#and now they (netflix) are depriving me of the very reason of my newfound appreciation of chest hair

[janjan-the-ninth]

re: joey's chest hair

it was probably shaved in preparation for another shirtless scene. they've never shown it in all its glory, there is always less chest hair in full-chested scenes than he has in reality!

Oh yes, I've seen someone mention this before. And I am totally not opposed to another shirtless scene (it's what we deserve). But I'd prefer to have a shirtless scene with his chest hair in all its glory.

[myriadimagines]

Professional

DC (Titans) One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Dick Grayson

Other Characters: —

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption

Requester: —

Summary: Detective Dick Grayson is infamous for working alone. He’s turned down partner after partner, until you show up, refusing to let Dick push you to the sidelines. Your stubbornness makes an impression on him, and the two of you slowly manage to get close, and perhaps in more ways than one.

Word Count: 2,811

A/N: I’ve been dying to watch Titans but it wasn’t available on US Netflix and now I finally watched it and I am proud to announce that Dick Grayson has been added to my ever growing list of characters I am very much in love with, and I actually wrote a one shot I like.

please reblog/leave comments, they’re very much appreciated!

Your name: submit What is this?

He remembers meeting you for the first time. A young, smiling face, enthusiastic handshake and a fresh suit. Determined to make a difference, to save lives, as most rookies are when they first join. Admittedly, Dick wasn’t paying much attention to your introduction speech. It was all the same, anyway, and he had already glanced through your file the Captain had left on his desk during his lunch break a week ago. You told him the same basic facts he heard from each new partner the precinct tried to assign him, in hopes that one day he’d play nice instead of pushing everyone aside. A new name he’d never call upon, a transfer from Cleveland who was eager to work together, to make an impression.

He told you the same thing he told everyone else, told you that the both of you were better off doing your own thing. You were already prepared, already caught up on the office gossip between morning cups of watery coffee and flipping through piles of paperwork stacked up on desks. You didn’t need to talk to many people to quickly learn that Detective Grayson from Gotham, no less, insists on working alone and refuses to let the Captain assign him a partner. The city name rolled off the detectives’ tongues like an explanation, a reason for Dick’s coldness that everyone immediately understood. 

When Dick had finished his own little speech that he had by now memorized after turning away so many new partners, you laughed. It caught Dick off guard. You laughed. Smiled at him and shook your head as if he had just made an inside joke and instead of essentially telling you to go away. You looked up at him, levelling his gaze, tilting your head as you examined his bewildered expression.

Someone called your name. Dick didn’t remember who. Another detective, maybe the Captain, and you looked over your shoulder before turning back to him. 

“Nice try, Detective Grayson.” you winked at him, already starting to move away. You clapped your hands together, faking an expression of deep thought as you contemplated out loud, “Or can I call you Dick? Figured we could skip the formalities now that we’re partners.”

Dick tried to stammer out a response, tried to correct you, but you had already disappeared into another room, flashing him one last grin before the door shut. 

You had managed to leave Dick speechless, an act that you would later tease him about multiple times. Finally recovering from his shock, Dick shook his head, sitting down at his desk. Nice try. Your voice echoed in his head, your teasing intonation amusing him. Nice try.

He didn’t even notice the small smile that had crept onto his face.

—

You rub your fingers against your temple, letting out a frustrated groan before leaning back, your chair squeaking under the slight strain from your body. You crack your knuckles, fingers joints popping before you stand, leaning over stacks of paperwork to grab your mug and Dick’s from his desk opposite yours. He looks up from his computer, face illuminated by the bright screen and eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you raise his mug, asking, “Another? Looks like it’s going to be a long night.”

He nods at you, returning his focus to his computer as taps away at his keyboard, the loud clicking of the letter keys filling the silence of the empty office. You weave in between empty desks, making your way to the coffee machine in the corner of the room. You struggle to keep your eyes open as you line up the mug under the machine, almost automatically adjusting the settings to Dick’s coffee preference which you are now all too familiar with, a result of too many late nights in the office working together.

Perhaps Dick was trying to save you from a constant state of sleep deprivation when he insisted he didn’t need you as a partner on your first day.

Didn’t matter now, anyway, you got what you wanted. It took weeks of working away at him, chipping away at his tough exterior piece by piece, showing him he needs you more than he cares to admit. Dick describes it as you creeping up on him, sneaking your way into his life, and it was only until your absence did Dick realize how he has come to rely on you. When you called in sick last month, Dick had lost count of the times he had called out your name, expecting you to be by his side. When you had to go home for a family event a few weeks ago, Dick found himself scrambling for paperwork he had begun to rely on you for. Even today, when you came in late, Dick caught himself trying to hand a file to you, too busy reading another file to notice your empty chair, his hand hovering over your desk for almost a minute before he realized you weren’t there. 

It feels strange, for Dick, learning to trust again, learning to need someone. Dick didn’t like it at first, expecting it to all turn to shit, but he slowly learned to like it. Learned to like you. 

Dick is still trying to figure out what that means. 

Your finger hovers over the start button for the coffee machine when Dick stops you, rolling his chair back to catch a better glimpse of you as he calls out your name. You turn around, hand resting on the counter as he stands, grabbing his coat hanging over the back of his chair. “Let’s call it a night. We’ll finish up this case tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Are you actually suggesting we take a break, Grayson? That’s unheard of.”

Dick ducks his head, hoping you don’t see his amused smile as he slips his coat on. “Don’t push it, y/n, you better go before I change my mind.”

You raise your hands in mock surrender as you leave the mugs in the sink, making your way back to your desk to grab your own jacket. Dick rocks back and forth on his heels, hands in his pockets as he patiently waits for you to stuff some leftover paperwork in your bag. Tilting your head towards the door, the two of you head out, and Dick feels a newfound awkwardness washing over him.

Especially when your arms brush once or twice as you walk side by side. 

He pushes the door open, holding it open for you as you trail behind him, and he glances around the poorly lit parking lot to see only his car spotlighted under the street lights. Frowning, he turns to you as he asks, “Where’s your car?”

“I took an Uber.” you respond, already on your phone to call your ride. Looking up at him, you explained, “My car wouldn’t start this morning.”

Dick doesn’t miss a beat. “I can give you a ride home.” 

“Oh.” your fingers hover over your phone, and Dick can tell from your widened eyes and parted lips that he’s caught you by surprise. He’s caught by surprise too, by how instinctively his offer left his lips. Quickly composing yourself, you wave your hand, shaking your head as you reply, “Ah, it’s okay. I was actually planning on stopping by the downtown bar for a drink.”

“What, and no invite?” Dick teases, and your lips quirk into a smile. He tries not to react when he sees you swiftly checking him out, gaze flickering down before back up to meet his eyes, and you tilt your head.

“Sorry, I just assumed you didn’t do anything other than work.” you exaggerate your apologetic tone, and Dick scoff at your playful condescendingness before pulling his car keys from his pocket, unlocking the car. The headlights blink on, and he gestures for you to follow as he walks over to his car. Before you open the passenger door, you remark, “I never would’ve guessed you had a fun side, Dick.”

Dick flashes you a faint smile you can’t quite decipher, a vague expression that you know is hiding something before he ducks into the driver seat. “There’s a lot of sides of me you don’t know, y/n.”

—

“The dude is crazy.” you declare loudly, your tipsy self evidently struggling to control your volume as your eyes remain glued to the tiny television screen above the bar, watching the news channel report on Robin’s latest attack. The grainy black and white footage that Dick had already seen earlier in the day plays again, and he suppresses any reaction to your comment on his vigilante alter ego. You’re at least three drinks in, maybe four, but you weren’t really keeping track. All you know is that you’ve had enough to make you tipsy, which doesn’t take a lot — you’re a lightweight, Dick is beginning to realize as he listens to you slur your words and gesture more grandly than usually. You think it’s embarrassing, yet there’s not much you can do to stop yourself, but Dick finds it endearing, the goofy smile on your face and your excessive chatter entertaining to witness. 

“He’s helping people.” Dick tries to defend himself, but not too much to raise suspicions. 

“Yeah, by hurting people.” you reply, turning to look at Dick. “It’s kind of insulting, how he obviously doesn’t trust the law, trust people like us, to deal with these guys.”

Dick smiles to himself, taking a sip from his drink to hide his expression. If only you knew.

“Okay, so,” you clear your throat, dramatically slamming your glass down on the bar counter before pointing an accusatory finger at Dick. You’re talking too much, you think, talking so much that you haven’t noticed that you and Dick have been sitting so close to each other for the past two hours that your knees have been brushing. Dick has noticed, however, and has been trying his best not to think too much about how close his hand is to your thigh when he rests his glass on his leg, leaning towards you as he listens to you talk. Dick has always preferred to be a listener in these types of situations, preferring to let others talk so he doesn’t have to talk about himself. He’s learning a whole host of new things about you, and this is the first time he’s hearing you actually talk about your life, hearing your opinions and getting to know you instead of picking up on tidbits of information here and there scattered throughout the work day — casual small talk over lunch breaks, minor details about weekend plans, an odd childhood fact once in a while when something in a case reminds you of a memory. Jabbing your finger into his chest, you continue, “This conversation has been too one-sided. I want to hear more about you.”

Dick scoffs loudly as you give him a pointed look, and he shakes his head as he finishes his own drink. Tracing his finger over the rim of the glass, he replies, “There’s not much to know about me.”

“Please,” you sniff, unconvinced as you flag down the bartender for another drink. “Everyone has a story, and I know you do. Haly’s Circus?”

Dick’s head snaps up, and you raise an eyebrow at him, an almost challenging look in your eyes. You’re playing with fire, prodding at the flames and daring it to lash out to burn you, but you’ve never been afraid of the heat. Dick knows that. It was one of the first things he learned about you on your first case together. But he’s not willing to play along. Not tonight, at least, as fixes his gaze on the divots and cracks in the countertop. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He feels your intense gaze on him, can see your narrowed eyes and your lips opening. After a pause, you close your mouth, and Dick is grateful for the fact that you’re sober enough to read the situation, to know that today isn’t the day to run into the fire. 

“Okay.” you push yourself off the barstool, away from him, as you snatch your jacket from the stool next to you. “Suit yourself.” 

Dick sighs as you gulp down your drink, fishing some folded bills out of your pocket before dropping it onto the bar. “y/n, hey, I-”

“No, Dick, it’s fine.” your words are curt, each syllable cutting and harsh as you hold up a hand to stop him. “You don’t let people in, that’s your thing. Joke’s on me for forgetting that.”

You storm out of the bar, head buzzing as you barely hear Dick calling out your name through the haze flooding into your brain. You know it’s the alcohol, but you know that’s not the only thing gushing through your bloodstream — there’s a newfound anger burning into your chest, a frustration that isn’t only directed at Dick, but at yourself. Perhaps it comes from embarrassment, embarrassment from actually believing there might something between the two of you, that perhaps there might be something more to your relationship that tentative colleagues.  

But, like you had told Dick, the joke was on you for indulging yourself in a little fantasy that was definitely more fiction than fact. It almost makes you laugh, the thought that the two of you were actually starting to become closer. 

Dick grabs your arm, his hand firm around your sleeve, and you turn around, spinning on your heel a little too forcefully as you lose balance, teetering over as you outstretch a hand to the nearby wall to balance yourself. Dick lunges to catch you, but loses balance himself as you suddenly grab his arm, and your back slams against the wall as Dick quickly sticks out his arm, propping a hand by your head, stopping his own body from crashing into yours. 

And suddenly, despite being cluelessly intoxicated for the past two hours, you suddenly become hyperaware of everything. 

You and Dick are slightly breathless as you look at each other, his body hovering over yours as he leans ever so slightly into you. Despite the cold air percolating through your coat that you were too frazzled to button up while you were storming out of the bar, Dick is so close to you that his body heat almost combats the winter breeze. Even with the dim, neon lights from the bar sign overhead, you can see the sporadic freckles dotted across his cheeks, the faint shadow of stubble above his upper lip, and his dimples that manage to show even with his imperceptible smile.

You suddenly grab his coat collar, pulling him to your height as you kiss him. Dick’s hand barely has time to leave the wall and caress your cheek when you suddenly pull away, the realization of your actions practically knocking the wind straight out of your lungs, and you splutter, “Oh, fuck, that… that was not professional, oh shit-”

Dick struggles to hold in his laughter as you become increasingly flustered, avoiding eye contact as Dick’s mouth opens despite having no words come out. His first thought is about is how you’re probably the only person on the planet that has managed to render him speechless, twice.

And his second thought, holy shit, did he imagine the kiss, or was it somehow real?

You try to save face as you nervously pipe up, “Well, don’t look so surprised.”

“I am surprised.” Dick replies, and you’re thankful you pulled away from the kiss before Dick could caress your face, otherwise you might’ve burned his hand with how hot your cheeks are heating up. 

“Come on, I think I’ve been pretty obvious.” you laugh, somewhat exasperated. Dick wasn’t the only one trying to figure out his feelings, and with each day you spent with him, it became harder and harder to deny your growing fondness towards Dick. Running a hand through your hair, you jab, “I thought you were supposed to be the best detective ever.”

The irritatingly attractive smirk that creeps onto his face makes you roll your eyes, and your anxiousness dissipates as all you can think about now is how annoying his smug expression is as he cocks an eyebrow. “You think I’m the best detective?”

“Shut up.” you snap, the collar of his coat still balled up in your fist as you give him a little shove before pulling him closer again, and Dick doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between your bodies, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him. He kisses you, taking in every detail — the curves of your body in his hands, the taste of leftover alcohol lingering on your mouth, and most importantly, your growing smile that he can feel against his own. 

tags: @gofandomsandotherstuff / @hauntedpocdreamer ↳ want to be added to the tag list?