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cipheress-to-k-pop · 9 months ago

Text

academic rivals d.g.

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Some injuries.

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: Full discretion this idea was given to me by an anon and even though I said I wasn't taking requests I just couldn't resist.

Also @writing2sirvive I hope you find this offer acceptable after not writing for our baby for so long 😭😭

There was always a slight pinch of anxiety when your teacher went around the class, handing back your test papers after grading them and you waited with slightly bated breath, a fist clutching the fabric of your uniform.

Even though you knew you had done well on the exam, you were particularly unnerved by her declaration before distributing the stack of papers that only one person had managed to get a perfect score.

You kept your eyes trained on your desk, waiting for someone behind you to exclaim that they had gotten a 100% but it never came. Not until your teacher had placed your paper in front of you with a soft 'Good job'.

You beamed, barely able to contain your excitement as you waited for the bell to ring.

Of course, you were over the moon that you got a 100. And that you were the only person in the entire class that managed to get one.

But secretly, you were more elated by the fact that someone else didn't.

"Aw, what's wrong Grayson? Your daddy finally run out of money to bribe your teachers with?" You snarked as soon as you caught a glance of the 93 written in red at the top of his paper.

"Sub-par insult, (L/N)." He said flatly.

"I disagree, nothing about me is sub-par, as you can clearly see." A sly grin on your face as you waved your paper with '100' in his face. He rolled his eyes so far back you couldn't resist making a comment, "Roll your eyes as hard as you want, Grayson, you won't be able to find a brain back there."

His friend, Barbara, who was sitting beside him chuckled at this and he turned to her with an irritated glare, "Can I help you?"

She gave him a teasing smile, unnerved by his annoyance toward her, "Oh, nothing, I'm just eagerly waiting for the day you both stop pretending you hate each other and start dating."

It seemed like her comment had just the effect she had wanted when Dick choked on his spit in his haste to argue that even if you were the last person on Earth, he wouldn't go near you with a 10-foot-pole.

"I'm not too happy to agree with you, Grayson but I, very fortunately, have a boyfriend."

His face twisted, "Gross, who'd wanna date you?"

You gave him a fake smile, "Hopefully, not you."

***

"Recognized: Domino, B-08."

You squealed in joy the second the light faded from your eyes, gaze landing on your boyfriend who stood right outside the zeta tube with a giant smile on his face.

You threw your arms around Robin's neck with a giggle, peppering his lips with smiley kisses that he so enthusiastically returned, his arms snug around your waist.

"Do you guys have to do this every time?" Came Conner's unimpressed voice as he shuffled uncomfortably around the two of you making out, "Can you at least stop doing it in the middle of the entrance? People are trying to get places."

You pulled away with a soft blush, smiling at the sight of your sparkly lip gloss on Robin's mouth and his slightly dazed expression. There was nothing like your kisses that was able to knock the vigilante's world off its axis and it had been this way ever since you started dating 10 months ago.

The pair of you were still very much in the honeymoon phase, much to the chagrin of your teammates, who have walked in on you many times while your lips were practically glued to each other.

"How was your day?" Robin finally asked when you had each gotten your fair share of kisses, leading you to the kitchen for a snack before the mission briefing and you beamed, "Amazing! I got a perfect score on that test from last week!"

He raised a brow, "The one that you skipped a date to study for?"

Smiling, you nodded, "The very one."

He sighed, taking a box out of the fridge, "See? I told you that you'd do great! You probably didn't even need to skip our date."

You rolled your eyes, giggling at his pout that you were all too quick to kiss away, "Hey now, I made it up to you, didn't I?"

Nodding, he pushed the box further toward you with a smile, "You did. Which is why I got you this, but I guess it could be for a job well done too."

You gasped when you saw the squiggles of the familiar logo of your favourite bakery on the top of the box and eagerly opened it up, completely missing the fact that it had been sealed with tape and nearly ripping the carboard to shreds in order to get to the treats inside.

The smell of the strawberry shortcake and red velvet cupcake had you salivating, and you wasted to time before digging in.

"Ugh, I love you." You moaned, nearly dissolving into the symphony of flavours and Robin chuckled swiping some of the cream cheese frosting off your cheek before licking it off his thumb, "Are you talking to me or the cupcake?"

You paused, glancing up at him from the cupcake wrapper, "I can love more than one thing."

His affectionate gaze had you melting, forgetting the delicious treat for a second, "Thank you for the gift, I really love it."

Robin happily accepted the sugary kiss you had given him, "Well, I figured, since it had been a while since we had a date in Gotham, you'd be craving it."

You only took another bite of the cupcake to hide your guilty wince. While the list of details you didn't know about your boyfriend was limitless, starting with his name and ending with literally anything else, you felt guilty that he somehow knew even less about you.

At least you knew what city he lived in while he was under the impression that you lived in Star City with Dinah, your mentor. You really thought he wouldn't buy it, especially after he didn't believe Artemis the first time.

But nearly a year after joining the team it would seem that he was still blissfully unaware, and you were planning to reveal your identity to him soon enough. You were firm that you wouldn't be celebrating your one-year anniversary without knowing each other's names at least.

At least once he found out you were living in the same city, you'd be able to have more frequent dates.

"Team to mission room." You heard over the PA, and you grabbed the box with you to the meet Batman and Canary along with the team, unwilling to leave your precious strawberry shortcake at the hands of Wally. This way you'd be able to dislocate his shoulder the second he put his hands on your things.

When you entered the room to find a face that you recognized on the holoscreen, you paused and glanced at Artemis who shrugged in response.

"Leo 'The Lion' Stark, the leader of the cult that was kidnapping young girls was officially incarcerated this morning."

Cheers erupted around the room, and you passed the box in your hands to your boyfriend to high-five Artemis and bring her into a hug. Black Canary patted the both of you on the shoulder, "Job well done on this mission, you two."

The mission that led to his arrest had been an undercover op with both you and Artemis posing as the girls from the private school that was being targeted. Eventually, you were able to find the leader and put a stop to his entire organization.

You had never seen Robin more fearful for your life than during this mission and it was after it that you had said your first I love you's.

"Today's mission is a covert op. For stealth, I will only be sending two members of the team: Robin and Domino."

Robin sent you a smile and you squeezed your interlocked fingers underneath the table.

"If they can stop kissing long enough to actually get the mission done." Conner grumbled underneath his breath and was rewarded with a swift kick to the knee.

***

It happened too quickly.

Everything was going fine. The mission was well underway, and you had observed them long enough to know where they were keeping their illegal servers. All that was left was to input your program that would upload all their data wirelessly so it could be accessed by the league.

Then it all went wrong, all at once.

You don't even remember much of what happened. All you knew is that when you had least expected it, someone had snuck up on you and you had felt your stomach squeeze with a painful terror that you hadn't experienced in a long time upon being caught off-guard.

"The Lion sends his greetings."

What followed was a series of excruciating shocks up your body that had your heartbeat ceasing in your chest and the movement of every single muscle came to a standstill such that you couldn't even make a sound come out of your throat.

You didn't even have the time to think about anything before you lost consciousness, the last thought flashing through your head being your worry for Robin.

And then every single pulse in your head came to an abrupt end.

“Come on hero, come on!” Robin panted as he continued to pump his hands against your chest, counting down the beats in his head to the compressions, “Baby please, please wake up!”

He was in tears, even though he tried to control them, but he had been looking at your unconscious face for the last 30 minutes as he continuously tried to revive you. His stomach was in knots and his chest felt like it was on fire, but he still didn’t quit, he wouldn’t until he passed out himself.

Before he could even stop himself, he was sobbing and the wails he let out erased the count he was keeping in his head, “Someone please help! Please help.”

His communicator lay discarded only a couple of feet beside him, but he couldn’t take his hands off you for a second, he couldn’t mess up the beat, he couldn’t stop the chest compressions because you’d die; and he’d die right alongside you.

“Robin, come in. Robin, can you hear me?”

His chest collapsed in a fit of sobs as soon as he heard the sound of his mentor come through from the communicator. The device beeped with the sound that alerted him of an override indicating that his mentor could now listen in.

“Batman help! She’s not breathing! I don't think she has a pulse! I’m trying to do CPR but she’s not awaking up! Please help!”

“Hang in there, Robin. Someone will be there in five.”

***

"She's alive but her brain was deprived of oxygen for a while so we can't accurately put a time frame on when she could wake up." Batman explained, his voice as stiff as concrete like always but the hand he placed on his ward's shoulder was warm and comforting.

There were so many questions rushing through Robin's head, but he kept silent because a part of him already knew the answer. This wasn't the first time he had seen something like this, while being Robin he had seen countless families, parents, spouses, receive the same news.

The distraught questions would usually follow: would take months? years? is there a chance that she could never wake up? is there anything he could do?

He wanted to ask Batman anyway, he wanted Batman to lie and say that everything would be okay, that the girl he loved would wake up soon and he just had to wait but he knew better than anyone that was all it would be. Lies.

There were those that were fortunate enough for their loved one to eventually wake up. Others would be forced to watch life go by while their loved ones were imprisoned to a bed with the empty hope that one day they'd wake up.

So, he swallowed down all his questions, Adam's apple bobbing painfully in his throat, "Can I see her?"

His father nodded, leading him to the med-bay with one hand on his back. Robin felt his stomach sink with every step he took, staring sullenly at his sock-clad feet. In his rush to change after the mission so he could get to you as soon as possible, he had thrown on anything he could find.

Which resulted in him being dressed in your sweatpants and his hoodie that you had stolen so often it smelt like you; a combination that both comforted him and broke his heart all at once.

When he saw you from the door, a rush of epiphanies struck through him like lightning to a metal rod. Although, first and foremost, he was just relieved to see you. Even though it hurt him to see you unconscious, and he knew that there was a chance he'd never get to see you awake again, a part of him forgot all about that as soon as he saw you.

He took quick steps toward you, wanting nothing more than to feel your skin against his when he stopped in his tracks once again with wide eyes, realizing you were without your mask.

"Robin?"

"I-I know her. (Y/N) (L/N), s-she's in my class." He stammered, staring at your relaxed features with his mouth hanging open. As odd as it sounded, this was the first time he had ever seen you, as (Y/N), so relaxed.

Whether it was a scowl or even just a grimace, you always seemed to be frowning at him and he never bothered to pay any attention to you outside of classes, when you were talking with your friends. He was sure you'd have a mesmerizing grin, one that would reach your beautiful eyes.

Batman stayed silent behind him, and Dick wondered just how many times Bruce had heard him talking shit about the love of his life, having to keep silent to respect your privacy. His cheeks coloured, remembering the conversation from this morning, where he had claimed that he would never touch you even with a 10-foot pole.

If only he had known that he had been pressed against the same girl so many nights prior.

"Does it matter?" Batman asked, snapping him out of his mortified state where he remembered every single insult he had ever directed at you, either to your face or behind your back.

To anyone else, it would have sounded like a shallow question, but Dick knew his father was concerned about whether his feelings would have changed, whether your identity did matter to him more than your relationship or his love for you.

He swallowed, walking up to your bedside, and gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face and for the first time in his life, he took in all your features. It was startling how quickly his worst enemy became the most beautiful person in the world.

"No, it doesn't."

***

You could see the bright light even though your eyes were shut. There was nothing more you wanted than to slip back into your deep slumber but for some reason your consciousness began trickling back into your head in a gentle stream.

You squirmed, brows pinching together in a frown as you murmured something unintelligible, features twitching until finally your eyes began to flutter open.

"(Y/N)?" You heard and your hand was squeezed by someone you couldn't quite place. Your vision was still quite blurry, and you were extremely disoriented. Still, you tried to blink through the hazy shapes in your sight and you managed to recognize a familiar head of black hair.

"Baby?" You breathed out, sighing in relief when he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, "Thank goodness you're okay."

Right before you had lost consciousness, a thought had flashed into your head. Robin would never abandon you there, no matter what had happened to you, if you had died or just lost consciousness.

You worried that in his effort to stick by you, he'd be hurt or worse.

"Me? (Y/N), you were unconscious for two days! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?!"

If you had been any more conscious, you probably would've been concerned over the way his voice broke in grief and his heartbroken words but in your exhaustion, all you could do was give him a silly smile, wishing your eyes could focus long enough for you to see his beautiful face.

"I'm okay now, I'm okay."

"I didn't think you would be." He confessed, pressing another kiss to your fingertips, holding your hand gingerly but still in a firm grip in between both of his. Like he was scared you'd evaporate and disappear before his eyes.

"I'm okay, baby. Just a little sleepy." You told him, feeling your consciousness slip further and further away as your blinks began to get longer and longer and your strength began to disappear, "You'll be here when I wake up, right?"

He nodded, voice thick with unshed tears even though you couldn't see him, "Yeah. I'll be right here."

***

This time when you woke, you felt much more refreshed than you had before. Your head didn't feel like it was nailed to the pillow anymore, but it felt like you had lead in your veins which was expected considering you had been unconscious for days.

Despite his promise, Robin was nowhere to be found when you finally sat up, stretching your arms as much as you could, careful of the IV in your hand. Your eyes darted around the familiar med-bay, trying to catch a glance of the clock by craning your neck but was ultimately unsuccessful.

Was it a weekday? Was it school hours? Was that why Robin wasn't at your side like you had asked him? What about you? What excuse had Batman given the school to explain your sudden absence? Were your parents aware that you had been injured?

The endless barrage of questions was silenced to a mum when you heard the door slide open and you sighed in relief, noticing the head of black hair first, "I believe you promised to be here when I wo—!"

Dick Grayson was beaming at you and in certain angles of the light, his blue eyes almost looked glossy with tears, but you shook your head unconsciously. Why would he be crying at the sight of you?

'Because you're so ugly the sight is making my eyes water.' Would have been his classic response and you practically rolled your eyes at the thought.

"(Y/N), you're awake!" He took a step closer, and you flinched.

"Stop right there!" He quite literally froze in his steps, he might as well have been encased in ice at the receiving end of your cold glare, "What the hell are you doing here, Grayson?"

He paused and somehow you were annoyed by the dumbfounded look on his face while multiple scenarios ran through your head. A concussion, brain injury or something along that likeness. Perhaps the part of your brain responsible for recognizing faces was damaged and this wasn't actually Dick Grayson. Amnesia, possibly? Maybe you were actually good friends with him but managed to forget it all? Of course, there was always the possibility this was a dream.

Your brow twitched at his lack of response, "I asked you a question."

At your terse tone, it seemed like he was finally able to snap himself out of his stupor, "(Y/N), baby, it's me."

You scowled, "Don't call me that and speak clearly; the hell do you mean by 'me'?"

"Baby," He said again, so firmly that you were silenced in your effort to snap at him again, "It's me."

Dick watched as your face melted from an expression of disgruntled bewilderment to the smallest sliver of recognition. Your eyes raked over his body, only now noticing that he was in short sleeves, and you were able to see the familiar scar on his forearm that belonged to your boyfriend. The little patch of freckles near his elbow that you had traced with your finger so many times before.

Your voice was small when you called him again, "Rob?"

He nodded and your eyes went wide, not quite able to believe it. Your boyfriend stood stiffly, berating himself for not handling this better. He had very quickly gotten over the fact that his girlfriend was his greatest rival in high school while he watched your unconscious face for the past couple of days, waiting for you to wake up.

It had completely slipped his mind that you were still unaware of his identity, and he swallowed nervously. Sure, it was something he could easily put past him but were you the same?

Robin knew you inside and out, he knew how much you loved him, but he didn't know how just much you hated Dick Grayson. Was that hate enough to overpower your love for him?

You stared at him in surprise for only a minute, but it felt like hours to him before you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, "Wow."

"This-This doesn't change anything right?" He began, feeling the lump in his throat grow three sizes larger when you turned to him with an expression that was not a reassuring smile like he had wanted.

"Are you kidding? This changes everything! Barbara is never going to let us hear the end of this. And my friends? Oh, they've hated you ever since that incident during our group presentations." You exclaimed, fingers twitching, and Dick knew it was because you wanted to flail your arms around but couldn't because of the IV.

He bit his lip. You weren't outright rejecting him or anything, but he needed to hear you say it and he needed to hear it as soon as possible.

"No—(Y/N), does this change anything between us?"

You paused, stopping in the middle of your tangent to give him a confused glance, "Between us? No. Why would it?"

And just like that, the tension in his muscles evaporated away and he relaxed, approaching to your side like he wanted to and interlacing your fingers, "I love you."

You finally smiled at him, leaning to kiss his lips, "I love you more, even though you said I was gross and that no one would ever want to date me."

"Well, to be fair you said you'd hope I never did, so I guess we're even."

***

"Hey, stranger." It really didn't make sense that after almost a year of dating, your boyfriend's voice still managed to send shivers down your spine. You closed your locker shut before turning to meet the beautiful blue eyes that you grew to love.

It was scary how quickly you completely rewired your brain into loving every single feature belonging to Dick Grayson.

"Hi, Grayson."

His eyes dipped to your lips for a second, mentally scolding himself for turning to putty the second you said his last name. It was weird how the last time you both were in school together, he thought that the sound of his name coming from your mouth was like nails on a chalkboard.

Now, he felt like he had been blessed just by being in your presence.

"I have all the assignments and notes that you missed the past week." You had been ordered bed rest and some physiotherapy to regain complete mobility after being unconscious for a couple of days. Under your boyfriend's watchful care, he had dutifully nursed you back to health.

You smiled when he handed you the stack of papers even though the heft of it made you want to cry. All this work from just a week? All the AP classes you had been taking in order to compete with your own boyfriend had come back to bite you in the ass.

"Thank you. Can I come over later so you can help me out with it?"

It was really a formality that you were asking because you both knew he was obviously going to say yes. But you figured you'd do the polite thing and ask the first time. After today though his room would practically be yours, just as your room would now be his personal hideout.

"Of course, baby. I've been dying to introduce you to Alfred. We can go back to mine together after school."

You nodded, starting when you heard the bell, "I have Physics." You bemoaned, it being the only class Dick didn't take with you. He had opted for a language instead, which you were beginning to think was more useful than whatever you learnt anyway.

He gave you a smile, eyes twinkling when he slanted his lips over yours in a soft kiss and you had to pull away quickly before you forgot just where you were.

His disappointed pout was all too quick to disappear when you reminded him that you'd be going home with him that day, "I'll see you later."

The two of you parted ways with delirious smiles, feeling too much like you were wafting on cloud nine, completely unbeknownst to the small crowd of people that watching your entire interaction with wide eyes.

Barbara, who was stood at the centre of the flock, smirked, and held out her hand, "Pay up bitches."

***

Bonus:

"I'm surprised you didn't figure out her identity earlier, Dick. Aren't you supposed to be a great detective?" Wally teased and your boyfriend rolled his eyes.

"It's not that I couldn't find out, I just didn't try."

"How come?"

He spared you a glance and shrugged, "She asked me not to."

"I don't remember you offering me the same consideration." Artemis sniped but he knew it was all in good nature.

"You aren't nearly as pretty." He replied coolly, making you blush.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

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dxckgrxsonx · 2 years ago

Text

Just be Quiet

Pairing - Dick Grayson x (F) Reader

Words - 0.6k

Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Graphic Sexual Content - Mean!Dick - Forced Quiet Sex - Kinda Public Sex - A little bit of Name Calling (Disgusting, Pathetic, Crybaby) - Crying - Swearing

Notes - Um hi. Let's ignore the fact I was supposed to post this last week. I drank a little too much wine, passed tf out, and then work kicked my whole ass. I simply do not vibe with being employed smh.

MASTERLIST

“Be quiet.” Dick snaps, his voice bordering on the lethal edge of an order and not a request. Your skin positively bristles when he shoves his hand over your mouth to muffle the desperate, involuntary noises escaping from between your chattering teeth and he growls, thoroughly fed up with your shit. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

Your thighs tremble, trapped between Dick’s firm, unyielding body and the wall. He snaps his hips forwards, forcing the full length of him into your weeping cunt with one stroke and your eyes roll straight back into your skull, body shuddering through the stretch.

“Don’t you make a fuckin’ sound.” He demands when you inhale, words vibrating in your throat, chest aching with how much you want to moan and whimper. Forcing your thighs wider with his knee he drags his cock almost all the way out before sinking back into your soaked pussy. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? I tell you not to make a sound and here you are, whining through my fingers like a brat.”

You didn't even notice you were moaning and keening and whimpering loud enough for him to hear–but you are–and it makes Dick ground out your name in a low, dangerous snarl.

It's a warning.

“I can’t fuck–I can’t help it!” You try, nearly in tears from the effort it takes to stay quiet for him. Your words are muffled against his palm and a particularly harsh thrust has you gasping his name, a long, drawn out whine chasing. “S’too good.”

Dick kisses the back of your neck then moves so he can speak directly into your ear.

“Yes you can. You’re just doing this on purpose to piss me off. Why won’t you be fucking quiet?!” Fucking into you at a rougher pace you can’t stop the desperate little noises from slipping through his fingers. “It’s almost like you want people to know I’m fucking you. Is that what it is? You want everyone to know you’re a desperate whore who likes being fucked where anyone could see you? You’re disgusting.”

Your body tries to flinch away from his punishing pace but Dick tuts disapprovingly and presses you even more firmly against the wall with his strong hips; forcing you to take every rough stroke and scathing comment from his smart mouth. He nudges your thighs apart again when you try to close them and your pussy throbs and creams against the base of his cock in desperation.

Dick scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth against your neck and you can feel the smirk pressing at his lips.

“I can feel you squeezin’ at me.” He says, sinking balls deep into your cunt and stopping just to feel you convulse around him. “You like being fucked by your Team Leader, huh? With the way you act, it’s no surprise you like this. What? You think I don’t notice. You’re more pathetic than I thought.”

Moaning into his hand you blink against the onslaught of tears and Dick feels them slide warm over the backs of his knuckles.

Your pussy is aching.

“Oh fuck. Are you crying right now?” He grunts, cock swelling and twitching inside you. “I can’t believe how sensitive you are.”

“Please!” You beg, sniffling and trying to stop yourself from crying. “Dick–plea–stop being so mean to me.”

“No.” He replies, pressing his hand over your mouth even harder so every word is barely audible. “We’re not stopping until you’re dripping with my come. And you better be fucking silent, do you hear me? My poor little crybaby. I want you to be a good girl for once and shut the fuck up because if you think I'm being mean to you now, you're in for a shock if you can't follow simple orders.”

The post that inspired this is -

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader smut #dick grayson x you smut #dick grayson smut #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing x reader smut #nightwing smut #titans smut #titans fanfiction #mean!dick x reader #mean!dick x reader smut #ella writes

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chaotic-birds · 6 months ago

Note

Hi :) I just wanted to say that I love your work and it's nice to see another Jason todd fan. Anyway, I wanted to ask if I can request a Jason todd x reader smut where the reader and Jason are in the middle of doing it and may be nightwing/roy accidentally walks in and they join ?

i’m happy to know you like my stories! ty! i love jason so much 😭 and thanks for your request! i’ve never written a threesome and it’s been a HOT minute since i’ve written smut, so i hope it turned out alright! also, i wrote A LOT more than i anticipated 😭 i’m sorry if it’s too much sldkjhvfs i couldn’t stop myself PAIRING jason x reader (f) x dick | WC 6.1k | G smut, fluff | TW reader has she/her pronouns, threesome, pwp, sub!reader, soft to rough (to soft) sex, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, breast play, unprotected sex (be safe!), gagging, handjobs, dirty talk, praising, cream/throatpie, multiple orgasms, spitroasting, pet names (princess, baby), aftercare talk, lazy sex, cum as lube

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty!

masterlist

Jason came home from patrol a few hours ago. With the renovations at your shared home, you both decided to reside at the manor for a few days.

Jason lays behind you, arms around you securely. His breath tickles the back of your head. You would think he’d be asleep, but the occasional glide of his fingers against your skin tells you he isn’t.

You turn in his embrace to face him.

His eyes peel open, blue irises boring into yours. A little moonlight seeps through the curtains, but it’s hard to see many details.

“You’re awake,” he murmurs.

“Can’t sleep,” you reply. You usually can fall asleep quickly in his arms, but tonight’s an exception. Maybe it’s because you’re in a new environment. Sure, you’ve slept over at the manor before, but you’ve never stayed for so long in a row.

He hums in understanding and caresses your cheek.

“Neither can I,” he says.

You stare at each other for a few seconds before he leans forward. You meet him halfway, lips pushing against each other in a sweet kiss. Jason pulls back for one second, then kisses you again. This time, he moves his mouth. It’s slow and sensual as he takes his time. He moves his hand to your side.

One of your hands presses against his bare chest while the other moves to the back of his neck. You pull him closer, and he smiles into the kiss, swiping his tongue along your lip that’s between his. You open your mouth and greet his tongue with yours.

Jason squeezes your body at the new contact. His tongue glides against yours for a few, and then his lips capture your tongue. He sucks on the muscle as he pulls away. You giggle, unable to contain your happiness.

“Cute,” he comments and dives in again, pushing you back on the bed and letting the covers fall lower. The cool air touches your skin, causing you to shiver. Jason rubs one hand up and down your arm while the other props himself up.

Jason lays half on and half off your body. Your hands tangle in his hair, making a mess of it—how you like it.

His hand travels down to your waist, massaging it as he continues to kiss you. The noise of your kisses fills the quiet room and fires your body gradually.

“I want to see you,” you say breathlessly once you pull away.

Jason nods and leans to one of the bedside tables. He turns the lamp on, adjusting the setting to a low lighting, then moves back. The light doesn’t reach every corner of the room, but it’s enough to see him better and not hurt your eyes.

Your gaze dances over his face, taking in the few scars that reside on his skin. His sharp features are a contrast to the softness in his eyes. A mix of black and white hair hangs over his forehead as he hovers over you.

You raise a hand to cup his face, thumb gently rubbing along his lower lip. Jason parts his mouth ever so slightly at your touch.

“Good?” he whispers.

“Perfect,” you reply and lean up to kiss him.

Jason grins against your lips, a small chuckle getting lost in your mouth. As the kiss continues, Jason’s hands explore your body. His hand rubs up and down your side, thumb brushing against the underside of your breast over your tank top. He does this a few times and then slips his palm under your top and squeezes your breast.

You hum contently in his mouth, hands tightening in his hair. Jason rubs his leg against the outer side of your thigh, kissing you, and massaging your chest. As the seconds tick by, you get more needy.

Jason, sensing this, moves his kisses down while shifting on top of you fully. You grab the bottom of your top and slide it off. Jason’s hand remains on your chest, watching how your body moves. Then, his other hand rests on your other breast.

Jason pushes your breasts up, marveling at how pretty they look. He leans down and kisses along the swells. Your eyes follow his movements. One hand moves back to his hair while the other covers one of his hands on your chest.

You suck in a breath when Jason nips at your skin. He chuckles against your body, biting one of your breasts and lingering a little longer.

You giggle as you arch your back and push your chest into his face more. He hums, releasing your skin and massaging the area—ridding the teeth marks he had left. Once gone, he gives your nipples a teasing twist, and then he drags his hands down your body. He leans down and captures your lips once more; one of his hands slips between your legs to feel you over your panties. He moans into the kiss when he feels the dampened material.

Jason slips a finger beneath the fabric to run up and down your slit, feeling just how wet you are.

“Fuck,” he breaths against your mouth.

His finger circles your entrance then moves up to circle your clit. Your hips jerk slightly at the sensation.

The kiss becomes sloppy as both your focuses move south.

Jason rubs your clit a few more times before moving down. He gradually slides a finger in your hole with ease from how wet you are.

You moan quietly at the feeling, legs spreading a little wider. Jason pulls away from the kiss and tucks his face in the crook of your neck. His finger still pumps into you. He moves slowly, which makes you buck your hips for more. Jason obliges, sliding in another finger and quickening his pace.

“Jay,” you mewl and tug his hair to lift his face. As soon as he does, he places his mouth on yours. The kiss is hot and fast, matching the pace of his hand.

“Need your mouth, Jay,” you whisper.

He nods, slides his fingers from you, then crawls down. You remove your underwear and inch up the bed so he has more space to lie. Once you’re both situated, he hooks his hands around your thighs and pulls you closer. He kisses your inner thighs, hair tickling your skin. You watch with rapt attention as he moves inward. Then, his hot tongue licks up your folds slowly.

Your head falls back as a pleased moan slips from your mouth.

Jason does the action again and when he reaches the top, he flicks his tongue repeatedly against your clit.

Gasping, you reach down to his hair.

Jason moves a hand to grope one of your breasts as his tongue glides up your slit again. He gathers your arousal and his spit in his mouth then lets it fall onto your pussy. The sight has you clenching.

Jason dives in again, zigzagging his tongue against your clit briefly before circling the muscle at your hole.

You moan when he pushes his tongue in. Jason moans with you against your skin, the hand on your breast squeezing.

His eyes close momentarily before he stares at you again. His tongue pushes in and out quickly for a few before lapping up your wetness. He alternates between licking and sucking. He feels and sounds like he’s a dehydrated man in the desert as he devours your sweet pussy.

Your legs try to squeeze around his head, but he uses his free hand to push down one of your thighs. Your whimpers get louder as you near your orgasm. Jason’s relentless as he continues to eat you out, occasionally pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

The knot in your tummy almost releases when a knock sounds at the door. However, before either of you can react, the door opens.

Jason snaps his gaze up, nose and chin glistening with your arousal. If it weren’t for being interrupted, you would’ve cummed at the sight.

You push your legs together and wrap an arm over your chest.

“Hey, you awak—”

Dick’s steps falter when he sees the two of you. Out of politeness, he looks away. Though that politeness dissipates quickly as a minute later, he’s looking again.

“What the fuck, Dick? Knock next time,” Jason hisses.

“I did knock,” Dick says weakly.

Your heart is beating quickly at having been caught. Not to mention, you’re naked in front of your boyfriend’s brother. The damp sheet caused by your dripping arousal and Jason’s spit beneath you is a constant reminder of what transpired seconds ago.

“Once!” Jason growls. “And what happened to waiting for a reply before walking in?”

Dick’s eyes glance at you, sweeping your form in under a second before averting to Jason. Unlike you, Jason still has his underwear on.

Jason, catching Dick’s gaze, grabs the sheet that had fallen and covers you haphazardly. You adjust it better.

“I didn’t think you’d actually be awake,” Dick says.

Jason narrows his eyes. “Well, I am, so go away and shut the damn door!”

Dick follows half of his order and shuts the door, staying inside.

“What?” Jason prompts.

Dick licks his lips. “I wanted to ask if you…”

“If I what?” Jason huffs, impatient.

It’s a little uncanny to see Dick so unsure. If anyone should be embarrassed, it should be you and Jason.

“I don’t remember,” Dick replies.

“Then leave.”

Dick remains standing in place, eyes on both of you. After an awkward standstill, he shuffles closer to the door, however, he still doesn’t leave.

Jason eyes him keenly.

Your gaze drifts from Dick to Jason. You can see the gears in his head turning, probably trying to uncover the reason for Dick’s hesitance. Then, Jason’s irritation morphs into a look of cocky delight.

Jason finally looks at you since Dick’s arrival.

You give him a confused expression.

He smirks and turns to Dick again.

“Or, if Yn agrees, you can stay and enjoy the show.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The show?

Dick has a mix of surprise and hope in his eyes.

“A-Are you serious?” you ask Jason.

Jason averts his gaze to you and nods, hand slipping under the sheet to rub your ankle soothingly.

“If you want, baby.”

The idea of having an audience brings forth excitement and shame. Excitement because it’s thrilling to have someone get turned on by you—it’s nice to feel wanted; shame because you shouldn’t like that thrill. It was wrong to expose yourself in that way to someone who wasn’t your partner. But Jason has agreed to it, which creates another question.

Jason is the jealous type. He doesn’t like when someone looks at you for too long, so why is he okay with Dick watching? Then you recall the look of mischief in his eyes earlier. He wants to show you off, and he has something Dick doesn’t. You wonder how long it’s been since Dick has slept with someone to want this so badly.

Plus, Jason trusts Dick and trusts you. This isn’t some stranger.

“Do you want to?” you still ask.

Jason gives you a reassuring smile. “I’m fine either way. This decision is yours.”

“But I want you to be comfortable too,” you pout.

“I’ll be comfortable,” he insists. “What do you say? Will you let Dickie stay?”

Your lips rub together, eyes flickering to Dick who still stands motionless. He watches you eagerly.

“Okay,” you say and look at Jason. “He can stay.”

Jason grins, glances back at Dick, and says, “What a lucky duck.”

Then he slides the sheet from your body and lays back down, pulling you close by the hips.

“But I’m luckier,” he mutters before circling his tongue on your clit again.

Your breath hitches, eyes moving from Jason to Dick.

Dick has moved closer, but still stays at a respectful distance, and watches Jason’s tongue play with your nub.

Jason glides his muscle along your folds again, moving a hand to rub your clit. You know he’s trying to get you aroused again, and it’s working. Your gaze falls back onto Jason.

He continues to use his tongue and hand, and eventually, you forget Dick’s in the room. Your focus is on Jason between your legs. But then Jason lifts his head and looks at Dick, then you.

“Can he put himself to use and touch you?” Jason asks you.

Your eyes widen slightly. You open to ask if he’s sure, but Jason speaks again.

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t okay with it. Would you be?”

You trust both of these men. They won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. With that in mind, you nod.

Jason nods for Dick to come closer.

“Rub her clit,” Jason instructs.

Dick looks at you for permission, and after a nod and a smile from you, he brings two fingers against your clit and starts rubbing. Your hips jerk at the action.

Jason watches for a few seconds before moving his face between your legs again.

Although Jason was circling your nub a minute ago, knowing it’s someone else doing that brings a new sensation flowing through you.

Dick eyes Jason before looking at you. He catches your gaze.

“Can I touch you more?” he asks.

Your eyes flicker to Jason, who is already looking at you.

You look at Dick and say yes.

Dick switches hands and uses his other to massage one of your breasts. You gasp when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger experimentally.

You can feel Jason smile against your pussy as he watches from below.

Dick repeats his action after seeing how you liked it. He tugs on the nipple, pulling it upward before letting it go and watching your breast jiggle. He bites the inside of his cheek, grabbing your breast again to squeeze it. You can feel his growing bulge against your side.

Jason slides two fingers in your entrance without warning and nudges Dick’s hand from your clit. He replaces it with his tongue, wiggling it against you. Moaning, your head falls on the pillow behind you. Your climax approaches quickly, having been interrupted earlier.

Dick lowers his face until his lips graze your nipple. You let out a shuddered breath, which has Dick wrapping his lips around it. His other hand moves to massage your other breast.

He sucks and tugs your nipple up with his mouth. When it slips from his lips, he immediately starts flicking his tongue against it. You whine and tangle a hand in his hair.

“Can I kiss you?” Dick whispers, eyes moving from your breasts to your lips.

“No,” Jason answers for you, fingers still pumping inside your hole. “No kissing.”

Dick nods, not offended by his rule. He gives you a comforting smile to show he’s not bothered. You’re grateful for his understanding. While you aren’t against the rule, you like knowing Jason has his limits. You’re still his completely.

Jason moves back down. It’s not long before your legs are shaking around his head and one hand is gripping his hair while the other is gripping Dick’s hand on your breast.

Both men moan lowly at you cumming, watching your body squirm.

When Jason pulls away, he’s covered in your juices.

“Can I taste you?” Dick wonders.

Jason looks at you to say it’s your choice. You nod.

Jason moves to your slide while Dick lays between your legs. Jason leans down and kisses you. He tastes and smells like you.

Dick’s tongue grazes your folds tentatively. When you don’t tell him to stop, he flattens his tongue and licks up the remnants of your juices and wetness.

You mewl into Jason’s mouth at Dick’s actions.

Jason pulls away to glance at his brother and then at you again.

“Such a good princess, letting him taste you like the starved man he is,” Jason compliments and moves a few strands of hair from your face. “Bet it’s been a while, hm?”

As if confirming, Dick hums and pushes his face deeper. You inhale sharply, hand flying down to grab his locks. You writhe from overstimulation.

“God, you taste amazing,” Dick nearly growls into your pussy.

Jason smirks and angles your face toward him. He pulls you in for another kiss, tongue moving against yours.

Dick swiftly glides his tongue all around your pussy, sucking and licking every inch of it. He prods the tip of his tongue at your hole, testing you. Again, when he gets no complaints, he shoves his tongue deeper and circles your clit with a free hand.

You pull away from Jason with a loud moan.

“Fuck,” you pant, feeling another orgasm in the pit of your stomach.

“You gonna’ cum again, baby?” Jason asks, already knowing the answer. You nod, unable to speak as Dick increases his speed.

Jason rubs your head soothingly while he watches Dick eats your pussy with fervor. He then lays next to you sideways and kisses your neck. Your head tilts to give him better access.

Dick pulls another orgasm from you minutes later, making your body shake.

“Shit,” Dick curses after you start coming down from your high. He crawls from you, chin shining under the low lighting. He swipes a tongue along his lower lip as if addicted to your taste.

Jason pushes himself off the bed and begins to strip off his underwear. Your mouth waters when you see his hard cock.

“I know you still have another one in you,” he grins and climbs back on the bed. “Rotate, princess.”

He uses his hand to motion so you understand.

You flip your body so your head is now where your feet were.

“Move up,” Jason adds. He slowly follows you as your head inches closer to the edge. You stop when you’re at the end of the mattress.

You lean up on your elbows to look at him.

Jason shifts his eyes to Dick and raises his brows.

“You wanna join or watch?” Jason inquires.

Dick doesn’t need to be asked twice and undresses himself. He moves to stand behind your head, and it’s then you realize what’s about to happen. Your heart rate picks up in anxiousness, your walls clenching in anticipation.

“Just bite his dick if you want him to stop,” Jason jests and rubs your calves.

“Hey!” Dick huffs.

You smile, glad for the joke. You’re feeling more comfortable, but you still sense Dick’s hesitance. You’re unsure if it’s because he’s second-guessing this or if he’s nervous he might hurt you.

“Kidding,” Jason says. “If it gets too much, tap the bed twice.”

You nod.

Jason grins, bends over, and kisses you sweetly. He pulls away after a few seconds and leans back on his haunches.

“Lay back down and relax,” Jason says.

You do as he says. Your gaze meets Dick’s hardened cock hovering above your face.

“Touch him,” you hear Jason instruct.

You carefully reach up and take hold of Dick’s cock. He sucks in a breath.

You start rubbing your hand, but you need… Dick suddenly spits down, coating your fingers with his saliva. You spread it along his cock, then rub him again. Your hand glides smoother.

Jason’s hands travel up your legs to massage your sides, looking at your hands move. After a moment, he glides the tip of his dick along your wet folds a few times before rubbing his tip back and forth rapidly against your clit. Your legs try to close, but Jason halts them. You moan and whimper at the sensation.

Meanwhile, Dick starts thrusting shallowly in your hands. Precum seeps from his tip. With your thumb, you swipe it and use it to aid in your stroking.

Dick’s hips stutter at your action, a curse falling out of his mouth.

“Give him what he wants, baby,” Jason says, pausing his movements.

You lean up and kiss the underside of Dick’s tip. You trail the kisses downward until you reach the base, and then your tongue darts out to lick his balls lightly.

Dick’s breath quivers above you. He reaches down to your sides and gently tugs you closer to him so your head hangs off the edge of the mattress. You feel Jason shift closer; his hands start to rub your inner thighs.

With your head at a better angle, Dick adjusts his cock and nudges his tip against your mouth. Your lips part at his silent request, taking his head in your mouth.

You suck and swirl your tongue around his tip. One of your hands moves to his thigh. You pull him closer and he follows, dick pushing deeper in your mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Dick gasps.

As if unable to stop himself, he starts moving his hips. Your other hand wraps around the part that’s not in your mouth, pumping slowly as you hollow your cheeks around his cock.

Jason squeezes your thighs and spits, smearing it over your entrance. Your mind is going crazy trying to split your focus.

Dick continues to move his hips carefully while Jason coats his tip with your arousal and his spit. Then, he gradually sinks inside. You moan around Dick’s cock, causing him to groan at the vibration.

Jason mutters a curse as your warm walls engulf his thick cock. He pulls out then pushes in again.

Both men move slowly as if not to hurt you. Your body shifts gently between them as they alternate thrusts. Dick pulls out a few times so you can breathe, but he never stays away for long. Jason progressively pumps his cock in your pussy until he bottoms out.

Your legs squeeze around Jason at the feeling.

“Doing so good, baby,” Jason coos. He stills for a moment before sliding almost all the way out, then sliding back in fully.

When Dick pushes farther and hits the back of your throat, you gag. Your hands grab his thighs, but you don’t push him away. Taking that as a green light, Dick continues his movements. The lewd squelching from Jason fucking your pussy combined with your small gags from Dick’s cock in your mouth has you needing more.

Your hips buck against Jason quickly, trying to get him to increase his speed. Jason takes the hint and gradually thrusts faster.

Jason’s quick pace pushes you against Dick harder, making you take Dick’s cock deeper. You sputter, but the feeling has a grip on Dick and instead of pulling away, he shifts forward until your lips are at his base.

You push against Dick’s thighs as a reflex, but your arms get pulled away. Jason pauses his movements.

“Breathe, princess. Show Dick how well you can take his cock,” Jason says gently.

You force yourself to calm down, relax, and breathe through your nose.

“That’s it,” Jason says and starts rolling his hips again.

“Such a good girl you got,” Dick murmurs. His hand comes down to graze your throat.

“Hm, isn’t she?” Jason hums with pride.

Dick slides out a bit then back in. There’s no doubt he’s watching the way his cock is moving in your throat.

He does this a few more times and then pulls out. He cradles your head as you cough and sit up slightly.

Jason smiles at you, slowing down, as Dick moves a piece of hair from your face.

“You okay?” Dick asks.

You glance up. He’s breathing a little heavier.

You nod and lie down again. You reach out for his thighs, pulling him toward you and taking his cock in your mouth again.

“Look at you,” Dick marvels, sliding his cock deep. “So eager for more.”

You hum around Dick and bob your head as best as you can, gagging every now and then.

Seeing you want more has Jason accelerating his speed once more. His skin slaps against yours, the sound filling the room.

You moan and let Jason’s thrusts push you against Dick.

Jason lifts your hips, making you arch your back and leaning your head back more.

“Shit, you look so pretty like this,” Jason grunts.

Your breasts bounce as both men push and pull from opposite ends. You feel so satisfied with both holes filled. It’s a new sensation you welcome with open arms.

Dick reaches down and squeezes your breasts a little roughly.

“Such a pretty little thing for us,” Dick says and pinches your nipples. He twists and lifts them slightly, letting the back-and-forth movement of your body aid in the sensation of your nipples being tugged in different directions.

You whine loudly at the feeling while your back arches more. There’s a mix of pain and pleasure from the action.

Dick chuckles above you; he releases your semi-sore nipples and soothes them with a rub.

“Feel good?” Dick asks with a faint smirk on his lips, pulling out of your mouth so you can respond.

“Y-Yes,” you reply, voice already a little hoarse.

Jason pulls out and suddenly flips you over. He moves back to give Dick space on the bed.

As Dick gets resituated, Jason pulls you against him. He turns your face and kisses you roughly. You gasp in his mouth, his action unexpected. You can tell he’s getting worked up with how fast he’s moving now.

“Want him to watch for a bit, yeah?” he says, but it’s not really a question.

Jason nudges your knees wider, positions his dick at your drenched hole, then thrusts up.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, hands coming up to grip his forearm that’s across your chest.

Jason fucks up into you hard. He’s no longer being careful since he doesn’t have to worry about you choking on Dick’s cock too much. In the back of your mind, you sense he’s doing this so Dick knows he’s not the only one who can make you feel good.

“S-Shit, Jay!” you cry, pushing your ass against him and taking what he’s giving you. His thick cock feels so good stretching your pussy.

“Look at him,” Jason says in your ear.

Although your eyes have been open, you weren’t registering what you were seeing. Your sight refocuses.

Dick’s on his haunches with a hand wrapped around his long cock. His eyes shift from your bouncing breasts to your face with your open mouth, to where Jason is pounding into you. It seems he doesn’t know where he wants to look.

“She feels so good around me,” Jason moans. “So fucking tight.”

Dick’s grip tightens around his cock, eyes shifting lower to watch Jason fuck you. It’s almost as if he’s imagining your walls squeezing around him, thinking just how tight you really are. You have a quick thought of what it might feel like to have both of them in between your legs.

“Jay,” your voice trembles, feeling your approaching orgasm.

Jason slows and pushes you down. Your face lands inches away from Dick’s cock. The aforementioned man wastes no time to move forward and guide his dick in your mouth again. His hands tangle in your hair, moving your head up and down at his will.

“Fuck, use your tongue just like that, Yn,” Dick pants when you wiggle the muscle against his shaft.

Jason picks up his pace, hands gripping your ass. Skin slapping, moans, and small gags fill your ears. The combination is filthy, but only arouses you more.

Dick stills your head but starts thrusting upwards instead. He moves with speed, and you have to force yourself to relax as he pushes down your throat repeatedly. His breathing gets heavier.

“Can I cum in your mouth?” Dick speaks fast through pants.

You hum a yes around his cock and keep your head down so he can use your throat.

Dick groans at your acceptance and increases his tempo. Your hand's fist into the sheets below, eyes filling with tears at Dick’s brutal pace.

Jason slows his movements as Dick fucks you roughly. His hands move to your hips and rub encouraging circles.

“Keep taking his cock, princess. You’re doing so well,” Jason says.

With Jason’s words, you push your face down lower until you’re taking Dick’s cock whole.

“Fuck yes, Yn. Feels so damn good. Just like that. Stay just like that,” Dick rambles as he nears his climax. He thrusts a few more times and then shoves his cock down your throat. You feel him twitch as he empties his load in your mouth, head thrown back.

Dick stays deep in your throat for a few long seconds before he carefully glides out. He sits back on the bed, chest still heaving from his high. You gasp for breath while looking up at him. His eyes drop to you, a smile forming on his lips. He reaches down to wipe the few tears off your cheeks.

“T-Thank you,” he murmurs.

You giggle and nod, then you feel Jason slam into you from behind. You jerk forward, eyes widening as you stare at Dick.

“My turn, baby. You gonna’ let me fill this pussy?” Jason asks and gives you another single thrust.

You look back and nod again, a needy whine emitting from your throat. “Need all of you.”

Jason smiles and starts gliding in and out.

You rest your cheek against the bed as he picks up his pace. Meanwhile, Dick’s hand runs through your hair smoothly.

Jason snaps his hips into yours. He’s quick to slide in but takes his time sliding out. The mix of speed and force has your mind clouding.

Your walls clench around Jason’s cock, loving the way he feels so big in your tight cunt. You can never get enough of this feeling. Each glide has your release building.

Jason’s hips rock into yours faster, and you have to force your legs to stay up so you don’t fall. However, Jason’s firm grip on your hips won’t let you fall anyways. You can tell he’s close by his rapid breaths and powerful thrusts.

“Fucking hell, baby, you,” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

You squeeze around him again, hands clutching the bed sheets harder at his rough pace. Your body jolts up and down the mattress because of him. Though thanks to Dick’s hand against your head, you don’t slide too far.

“Need to see you,” Jason huffs and pulls out. He swiftly flips you, pushes your legs near your chest, then shoves his cock back in your pussy.

You cry at the deep angle, head pushing back as Jason keeps the speed he was at.

Jason stares down as he breathes through his mouth. His hair sticks to his forehead, brows burrowed.

“So good,” you mumble in a daze, thoughts hazy. “’eep going… please.”

Jason nods. He pushes into you roughly a couple more times before he bottoms out, leaning over you more and forcing your hips to raise. A sound between a gasp and a yelp escapes your mouth. He’s so deep as he shoots his cum in your pussy, filling you.

Jason pants laboriously as he rides out his climax. He leans down and kisses you lazily. You smile into the kiss, hands coming up to the sides of his head. The kiss lasts a few more seconds, and then Jason slides out.

Before your hips fall, Jason shifts you so your back is against his chest. He hooks your legs over his, pulling them open and exposing your used cunt to Dick.

He moves one hand to one of your breasts and the other down to rub your clit. You gasp at the feeling and squeeze your legs against Jason’s.

Dick watches as Jason’s cum seeps from your spent hole. It begins to pool under you.

“Doesn’t she look so pretty filled with my cum?” Jason questions with a smirk.

Dick flickers his gaze to Jason, then down again. He seems to want to say something but bites it back. Instead, he reaches out to swirl his fingers in the mess between your legs. He parts your folds with his fingers, getting a better look at you pushing Jason’s cum out.

Dick scoops some of it on two fingers before plunging his digits into your entrance. You gasp, hips bucking. His lips twitch in a smile at your reaction, pumping his fingers faster. He soon adds a third.

Jason’s hands continue to massage your breast and circle your clit. With both men’s hands on you, your body begins to squirm.

Dick’s hand move fast, alternating between thrusting and jerking up and down.

Jason’s hand gets a little rougher as he pinches, rolls, and tugs on your nipple. His other hand between your legs moves faster to match Dick’s pace.

You whine and try to close your legs, but Jason keeps them firmly apart.

“I’m about—” you try to warn, but the knot snaps, cumming over both men’s hands. Your hips stutter and your muscles contract against Jason. Your eyes roll back as your chest heaves.

Dick and Jason continue their movements, steadily coming to a stop.

You lay still against Jason while you catch your breath. He kisses your head and carefully lays you back onto the pillows. You already feel sore in your throat and between your legs, but you wouldn’t trade this feeling. You feel exhausted, but so happy.

You watch with tired eyes as Dick climbs off the mattress. He gets dressed and then comes to the side of the bed. He tilts your face toward his.

“Thank you. I had a fun time,” he says sweetly.

You smile. “Thank you, and me too.”

Dick grins, tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, then makes his way to the door. You watch as Jason and Dick exchange a respectful nod before Dick leaves.

Jason waits a minute before asking softly, “You okay?”

“More than okay,” you mumble.

“You’re not getting too attached to Dick now, are you?” he teases, but you know there’s a sliver of worry in his chest.

You shake your head, leaning up. “Never, Jay. I only ever want you.”

“You’re so good to me,” he sighs and kisses you fiercely. You can tell he’s putting all the thoughts he can’t form with words in the kiss. It makes your heart melt. If anything, you feel closer to Jason.

“How are you feeling?” you ask after the kiss.

Jason grazes his fingertips along your skin. “I’m good.”

“Just good?” you pry.

“As long as you’re not falling for Dick, I’m good.”

You raise a hand to his face. “You’ll forever be the only one who has my heart, Jason Todd. And I’m grateful you trust me, and Dick, to have experienced tonight. Did you not have fun?”

“I did,” he pauses as if debating his next thought. “Thought it was kinda hot seeing you take two cocks at once.”

Your body heats at remembering the feeling. You trail your hand from his face to his chest.

“Kinda?” you wonder.

Jason smiles and grabs your hand. He kisses your knuckles.

“Okay, it was really fucking hot,” he admits.

You giggle and hide your face in his chest. He laughs, wrapping his strong arms around your body.

“You getting shy on me now, princess?” he asks.

You don’t reply and nuzzle your head deeper. One of your legs drapes over his body, pressing yourself against him as if trying to disappear. The simple motion brushes your pussy against his dick and sends a shiver down your spine.

Jason must feel the same thing because he releases a shaky sigh.

You’re both quiet as you think of what to do. Your body is spent, and your energy is low. However, the thought of Jason filling you up has another wave of lust circulating through you.

“I want to feel you again,” you murmur.

Jason lifts your face and connects your lips. It’s a languid kiss that still makes your heart race even after all these years.

He reaches down, covers his shaft with his cum from earlier, then aligns his cock with your hole and eases inside again.

Jason swallows the noise you make, continuing the kiss. He rocks his hips in a leisurely rhythm.

You hold onto him tightly. You savor the taste of his tongue and the feeling of him inside you. Jason’s love for you is oozing from his pores, and you bask in it as he holds you equally as tight.

You hope in your next life that you and Jason will find your way to each other again for you can’t ever imagine being with anyone else.

©️CHAOTIC-BIRDS // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

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pluvialpoet · 1 year ago

Text

how to disappear

Summary: a reunion ten years in the making serves as a reminder that absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder- especially when history has a tendency to repeat itself

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!vigilante!reader

Requested: no

Warning: nsfw!!! (18+ MDNI), porn with plot, lovers to enemies, unprotected sex, implied breeding kink, choking, angst, minor barbara gordon slander (for the plot, I swear)- do not read if you are not comfortable with the warnings listed above!!!

Word Count: 12,874

masterlist

Light reflects off the crystals that hang from the chandeliers above, and like a moth drawn to a shiny flame, you bask in the warmth of their glow. For as beautiful as the crystalline teardrops twenty-two feet overhead are, they dull in comparison to the- equal parts blinding and mesmerizing, simultaneously gorgeous, yet gaudy- diamonds that dangle from earlobes, rubies that rest against décolletages, and the pearls placed upon dainty fingers in an over the top display of money, power, and status. It’s the epitome of wealth, and though meant to allure, you find yourself disgusted by the flashy exhibitions of greed and corruption.

Every smile is artificial. Every laugh is humorless and diluted. Any feeling beyond complete and utter misery is a hoax. Yet, they play their parts. Each and every one of them continues to mingle, boast, and feign genuineness, but it’s obvious what they are, even beneath their disguises, you recognize the vultures circling the fresh carnage of the innocent- with blood on their talons and a hunger that’s never truly satiated. Do they even know what they’ve done? Do they even care? Given a chance to make amends, would any of them take it?

Revulsion counters amusement as you watch the elite interact with one another. It’s pathetic. In a room full of affluence, not a single person knows pleasure beyond material possessions, and that’s an injustice in itself. Amongst thieves, you’re the honesty that rivals them all- and that’s a scary revelation, all things considered.

Taking advantage of the large crowd, you continue to bump elbows with the rich- literally- as you weave your way through the opulent mass. A tight-lipped smile is granted when you pass an older woman, and an even wider flash of teeth catches your attention from a man around your age. Mimicking the gestures seal your fate, damning you- even if only temporarily- to this game of confusion, a game in which approval and disgust are indiscernible. Having had years to grow accustomed to the tricks of this elitist trade, it’s almost impossible to recall a simpler time. Back when you still thought there might be a modicum of authenticity behind the action, back before you were close enough to spot the invisible strings controlling the marionettes, you believed- and even hoped- that you had it all wrong. There was a time, long, long ago, when you were desperate to believe that there was still some good left in these people, but you grew out of your naivety. Now older, and wiser, you won’t make the same mistakes you once made. Under the influence of optimism, your purpose became convoluted. Not anymore.

Without anyone to dissuade you from reaching out- to challenge you from swiping a few bejeweled tennis bracelets, engagement rings, or even one or two watches and calling it a day- a thrum of urgency spreads through your fingertips. It’s an impulsive electricity you can’t deny. Besides, it’s not like social dynasties would crumble if a few diamonds went missing. If only it were that easy…

Wealth doesn’t doom these poor, unfortunate souls, but their greed- coupled with the blood on their hands- paints a distinguishable target on their backs. If you look closely, it’s impossible to miss that they’re all cut from the same cloth. A hundred different reflections of the same privileged archetype imitate the same gestures, mannerisms, and movements to a tee. An amateur would operate under the guise of distraction- causing a small scene and offering their apologies before making off with their prize- but you’re not an amateur. Not anymore. Not by a long shot.

A few women- four or five, at most- nurse flutes of bubbling booze a few feet away. The sound of their laughter is a little too joyous to be feigned and when one of them waves a manicured hand towards a waiter, signaling another round of drinks, you start to put the pieces together. Perhaps, the ladies in your sights are the most genuine in attendance- even if they’ve lost themselves to their cups. Matching their demeanor is child’s play. Once equipped with a half-empty glass from a server on their way back to the kitchens, you stumble towards the group, plastering on the same elated- intoxicated- grin, and hope that they’re inebriated enough to be welcoming towards a newcomer. Masking the bitter taste of insincerity with a sip of prosecco, a greeting rises from the mix, but it never has the chance to come to fruition because a large hand wraps around your wrist- effectively halting your heist before it even really had a chance to begin.

You should’ve known better.

As you turn to glare at the idiot who dared to put their hands on you, your breath catches.

Two birds die from the blow of one stone, and he takes advantage of your stupor- finding that you’re more pliant in your daze- leading you away from the women you intended to rob, and into the crowd. More witnesses make it less likely for you to cause a scene. At least, that’s his logic, anyway. While it’s not exactly flawed, it’s not all that accurate, either, but for old time's sake, you’ll play along. His hold on you remains firm, and he reaches for the flute in your hand with his other, placing it on a tray and discarding the prop. Your surprise begins to morph into anger- especially when he pulls you closer towards him as the orchestra starts to play a tune. Remembering the steps forced upon you as a child is muscle memory, and you glare daggers up at him- though, they don’t pierce nearly as deeply as the blue of his irises.

“Nice hair,” Dick revels in your obvious frustration of being thwarted, his lips curling into a smirk when your frown deepens, and he asks, “I thought you were blonde, last I saw you?”

“I was,” For the sake of maintaining appearances, you don a phony expression of your own and respond with as much benevolence as you can muster- even though you’re filled with animosity- as he leads you through the steps of the dance. “And you didn’t have a five o’clock shadow,” You note, allowing yourself a split second to take in everything that’s changed since the last time you saw him, before pressing your lips together tightly with a huff.

“Things change.”

As if he needed the reminder…

Chance has never meddled in your relationship. Coincidence doesn’t exist within the realm of precision both you and Dick operate from. Everything has always been on purpose, calculated and planned, never left blindly to fate or possibility- which is why this meeting isn’t an accident. As if he can feel you about to pull away, he flexes his fingers against you, tightening his grip and holding you in place. Ten years later- ten years too late- he’s found you. Not destiny, not a fluke, but with his own intention, and you wish that he would’ve just stayed away.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” As you abandon your costume, your smile falls away to reveal genuine loathing as you force the question from behind gritted teeth. Still, despite your obvious disdain, he doesn’t let you go. “Last I checked, you were in San Francisco- and more recently, Blüdhaven. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You keeping tabs on me?” His amusement contradicts your revulsion, and a shallow breath purges the threat of an outburst. Dick has always had a way of getting under your skin, of pushing your buttons and doing everything he possibly could to make you tick, but the sudden onslaught of such juvenile taunting fills you with a fire not even he can extinguish- not anymore. Despite his charming exterior, the steady flow of his breath, and the easy grin of confidence that was once impossible not to mirror, dampness swells where your palms meet, and you feel the rough, raised reminders that he’s kept busy during your time apart- that he’s evolved into a stranger despite how familiar he still seems- and you wonder if he can feel it too, if he can tell just by touch, that you’re not the same girl he once knew.

“I keep tabs on everyone who might get in my way,” Your eyes narrow accusatorially, and the corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re not special.”

“That’s not what you said the last time we-“

“Yeah, well, the last time was when we were teenagers, and a lot has changed since then.” Any attempt to remain cordial flies out the window when he dares to mention the last time- like it hasn’t plagued you for a decade. Not even he possesses the antidote to the venom your words carry, and he winces slightly as your rebuttal shakes. He clears his throat softly, the sound filling the lull where an apology should sound, and he takes a look over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again.

“Any chance I can convince you not to go through with whatever it is you’re planning?” It brings little joy to watch his smile dissolve into something more serious. His face hardens, and you notice lines and creases that you aren’t well acquainted with- unable to distinguish battle scars from the divots of age- and you quickly shake the thought away. Instead, you stare at him blankly, not revealing an answer. Though, he takes your lack of conversation as a reply, and with a heavy sigh, he shakes his head, “Yeah, I figured.”

He dares to express melancholy. Stunned by his nerve, after everything, not even shame or regret could rattle his courage enough for him to reconsider such a crestfallen expression, and the discouraged twist of his lips and the downcast slant of his eyes are so pronounced and dramatic that you’re unable to discern whether or not this is part of a ruse, or his genuine reaction.

“Did you think that would work?” Your skepticism is muddled with ridicule, a mocking scoff filling the line meant for his counter. It’s almost laughable- the nerve he has to look dejected by your questioning. To be fair, it’s been a while since he’s danced this dance- a routine once familiar, consisting of bite and bark, push and shove, before simultaneous defeat and victory- but he’s smart enough to know that that’s not how this works. “I mean what did you think would happen, birdy? I’d take one look at you, all grown and handsome, and reconsider my plans?”

Even in heels, he’s taller than you remember. He’s always been pretty- all mesmerizing eyes, slightly crooked smile, and sunkissed skin- but not even he was immune to the awkwardness brought forth by puberty. There was a time when he thought his shoulders were too broad, his ears too big, and the angular structure of his face too sharp and strong for a boy. It didn’t look right. Features that were admirable on their own, looked out of place on his face- or so he feared. You always thought he was beautiful- especially when he didn’t know it.

Now, Boy Wonder is all grown up, exuding confidence and oozing charm. He knows he’s attractive, but he doesn’t parade his arrogance- not anymore. His early twenties were a never-ending roller coaster of trying to find himself, his purpose, and where he fit into the grand scheme of things. Conflicted by right and wrong, tempted by lust and surrender, divided by good and evil, he’s had a lot of time to awaken from the grogginess inflicted by nightmares of freedom and liberation. Still, his eyes are just as mesmerizing, his teeth are straight- but his smile is still crooked- and he’s truly grown into himself. The man before you is a boy evolved- still a bird, but with a different set of wings. Robin is an old friend, a fond recollection of a different time, and though the stranger before you mimics the familiarity you’ve longed for, he’s not Robin, anymore- he’s Nightwing.

“Look, they’re anticipating for you to strike,” His warning is low and hushed, but even in whispers you’re able to detect his plea. Call it concern, or at the very least interest in serving justice as quietly as possible, but his timbre urges you to reconsider- if not for his sake, then for the sake of those around you. He really doesn’t want to cause a scene. “Security has been tripled, and you’ve grown sloppy-“

“Did you ever consider that the trail I was leaving behind wasn’t for anyone else but the one person I wanted to find me?” There’s no affection behind the way your fingers thread through the dark tresses at the nape of his neck. Without any fondness, without passion, or care, the action is mindless, meaningless, and merely muscle memory. There’s no repressed feelings you wish to convey, no animosity you’re trying to diffuse. With no hidden agenda, the gesture serves no purpose- except to unintentionally torture you both. Old habits die hard, and something undefined urges you to reach for him. He flushes, and the sight is so droll that you can’t bring yourself to stop. His lips part once, twice, three times, trying to produce an answer, but he’s at a loss. When you cock your head to the side, he tenses. “Of course, you didn’t,” You purr, and he clears his throat softly.

Dick’s no stranger to berating. He knows what it feels like to be chastised, scolded, and reprimanded. This exchange feels similar. The only difference is that you don’t raise your voice, your eyes don’t darken and you don’t threaten him- not with words, at least. If anything, the remark feels like a gentle rebuke, but the sting left from the impact of your insult brands him with shame. You’ve always seen right through him. Easily able to discern real from fake- truth from falsity- under both his domino mask and the hardened mask of his stoic expressions, you’ve always had a knack for exposing his most vulnerable self- welcoming his flaws, humility, and weaknesses to light. Even though he’s not the same kid he was when you first crossed paths, he feels just as naive and guileless as the boy he once once.

“You and the bat were never really known for considering every angle,” Spoken so thoughtfully, he’s almost able to forgive the verbal assault. As intended, the blow lands- precise, heavy, and unforgiving in the center of his chest- and the muscles in his jaw tighten with thinly veiled frustration. It seems, that in the moment he needs his voice the most, it evades him. He swallows consonants and vowels, a jumbled mix of letters that sit heavy atop his palate, and focuses on maintaining his composure- though, his steps are a beat behind and his footing seems, suddenly, unsure. You’ve struck a nerve. Whether or not you intend to wound, the damage is already done. Picking at scabs that should’ve scarred a long time ago cause his insecurities to bleed- a punch more lethal than brute strength and weaponry combined.

Blindsided by the truth, he feels utterly defenseless.

“Can I ask you something, Dick?” Your brows barely pinch together, your voice calm and steady as something softens in your gaze. Dick should know better than to let his guard down- especially when you lean in, and your lips brush against his ear, “If you’re the hero, here to save the day, does that make me the villain?”

“No, you’re not-“

“How about this, which is the lesser of two evils- knowing that you’re protecting a corrupted establishment because it’s what you believe to be morally correct, or taking back what was wrongfully stolen and returning it to its rightful owners?” As you tilt your head to the side, he hates the way that you look up at him through your lashes. It’s not a demure move. You’re demanding an answer, and a look like that- a look meant to allure, tempt, and bait- would have a weaker man spilling his deepest darkest secrets. With a sharp inhale, he reminds himself that the tricks up your sleeve aren’t new. He knows all of the cards you’re going to play- albeit, he’s unaware of the order in which you’re going to play them- and he won’t allow history to repeat itself. Purposely, your thumb caresses the back of his hand- the touch feather-light, but far from hesitant or accidental- and his breath hitches. Dick doesn’t undermine the small, sinister smile that threatens to spread into a victorious grin when he fails to answer your question. Perhaps, he doesn’t know the answer. Or, perhaps, he’s just distracted. Either way, your voice fills the absence of his own. “We’re not on different sides of a playing field, Grayson. You and I aren’t on opposite ends of a spectrum, we’ve always been right in the middle- dancing on a thin line.”

Prompted by the soothing symphony of strings, Dick twirls you- delicately extending his arm and leading you into a spin before pulling you back in- and it’s fitting, the push and pull between you so familiar it almost feels as choreographed as the steps of the waltz you’re dancing.

History repeating itself, just one more time.

“We both know you’re not here to turn me in, because if you were going to, you would’ve done it by now.” Your arrogance causes something to snap within him. Clarity comes rushing back as he breaks free from your spell. Without meaning to, his grip on your hand tightens.

“Look, I understand why you’re doing this, but-“

“No, you don’t.” Like a switch being flipped, your façade shatters- revealing a face so unbridled with emotions that not even a mask could obscure. He’s defensive. Tired of grappling for control over the situation, he tastes power as he parts his lips with a clever retort, but you don’t allow him the space to get a word in. “Did you know that last year, the city council held a vote to refurbish a few run-down parks on the south side of Gotham with the hopes of restoring the communities destroyed by violence, or increasing the GCPD budget?” The heat behind your accusation pokes and prods at his curiosity, coloring him intrigued. Admittedly, he’s not the most up-to-date on Gotham’s politics, but something this large shouldn’t have slipped under his radar- or the watchful eyes of those who swore themselves to protect the beloved city.

It’s deeper than that, though.

Your frustrations, however warranted, seem to extend beyond such an injustice. Between the lines, amongst all the words you haven’t said, there’s a decipher hidden in every twitch, gesture, and glare. From the way your eyes narrow, to the sharp exhale and tightening grip of your fingertips. To sweaty palms and clenched teeth, all the way to flared nostrils- there’s something just beneath the surface that he can’t crack. Too much time has passed for him to unscramble tacitness when he no longer understands the codes in which you speak, and, unfortunately, he needs you to paint a clearer picture than the vague abstract before him.

“When it came down to it, do you think that the citizens of the south side had a say in the matter?” Dick’s smart. He’s not just a pretty face or a nice body- he’s actually got brains to match. You know- deep down- that sooner or later, shapeless pieces will fall into place to reveal the completed puzzle, but you need him to come to the conclusion all on his own. It would be easy to simply reveal your motive, and while a straightforward approach may have been less complicated than the mental gymnastics you’re forcing him to perform, it wouldn’t have been as impactful. Dick needs to understand, and to understand, he needs to feel- the same anger, outrage, and upset you felt. “Do you think the people on the other side of the tracks were given a chance to speak in front of the council?”

“They can’t segregate who speaks publicly-“ The gears are turning- some slower, some faster, and others completely out of control as he struggles to make sense of your elusiveness. When the current song fades out, a scattered round of applause takes its place before a new song begins. Hardly anyone else is dancing, save for a handful of couples who look just about as miserable as you and Dick- without the coordination or grace, the two of you share. It takes him too long to jump to the conclusion, and you tire of waiting for him to put the pieces together on his own. He always did work better with a helping hand- though, the quality of his work declined greatly whenever your hands were involved.

“You’re right,” Your agreement further confuses him, until an additional explanation provides the last bit of clarity he’d been seeking. “But they can change the date, time, and venue of the meeting without alerting the other parties involved, parties that spent weeks building the foundations of a strong claim, and vote on the matter without them being present- subsequently, granting them access to funnel more funds back into their pensions.”

“That’s not possible,” His argument is backed by disbelief instead of reason, denial influencing his refusal to accept such an absurdity, even in spite of proof, and every ugly, undesirable, nasty feeling you’re not supposed to have swirls together in the pit of your stomach at his incredulity.

How can he still be so blind? How, after all of the evil that he’s witnessed, how can he deny the truth in favor of possibility? He may be a man grown, but he still lives in a delusional state of boyhood- where he still clings to hope and the prospect of good intentions even when the jury has already delivered a conviction.

“Why not?” You seethe, simultaneously demanding an answer without allowing him the chance to speak. Unfortunately, whatever’s been brewing amongst your insides finally bubbles over and your own reluctance to accept an outcome where he doesn’t justify your point of view sharpens the words at the tip of your tongue until they’re as lethal as any weapon. “Because good old Commissioner Gordon wouldn’t let that happen?”

It’s resentment- the concoction without a name- but it’s also envy, pain, and perhaps a bit of fear. At the very least, it’s petty, to bring her into this and force him to pick a side, but it’s been corroding your logic- eroding a place in your chest that’s been dormant ever since he last filled it with life and meaning- and you watch his demeanor shift when his lips part to defend her. You can’t bear whatever praise he’s sure to dole out in her defense, especially when she’s just as guilty as the rest of them, as far as you’re concerned. Before he has a chance to tear you to shreds with his ire, you interrupt.

“Look, just because the commissioner has a heart, doesn’t mean that the animals working for the force do.” Without any conviction, you start to claw at the mire on either side of you, closing you in. “It’s always been bad, but it’s gotten a lot worse.” He can’t argue with that. Worse doesn’t even come close to how downright doomed Gotham is now that someone’s poisoned most of the police force. The one group of people who are supposed to remain impartial to power and abide by the laws they’re sworn to uphold, have turned their backs on the people who needed them most, and the people hurting- the ones without flashy jewels or the stomachs for caviar and champagne- don’t have anyone looking out for them.

Not the way they used to, anyway.

“You don’t get to come here and lecture me about what’s right and what’s wrong, just because she asked you to.” Bittersweet tips towards bitter and a sour taste settles in your mouth at the suggestion that she had even the slightest part to play in your reunion. “You’re a few years too late for that, birdy.” This time when the song ends, you take a step back- though, his thumb brushes against the back of your hand before you pull away, the phantom of a silent prospect lingering even when the warmth of him is gone. Once, it was what you sought. He was what you sought. Years of desolation turned your desire for that same heat- tender touches and gentle caresses against skin- into favor of bleakness. You don’t regret pulling away from him, not as much as you did back them. This time, it’s warranted- a choice you make unobstructed by what you’re feeling, now that you know the outcome of what was fated to happen between the two of you.

“I appreciate the dance,” You swallow, your throat tightening with words you won’t allow yourself to say. Instead, a retort finds you, though it feels foreign as you speak it into existence. “Maybe we’ll do it again in a couple of years,”

Without waiting for a reaction, you head off down the same way you came, and this time, without any intervention, he lets you go.

The bathroom door shuts behind you, and the sounds of lively chatter and the hum of instrumentals fade away until you’re consumed by a silence so stark that it buries you. It doesn’t feel real. The soft tapping of your heels against the glossy marble floors cuts through the nothingness- even the slightest echo in the void registering as an alarm, coaxing panic and fear from the rusted, forgotten cells you banished them to long ago- and when you finally take a look in the mirror, you don’t recognize the face that stares back at you.

Your reflection is plagued by guilt, and haunted by ghosts of the past. Well, one ghost, in particular.

Running into Dick Grayson was something you’d prepared for. Since the day you last parted, you always knew that there was a possibility your paths could, and inevitably would, cross again. It was destined to happen, and you were doomed from the start. He makes you reckless. He makes you sloppy and distracted and forgiving. He makes you weak. Back then, before everything that drove a wedge between the two of you, you had a bit of a soft spot for him. He was the only other person in the world who truly understood the life you lived because he was living a different version of the same life. Both protégés, both headstrong and zealous- attributes recognized as both strengths and faults- and both dancing a choreographed routine in the shadows cast by the bat and the cat. The two of you were fated. It was only a matter of time before you started pulling your punches, and he started letting you get away.

The chase was always the best part- second only to the capture.

Still, it’s been years since he left. You’re not the same girl he once knew, and he might as well have been a stranger. More than a decade apart will do that to two people. For everything that’s changed, one thing remains the same- the chase and the capture are unavoidable.

With a shaky exhale, your chest tightens. Resting your palms on either side of the expensive stone washbasin, you attempt to focus on regaining your composure- but another heavy intake of breath punches your lungs. You haven’t come this far just to let him swoop in and gain the upper hand. You’re done pulling your punches. Flipping the golden faucet on, you allow trickling water to interrupt the unbearable silence that surrounds you- a lull so loud it sounds like buzzing static without the interruption of something mundane. With a few more deep breaths, in and out, you begin to fumble with the clasp on your clutch, opening the small bag to retrieve a tube of lipstick. The color has started to fade from your lips, and you use the moment of stillness to touch up your makeup. If nothing else, maybe your reflection will look less distraught with a signature swipe of dark red. You long for a sense of familiarity that you can control.

Above the trickling from the luxurious spout, the door squeaks- or perhaps, it cries- as it’s pushed open, revealing a mirage basked in artificial light and a custom-tailored suit. As your fingertips graze the fixture responsible for the steady stream of distraction, a thud sounds, and seconds later, the unmistakable click of a lock latching into place seals your fate. A wave of emotion- a tsunami of feelings- brings forth a myriad of everything, all at once. Just as you suspected you always would, you’re drowning- caught in a riptide of your past and present, finally merging in a deadly current that threatens to pull you below the depths of your worst fears and direful imagination. You swallow thickly as you close your eyes. It fills your mouth with delusions of saltwater.

This isn’t supposed to happen- at least, not like this, it’s not- but the one thing you’ve been running from has finally caught back up to you. Now’s the time to set the record straight. No more ties. No more draws. Tonight, the victory is yours- regardless of his intervention. He’s taken too much from you to take this too, and you’re done letting him.

“I already told you that this is pointless,” You don’t even look at him. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of meeting his overbearing stare. A swirling sea of darkening blue attempts to sail back to shore- pleading to find refuge within familiar comforts and intimacy- but you cast your gaze back to your reflection, focusing on fixing the corners of your lipstick and leaving him afloat. “You’re not going to stop me.” The promise is backed by conviction- though, you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him, or yourself.

The muscle in Dick’s jaw flexes as he grits his teeth- forcing ivories to clench and grind against each other, creating a perfect, white prison to cage the words he wishes to speak. Stifling his emotions is conventional. It’s a routine he’s perfected through years of reluctant practice. Though uncomfortable and daunting, the void in which he sentences all that’s repressed is secure. It’s safe- if only in the sense that it’s familiar.

You’re familiar- rather, you were once familiar- but he can’t cross a bridge that’s been burned, molten ash still ablaze amongst the rubble, and expect to be welcomed back with open arms. Not after everything that’s changed. Not after everything that’s happened.

Not after what he did.

“I need a list of names,” The determination in Dick’s voice contradicts everything he feels inside. His face hardens- a mask, a shield, protection- and he stands a little taller, fixated on resolving the one problem he could actually solve. “Names of the officers involved in whatever this is,” He clarifies with an uneasy edge to his voice- like he already knows he’s bit off more than he can chew, but he can’t stop himself from going back for seconds, thirds, and fourths.

For all that’s changed, Dick remains the same. A phantom- a spirit, a memory, a ghost- of the boy you once knew disappears just as quickly as your imagination teases familiar red, yellow, and green. He’s not the same. You know it to be true, and yet, you find yourself distracted by glimpses and figments from a different life entirely.

“Grab a pen,” A scoff, an eye roll, and the gentle shake of your head, disbelief and credence existing in tandem- contradicting each other when your eyes finally meet his. “It would be a shorter list if you started with the people who aren’t guilty of committing some type of fraudulent activity.”

You’re not a bad person. Despite varying beliefs, you’re not evil. Mayhem doesn’t bring you joy. Confrontation doesn’t get you off. There’s little pleasure to be found in being the itch that people can’t scratch. You’ve never sought out violence or peril, and you seldom plan on causing either. Just like Dick- just like Bruce- you operate under a different moral code, but a moral code, nevertheless. Even if the only thing it provides is an excuse to justify why you do what you do, you still hold yourself to a standard. Unlike the vile, chaos-thirsty cravens that would happily light the match and watch the world burn, you’re selfless- bound to your morals, if nothing else.

What you do, the sacrifices you make- everything that you’ve lost and everything you’ve fought for- is fueled by benevolence. You’re in a position to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves, to speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves. The power to defend those who have had their rights stripped from them- those who have had their power stolen by greed corruption and profit- is in your hands. You’ll be damned if you let anyone stand in your way and prevent you from doing what you know is right.

Through the reflection in the mirror, you recognize the face that stares back at you. Gone is the fear and doubt that mangled your features unrecognizable. With a heavy sigh, you unclip the earrings that dangle from your earlobes- and the buzzing sound of static fades away completely.

You know what you have to do.

The sound of your heels against the tile might as well have been deafening in contrast to the silence that follows your remark. As you cross the room, your resolve sharpens. Dick Grayson has taken so much from you, you won’t let him take this, too.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me-“ You feign saccharine, your tone phony and filled with counterfeit regret, as you reach for the locked door handle, but Dick blocks the latch, stepping in front of you before you have a chance to wrap your hand around the lever. He knows exactly what buttons to press and genuine annoyance, anger, and frustration fill the space where your poor imitation of remorse once occupied. Through gritted teeth, you command him, lowly, “Move, Dick.”

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart,” He says it so easily, with a sorrowful sigh and undisputed repentance, that you almost buy the sincerity he’s trying to sell. Unfortunately, for him, you’re not in the market for his misery. He’s a few years too late. Dick can turn his charm up to ten thousand- he can say all the right things and plead with his perfect crystalline eyes- but you won’t risk everything you’ve fought for for a few crocodile tears. You know, now, that you’re better than that. One way or another, you’re getting out of this bathroom- and if you have to go through him to do so, then so be it.

“And you know I’m not above fighting you, right?” He’s entirely unprepared for your snark, the bite that fuels your reply nearly nipping his sense of control straight from the palm of his hand. It’s obvious that this isn’t the same game that it once was, but something much more dangerous. “The dance wasn’t enough?” With your arms across your chest, you challenge, and he hates the way you’re looking at him- like your eyes are piercing straight through him instead of actually looking at him. If you bothered to look closely enough, you’d be able to decipher all of the blatant emotions he’s never been the greatest at hiding. One look and you’d see him- and his heart beating proudly on his sleeve. It’s why you don’t spare him a glance. “You still feeling nostalgic for old times? Because this feels awfully familiar, doesn’t it?”

“What are you going to do with the money?” He asks, fighting to keep his voice stern. His poker face was never the best- or, maybe you could just read him better than most people could. Still, as he stands before you, he grapples with his devotion to whatever this competition is. This clash will never see a winner- only two losers- and he knows it. You do, too- but unlike him, you’re not willing to back down without a fight.

“Give it back to those who rightfully deserve it.” He doesn’t deserve your honesty. He has no right to the truth, but you don’t have it in you to scheme an elaborate lie. However gratifying it might’ve been to feed him false information and watch him fly in circles, you’re too exhausted for mental gymnastics. Like clockwork, you give, and he takes- his stare narrowing, almost accusatorially.

“And who are you to decide who rightfully deserves it?” There’s an edge to his question- like he can’t fathom justice without his divine intervention- and it’s grating, the way he can make you feel so small, and worthless with a single sentence. His arrogance is astounding. Who was he to seek vengeance against Slade Wilson? Who was he to target Heartless? Who was he to sentence Tony Zucco to his death- by placing him behind bars, and granting other enemies easy access to the crime lord, which ultimately led to his demise? The self-righteous guilt trip nearly gives you whiplash from how fast it makes your head spin. He’s no different than you are- no better or worse, since you operate on the same playing field. He doesn’t get to act like he is. Someone needs to knock him down a few pegs, and you’re happily up for the challenge.

“Who are you to try to stop me?”

“Someone who knows you,” He replies, instinctively. “Someone who’s a friend, not a foe.”

“Hmm,” With a bitter laugh, your stomach churns- twisting, clenching, and swirling with swells of irritation, regret, and sorrow- and although it’s a familiar discomfort, it’s been years since you’ve felt the threat of splintering cracks, chipping away at the stone-cold facade of your exterior. Come to think of it, the last time you felt this way was when Selina had told you that Dick left for San Francisco. The reminder fills you with a bitterness you’ve long tried to suppress, and as it bubbles to the surface, so do all of the repressed thoughts and emotions that’ve haunted you for years.

For a moment, you ache- chasing forgotten remembrance plagued by wistfulness. Then, you burn.

“Friends call every once in a while, and if they can’t make it to a phone, they send a postcard to let you know that they’re still alive and well.” Vexation forces your eyes to narrow, the color of your eyes morphing into something much more bleak. With a heavy exhale- filled with frustration and a semblance of humility- you remind him, “Friends don’t disappear into thin fucking air without letting you know why- especially, after those friends, were always a little more than just friends.” There’s a darkness behind your eyes that Dick’s not familiar with, and a weight settles in the hollow emptiness of his chest before sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. His jaw clenches and he swallows thickly- the tastes of bile, rue, and shame all indiscernible from one another as he forces them back down.

He knows you’re right.

While his absence was abrupt, it had nothing to do with any ill will towards you. There was never a falling out- no crossing a line of no return or being pushed past a point that shattered a shared fantasy. Though the bullet posed no real threat of death by passing through his arm- beyond the phantom agony of lead tearing through flesh, and the hot, wet feeling of crimson pouring from the wound- a part of Dick Grayson did, in fact, die that night, at the hands of the Joker. The Clown Prince of Crime set off a domino effect when he fired at the young Boy Wonder, inevitably altering the course of his life forever. Acts of violent intent seldom harm a single soul, and as if it were fated, you became another casualty from an attack that was never meant for you.

When Bruce fired Dick, he was angry. Back then, thoughts of hanging up the cape never, ever, crossed his mind. Back then, he was content with fighting crime alongside his mentor, and never really considered what would happen next- or if there’d even be a next, or an after. He felt betrayed, abandoned, and filled with cynicism. As selfish as it was, you weren’t even really an afterthought in the downfall of his life caving in and swallowing him whole. He needed time to heal- time to rebuild- and prioritize who he was when he wasn’t hiding in the shadows left behind by a cape and cowl. Years passed, and with time to reflect, Dick’s bitter resentment morphed into a new kind of devotion to himself, and the few that started to look to him for guidance.

Before the Titans, he never really considered himself to be a leader. He spent most of his life abiding by rules and plans- roles and paths- that were set for him by another. Had he been hungry for control before, his first real taste solidified an insatiable appetite for the very thing he felt himself deprived of for too many years. Though, he’d come to learn that there was an ugly side to the power he wielded. Some days, the responsibility felt like a burden, and others, he felt like his guilt and uncertainty would swallow him whole. He bottled up all of his doubts, packed them somewhere deep inside the closed-off caverns in his heart where darker demons haunted, and forced them elsewhere- out of sight, and out of mind, but never truly gone.

It’s not fair that, somehow, you’ve come to possess the key that matches the lock on his Pandora’s box. Every emotion, every feeling, and every thought meant to be suppressed and banished to a place where they couldn’t torment or harm him, refuses to go gently when one simple, magnetic look threatens to release them from their cages of skin and bone. The most daunting realization of all, however, is that he’s the one to blame- for everything.

For all of it.

Selfishly, he’s hoped for an ember amongst the carnage he’s created. He’s held onto some convoluted idea of hope that whatever was once alight could be reignited again if he fully committed himself to an apology, but he failed to acknowledge the amount of ashes he’d have to sift through for a hint of a spark. There’s too much disappointment, too much duplicity, regret, and time passed between the two of you for things to ever revert back to even a semblance of what they once were.

He looks to you now, and he sees it- your anger is a mask for your pain. It’s so faint he almost misses it, but your lip threatens to wobble. Beyond the wrath you try to convey with the narrowed glare of your eyes, he watches as thinly veiled yearning mingles with what’s left of the color of your irises- simultaneously faint, yet prominent to the only other person who knows what it’s like to push away the person you love. What Dick and you shared wasn’t love, but it could’ve been and that’s what you’re both mourning- what could’ve been.

“You and I aren’t friends, Dick.” He hates the finality behind your conviction. It’s so cold, and void of the warmth he associated with you once upon a time. A split second threatens to expose the façade, and you blink back tears instead of allowing them to fall- swallowing emotion and banishing it elsewhere. Feelings have no place here. Instead, you grit your teeth, clenching them together so tightly that your jaw begins to ache. He watches you struggle to commit to the act- because that’s what your rage is, an outlet for your passions- and as you take a step closer toward him, his breath hitches. “Now, get out of my way,”

Toe to toe, you meet his gaze, and no matter how hard you try to fight it, despite your best efforts to disguise what you truly feel, Dick sees right through you- recognizing the parts of you that you try to mold and shape into something else. After all, he’s your greatest weakness- and you’re his. You always have been, and he always will be.

He dares to move. This close, he resists the urge to reach out for you and never let you go again, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you. Hesitantly, he raises his hand, his eyes never leaving yours as the shaky tips of his fingers graze your chin with a tenderness you’ve sought since the last time you felt it. The air is tense, passed back and forth by sharp breaths and thundering pulses- intimate with warmth and affection that mimics that of a simpler time- and when his palm rests against your cheek, cradling it with such gentle endearment in the face of betrayal, you let him. Dick’s throat bobs, and he pours everything he can’t bring himself to say into such a delicate touch. Every apology he wishes he had the courage to speak aloud, every declaration of devotion he was too afraid to voice, and every inevitable truth he attempted to ignore lingers, and you can feel it- in every shy stroke of his thumb across your cheek.

“You’re not going to distract me,” A single tear merges with the pad of his thumb- a testament to your resilience, but no match for the broken, battered, beaten bond you share with the man before you- and your certainty begins to dwindle. There’s a string that ties you to him- an invisible thread strong enough to stitch the two of you back together when you should remain apart- but you’re destined for him, the same way he’s always been destined for you.

It was foolish to believe any differently.

“I’m not trying to distract you,” Barely above a whisper, he pleads, desperate to make you understand, “I’m trying to apologize.”

He hangs his head with defeat, his shoulder slumping forward as he peers down at you. He’s never known such cruel torture. Such sick and twisted suffering is self-inflicted. The past erodes his future, but he can’t stop himself from resurrecting his demons. Foolishly, he invites them to haunt him further- and you’re no exception. His tightrope is stretched taut, and it’s a long way down. How much longer can he balance between anemoia and actuality before tipping one way or the other? It’s insanity- repeating the same act and hoping for a different outcome- but Dick can’t bring himself to accept that this time won’t be different. If nothing else, the possibility that this never-ending game could crown two winners is enough for him to play the martyr, and suffer whatever repercussions might follow after barring himself whole. What more does he have to lose, if not everything he’s already lost, again?

It would be so easy to reach past him and turn the lock in your favor, granting your escape. Hell, with the way he’s looking at you now, you know that he wouldn’t even put up a fight. He’d let you waltz right past him, slipping through his fingers for the umpteenth time because he knows that this time won’t be the last. It never is. Visions blurred by uncertainty flash before your eyes- infinite possibilities, each with consequences and punishments, rewards and sacrifices- but the unknown doesn’t elicit the same adrenaline-filled excitement that it once did. Maybe because this time, Dick isn’t fighting back. Surrendering his shield, he abandons resistance- instead, entrusting you with the vulnerability that spills from his heart, blood crimson against his fingers as he squeezes it with each thump and thud- crumbling before you, and submitting everything he has to give to you. Even if he can’t bring himself to support your cause.

You lean in closer, drawn to him- the same way you always have been, and likely, always will be- and your palm hovers over his chest. For a second, it’s unclear whether or not you’re going to reach out for him or push him away, but when your hand meets the fabric that covers hard muscle, you know you’re done for- because in the same ways he’s willing to fall before you, you’re willing to fall before him, too. Over and over again. Repeatedly and infinitely.

“Well, you have impeccable timing,” Your reproach is close enough for him to taste. It wavers against his lips and slips past his tongue, allowing him to savor parts of you he hasn’t been allowed to indulge in for so long. There’s no mistaking the invitation of your reprover, and Dick’s palm rests against your lower back, coaxing you closer towards him as his nose brushes against yours. It’s dizzying, and your arms find their way around his neck to steady yourself when he rests his forehead against yours with a soft sigh. The irony of the situation isn’t lost upon you- even when the two of you have ceded to one another, you’re still fighting to see who will give in first. As if he’s come to the realization at the same time, a large hand- rough and callused, but soft and tender in the way that it trembles against your cheek with anticipation- encourages you to tilt your head back, and you follow his lead. You hold your breath as your lips part, and Dick surges forward, slotting his mouth against yours in a kiss that’s fueled by the release of years of pent-up longing, need, and want. The gesture is foreign, yet familiar. Reminiscent of the past, yet entirely new. Everything you remember and everything you’ve ever dreamed of merge together in this moment and bring life to what had only ever been fantasy before his lips found yours once more.

It’s exhilarating.

“I missed you,” The affirmation rumbles against your skin, warm with fervor and urgency, and it’s completely unnecessary- considering that each movement acts as a balm to soothe wounds of time, fear, and doubt- but he vows with each breath, relying on words to convey what his actions can not, and vice versa. Masks are off. Shields have been abandoned. Capes remain long forgotten at the door. This is no longer about duty or morality. No, this moment is about two people seeking confirmation for what they’ve always known to be true- that a love unspoken, but never absent has always existed between them. Two people- not vigilantes or heroes- two hearts, beating to guide the other back, are bare, open, honest, and raw without the theatrics of a chase or the pretense of a game. Surrender invites you to balance on the edge of a precipice, and you’re the first to lose your footing.

Desperation is an influence, and his lapels wrinkle with the severity of your hold. Through the haze of everything unknown, he’s the only thing that’s clear, and you reach for him- blindly, but intentionally- clawing at the fabric that keeps him from you. Clashing teeth and bruising grips don’t elicit pain, not when real suffering exists in the absence of the other, and you allow him to paint you violet, blue, green, and red with desire, becoming the embodiment of his want. Your only regret is that the evidence of this divine crime will eventually fade away to nothing more than a memory- another ache that will never dull, a moment so unique that it can never be replicated. As you rejoice, you mourn.

“Sure you did.” His blazer drops to the floor as you follow your script, hardly taking a moment to realize that the page you’re reading from is blank- without word or direction- as you venture into unknown territory. Even when you don’t mean to be, you’re combative. Even when you don’t want to be, you’re still on edge. This is different. This already feels different than before, and maybe it’s because there’s a lot more at stake now that both of you have already lost one another, but for as overdue as this homecoming is, something subconsciously prolongs it further.

“No, really, I-“ He begins, ready to mold rhetoric and force it to take on a form that would allow you to see just how much you mean to him, but that would make this real, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for this to be real yet- because if this is real, if this isn’t just a cruel imitation of memory like so many variations before or a concocted fantasy so vivid you can feel yourself shaking, then that means you can lose it all, again. Just like last time. Within your grip, one minute, slipping through your fingers the next.

“Don’t.” Fear sounds different when there’s a bite to it. It could almost pass as annoyance, if you’re able to keep your voice just steady enough, and he mistakes the command for irritation, rather than the timidity it actually is. Whatever you’ve intended and he’s interpreted gets lost along the way, and he takes a hesitant step back. It’s impossible not to lunge for him as he retreats, but you remain still- your breath hitching when he holds both hands out to you, surrendering his palms while he shows he meant no harm.

“Can I…”

“You don’t have to ask,” You silence his fears quickly, closing the space between you before you even realize that you’ve taken a step. This self-sacrificial eagerness to light yourself on fire just to keep him warm has always been one of your greatest downfalls, but a most ardent gesture, and with ash on your tongue and soot in your lungs, you strike a match the minute he begins to second guess himself. “Just pretend it’s like before.” The suggestion sounds just as unsure as you are, but with a heavy breath, you encourage, “Pretend that nothing’s changed…pretend that we’re still…” You can’t even bring yourself to say it, because the kids you were back then are gone. They’re never coming back. You can’t avenge them or try to seek vengeance for what they’ve lost. It’s over for them, but this is just the start of this new beginning for the two of you. “Just for tonight.”

He moves promptly, gathering the skirts of your dress in one hand, fisting the fabric- a blue so dark he mistook it for black, or perhaps it was, until his fingertips were close enough to paint the illusion with light, making it appear different than it was- without any regard for creases or lingering proof of your affair. Support rests at your back, his chest firm and protective as you lean into the rippling muscle, and Dick continues to illuminate shadows of the past with each touch- eager to help you forget all of the agonies suffered at his hands in favor of remembering glimpses of peace. He’s ready to give you more than just a taste. Now, he wants to gorge you with the pleasure he’s reserved.

His hands shake- not with hesitancy, but anticipation, and when you catch his eye in the mirror, you shiver. You’ve never seen a blue so dark it looks black- until now. Without warning, he mouths at your neck- kissing, sucking, biting, any part of you he can get his lips on- reacquainting himself with parts of you that were once so familiar, and you allow him to explore. Blindly, you reach for one of his hands, taking it in your own, and he begins to intertwine his fingers with yours, but you gently guide his hand where you want it most- and he lets you, following your lead just as impulsively. You jolt at the first brush of his fingertips between your legs, even though you were expecting it, and he lets out a few ragged breaths against the back of your neck. It’s paradoxical, the chills that contradict the flush of your skin, but this relationship has never really made sense before. Why should that change now?

Almost as if he’s in a trance, Dick is overwhelmed by the twists and turns of the evening, but the whiplash is starting to subside in favor of something much more exhilarating. He never thought he’d have this again. He believed moments like these to be lost to time, and he wasted years grieving memories he could never replicate, only to feel the weight of your body against his once more. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s everything he never knew he wanted or needed until it was stolen from him, swiped right out from under his nose by his own negligence. He won’t make the same mistakes this time. No, this time, he’s going to do it right. He’s going to-

“Fuck,” When you grow tired of his stalling, you force his hand, again. This time, when your fingers meet his wrist, you press your palm on top of his- coercing him to mimic the shape- and maybe you’re the one in control, or maybe he finally rises to the occasion, but with a newfound determination, he cups your cunt- a choked sound catching in his throat when he feels how wet you are. You briefly wonder how something so vulgar can sound so pretty, but you already know the answer- it’s him. It’s always been him. Had it been anyone else, the effect would cease to exist, but it’s Dick, and that desire- that pull that you can’t ever deny- will always bind you to him.

You can’t help yourself from rutting against his palm, and he presses himself further into your back, allowing you to feel the hard outline of his cock against your ass. The hand that isn’t between your legs rests on your arm, and when he tries to hold your hand, you don’t deny him. There’s just too much fabric for you to hold in just one hand and some of it drapes over his forearm, but you manage to keep most of it from obscuring his movements. It’s a strange angle, and both of you are fumbling to make it work, but you crane your neck in search of him, and he answers your call with an eager kiss. Your tongue caresses his, savoring the feeling and committing it to memory, just in case-

He swallows your surprised gasp when he nudges your panties aside and begins to circle your clit. With just a bit of pressure, a crease forms where your eyebrows pull together, and you untangle your hand from his hold to brace yourself against the counter. It’s been a while since someone else has touched you, and it’s been even longer since the last time Dick had, but it’s so much better than evocations of pleasure. You swear figments are tangible. Spurred on by the reaction his touch has coaxed from you, he’s torn between making the moment last as long as possible or picking up the pace. He settles on the latter, considering that if this is heading the way he hopes it’s heading, he’ll have all the time in the world to make it up to you, but right now, he’s on borrowed time. You both are. With the reminder looming overhead, he adjusts his hand so that he can continue to work your clit while lining up a finger with your pussy. You’re so wet, and warm when he curls his middle finger inside, and he can’t remember why he ever left in the first place. What persuaded him away from Gotham when you were always right here? Would you have waited for him? Would you have followed him if he asked you to? He supposes none of that matters now, but he can’t help but wonder…

He adds a second finger, and even though your body gives little resistance to the intrusion, you groan at the feeling. His fingers are so long, reaching that spot inside of you that your fingers are just too short to reach, and they’re thick enough for you to feel yourself stretching around him with each thrust- not enough to cause pain, but an ache that serves as a reminder that it’s been too long since the last time you’ve had him like this. You vow not to let another ten years pass before you let him have you, again.

He continues a steady pace, curling his fingers in such a way that sweat begins to glisten across your chest, and when a third finger threatens to join his others, you wrap your hand around his wrist- abruptly halting his movements.

“N-not enough time,” He doesn’t even get the chance to ask before you supply him with an answer, but he nods in understanding once you offer an explanation. He’s already reaching for his belt, unbuckling the clasp and roughly shoving his slacks down before you have a chance to catch your breath, and you’re grateful- if the speed in which he undresses is any indication of his own eagerness- that he’s just as desperate for you, as you are for him. Taking a moment to adjust your skirts so that you don’t have to hold them, you bunch them above your hips and lean forward, resting your forearms against the counter while Dick frees himself from his boxers, and when you look back in the mirror and catch sight of his cock behind you, you can’t help but swallow thickly.

He strokes himself a few times, smearing the pre-cum beading from his slit down his shaft as he prepares to take you. This doesn’t feel like last time. As he reaches for your waist and lines himself up with your cunt, this doesn’t feel like last time at all. This is new, and different and everything he’s wanted ever since the last time he had you in his grasp. This time, he won’t let you get away. With as much self-restraint as he can manage, you feel the tip of his cock against your opening, slowly splitting you open, and your back arches. Your own strangled cry prompts a groan from him he sinks into you, inch by inch until his hips are flush against you. You’re so full that you’re not sure if it’s too much or not enough.

“I’ve got you,” Dick assures, his grip on your hip tightening when he feels you struggling to accommodate him. He tries to be a gentleman. He tries to give you a few minutes to adjust- even though he wants nothing more than to take what’s right under his nose, what’s always been his- but his restraint snaps when he feels you begin to rock back against him.

“Move,” You command, and he doesn’t have to be told twice. With your permission, he’s happy to follow orders and obliges with a sharp thrust upwards. The sound you make is a mix between a sob and a moan, and his fingers flex against your hip as he repeats the action.

“I forgot…” Through clenched teeth, he confesses, and you don’t think anything of the admission, too lost within your own feelings to attempt to decipher his. Instead, he wraps an arm around your waist, offering thick muscle to serve as a buffer between your body and the stone he has you pressed up against- relying on intimate gestures to make up for words lost in translation. Even now, when you’re not on the same page, you still know. Somehow, you know, and he does, too. Every time. Without fail. Always. Your head rolls back to meet his shoulder, and your fingertips claw at the back of his neck awkwardly, with transparent desperation to pull him closer. Within reach isn’t close enough. Near is too far. With a muted gasp, you push back to meet his next thrust, and he hisses softly before elaborating, “I’m so sorry if I made you forget.”

“Dick-“ Realization begins to splinter the mirage of bliss, and you manage to say his name with enough caution to serve as a warning. You don’t want to think about the past. Not right now. Not when you can see your future so clearly in the foggy reflection of the vanity. He wraps his hand around your neck, encouraging you to bare your throat to him and he licks at the vein that calls out to him.

“I won’t let you forget, not this time.” He vows, bucking his hips faster and faster as you whine in his hold. In some sick twisted way, he loves that he’s the only one who has this power over you- that he’s the only one who could ever elicit such a reaction- and it’s a testament to how much the two of you care for one another; the influence both of you have over one another. “This time, I want to remember.”

It’s going to be impossible not to.

“I-“ He can barely get a word out with how good you feel around him, and he takes a breath before trying again. “I know you want to pretend, but fuck…I can’t.” Dick wraps his arm around you, guiding your back to rest against his chest, and one of his large hands splays across your stomach, where he can feel himself inside of you. “I really did miss you,” Somehow he manages to find his voice. “Not just like this, either,”

“I-I missed you, too.” You don’t seem certain, not with the way you stutter, but your reply is genuine. It only appears dubious because Dick’s palm begins to press against you, and you all but choke on your confession. He can’t help himself, but neither can you.

“I’m close,” He rasps, brokenly. “Shit,” His thrusts begin to falter, and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Are you-“

“Yes!” You yelp when his fingers start circling your clit, and he doesn’t relent, even when he feels you start to tremble beneath him. You’re overwhelmed by him, in the best way possible, and as eager as you are to chance your release, a part of you never wants this moment to end. “Dick, please d-don’t stop,” Your muscles grow taut, and when his thrusts lose their precision, you know that he’s almost there. “Just like before,” You encourage him, clenching hard when he bites your shoulder and your orgasm washes over you. “J-just like before.”

He knows what you’re asking for. He understands what you’re practically begging for, and in a fleeting moment of clarity, he catches a glimpse of the faded scar on your arm- his only regret being the fact that an implant still stands in the way of what he truly wants with you- but the thought disappears as quickly as it materializes.

A few seconds more and he grunts against your neck, pulling your hips to meet his and spilling himself inside of you. It’s even better than you remember and your body shakes with aftershocks of pleasure. Luckily, he’s there to keep you upright. Your vision starts to blur and the only sound you’re able to make out is both of you struggling to catch your breaths. With a heavy sigh, he pulls out, and you can feel his cum start to leak from you, but you’re too disoriented to clean it up. Instead, you lean forward, relying on the countertop for support as you hang your head and try to come back to your senses.

Dick leaves a trail of soft kisses down the back of your neck and his forehead is both warm and damp when it meets your shoulder, resting comfortably against your skin while he takes a minute to catch his breath, and these sensations- these tiny little reminders that he’s here, this moment is present and real- ground you. Where your mind is a mess, reeling with indecision, emotions, and thoughts you can’t yet process, your body is at ease.

As your eyes flutter shut, greedy gulps of air fail to satisfy your lungs, and you swallow thickly, allowing pressure to build up in your chest until you simply can’t take it anymore. Darkness saturates all that you can see, and you’re caught in a void- trapped, without any light to guide you back home. The gentle caress of his touch along your arm brands you, flush enough to make you burn with reminders of this fleeting moment- when embers of devotion inevitably fade into ashes- and you stiffen in his hold, not that he’s coherent enough to notice.

He seems to be in his little world as he tucks himself back into his pants and presses another gentle kiss to your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you. Violent delights really do have violent ends and it’s not fair that you let it get this far without thinking about the consequences of your actions. None of this would’ve happened if you just let yourself love him- without fear, without judgment, without regret- and if you had just been honest with yourself all those years ago, this mess would’ve never spiraled so far out of your control.

Whatever repercussion await you, you’ll brave. Regardless of what happens next, you know that you have to tell him the truth- even if it kills you. The thought is often more daunting than the action itself, but as you turn yourself around in his arms so that you’re facing him, you’re petrified.

“I’m sorry,” The magnitude of your apology isn’t supported by the handful of letters that arrange themselves as they slip past your tongue. There has to be a better way to express your remorse, but if one exists it evades you. Over and over again, the same words come to mind and it’s not fair that you know exactly what you want to say, but you just can’t find the right words to absolve your shame. At your inability to voice your regret, frustration overwhelms you. Your lips part, ready to divulge your sins, but only a pathetic, meek sigh comes out. Why is this so difficult? You know the answer, and yet, you play the part of the fool- leaning on ignorance as a crutch for what you can’t bring yourself to brave. He deserves it, doesn’t he? The truth- not something partial, but whole. Transparency is the only piece left of a nearly complete puzzle, the only thing keeping this tragic tale of two lovers who break each other’s hearts only to stitch them back together again from reaching its inevitably doomed end. When your lip begins to tremble, Dick reaches for you, pulling you into his chest and embracing you in a hold that’s absolutely suffocating. You don’t deserve his kindness. You don’t deserve his love or affection- his tenderness or his forgiveness.

You don’t deserve him.

“Me too,” He sighs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head before resting his head on top of yours. You can hear his heart- how steady it beats- and the sound rivals the racing of your own where it threatens to burst straight from your chest, and your eyes flutter shut, savoring the gentle lull of his own serenity before you poison his relief with your own disruption. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how difficult it may be, you know that you have to tell him. With a breath, you prepare for carnage.

“No, Dick, I-“

“Dick? Are you in here?” Barbara’s voice seeps through the wooden barrier that separates the two of you from the rest of the world- from reality- and as soon as she calls out to him, the illusion of tranquility is broken. Of course, it’s her. Of course, she’d be the one to interrupt you before you had the chance to speak, and of course, it would be her that drives a wedge further between the two of you with one simple revelation, “They’re getting away!”

It’s almost impossible to miss the sounds of commotion that follow her declaration. Faint screams and chaos replace the background of symphony strings and he turns to you then, a divot dividing the smooth skin of his forehead while his eyes narrow. Blue is black. Dark, and unmistakable. The muscle in his jaw looks like it’s about to burst with the severity of his clenching and his nostrils flare with a shallow exhale. It’s excruciating to watch him slip back into consciousness after being caught up in a dream, but a nightmare unfolds before you, twisting your stomach into knots so intricate they threaten to snap. You can’t breathe, and when you gather enough courage to finally take a step forward, he takes a step back. He’s never looked at you with so much hostility before, and you open your mouth to explain, to shower him with honesty and desperate pleas to make him understand that this wasn’t meant to happen like this, but no sound comes out. Not even a sigh. Not even a huff. Not even a pathetic, broken whimper. Nothing.

Unfortunately, Dick’s left to draw his own conclusions- to fill in the gaps in which your silence fails to atone for your crimes- and he paints a picture so drastically different from the truth, relying on his interpretation to establish a story so vivid he believes it to be real- even if it’s a figment of his own imagination, a product of his own devastation. Dispelled doubts come rushing back, and he allows them to influence the narrative- since you still can’t seem to find your voice- and everything left unsaid becomes louder in the silence. He mistakes your tears for guilt, instead of recognizing the regret and shame that mingle with saltwater. As gutted as he is, he looks to you for an explanation, but you can’t bring yourself to justify what you’ve done- even if it wasn’t your intention. Distracting him was part of the plan. Keeping him occupied was your mission, but confessing your true feelings and allowing yourself to fall back in love with him- not just the idea of what it would be like to love him- wasn’t part of your job description.

The second your paths crossed again, you were done for. It was never about seeking vengeance or getting even for the hurt that he caused you, because the minute that Dick waltzed back into your life, you knew you were doomed- because he makes you reckless. He makes you sloppy and distracted and forgiving. He makes you weak- and you let him. Every single time. Always and forever. Infinitely.

When he looks at you, he looks past you and towards your belongings on the counter. No. You shake your head, vehemently encouraging him to look away. If his eyes would just meet yours, if only for a second, you know you could save this. If not for the sake of putting broken pieces back together you could at least salvage fragments amongst the wreckage, but he doesn’t spare you a glance. No, no, no. His attention is solely on the expensive stone behind you, and when you reach out for him, your fingertips shaking as you grasp his bicep with all of the strength you can muster, he shakes you off of him.

Everything splinters.

When he reaches for your earring, you know that this is the end. It’s all over. A new moment will erase everything you thought you knew about pain, heartbreak, suffering, and betrayal. This moment, as it unfolds before you, will plague you until you meet your demise, because the second that he dares to bring the jewel up to his own ear, the exact moment that he hears Selina’s command through the gravely static of the earpiece you discarded earlier in the evening, you know that any hope for a future together vanishes- ripped straight from your fingers before you even had the chance to hold onto it and guard it with your life.

Even with his back towards you, you can see his face harden in the reflection of the mirror. Through the thin material of his crumbled dress shirt his shoulders tense and when he finally looks up to meet your stare through the glass, all traces of red, green, and yellow are gone. A piece of him- the piece of him that you’re most familiar with- dies, sprawled out and oozing across the marble. It’s too late to try to revive him. All that’s left in the wake of his slaughter is blue and black.

Blue and black, forevermore.

There’s nothing left for either of you here. Not anymore. Hope begins to decay, and the hollow hole in your chest that only he could ever fill begins to die from rot. Nothing will ever be the same. Not after this. Perhaps the final thought passed back and forth between a glare is the last thing you’ll ever share- beyond moments of destruction and beautiful chaos- but it’s clear to you both, that not all ghosts are meant to be resurrected.

Some ghosts should just stay ghosts.

a/n: hey, I’m raen and I’m down bad for this man lol…anyway, I’ve been working on this story for months. I literally poured bits and pieces of my soul into this (so if you wouldn’t mind interacting or providing feedback I’d be forever grateful) but I just wanted to write a tale of doomed lovers who care about each other in such a way that it leads to their downfall. I wanted this to hurt, and I hope it did- in the best way possible! I’m not above begging, so please, please, please feel free to send some feedback- as this is my first time writing for Dick and I would love to hear what people think! that being said, requests are also open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

everyone who requested to be tagged: @js-favnanadoongi @kalulakunundrum @1lellykins @octodog17 @novelizt @nesta-houseofwindfantasy @corgiqween576 @whiteglovemanor @godcreatoreli @lassmich1 @consternat1on @deffnotnia @haloney @iananiko @noodlesketchbook @thescarletcryptid @obsessedwthdilfs @vanice-e @taintedmaroon @holybatflapexpert @whatismypurpos @heylookwhoitis @corpseflower6 @heavenlym0chi @lokiwannacry @boywondergrayson @tetzoro @oiztsy @naf3211

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sanguineterrain · 1 year ago

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sunset anew | dick grayson

Summary: You're a little nervous to become the Mrs. Grayson. Luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: wedding, anxious reader, the batfam actually gets along, fluff!! (dick is my wife.)

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

Contrary to popular belief, Gotham isn't a complete eyesore.

Sure, it's no vacation spot, and it's probably not the ideal place to settle down. But there are beautiful parts within the grunge.

Your wedding planner had shown you multiple locations, from Napa to the Bahamas. Bruce had insisted cost was no problem.

But that wasn't what made you choose Gotham.

Your forearms rest on the polished stone-top railing that surrounds the rooftop of the nicest hotel in the city. Thirty-two floors, all rented out for you.

You look down at the tiny cars and people below. Your heart swoops.

Your heels are in one hand. The sun crests the horizon; soon, yellow will melt into buttery orange and pink. It’s the first sunset you knew. The only sunset you know. And it’s the same one you saw the first time you met your almost-husband.

You'd come up here so you wouldn't miss it. Just this one time.

“Found her!”

You jump as the roof access door opens. Damian and Duke walk out. Duke gives you a warm smile.

"Jesus, you guys," you say, hand on your chest. “Way to scare a girl.”

“Sorry. You look really nice,” Duke says, smoothing his bowtie.

Damian crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed.

“Frightening you is the least of our concerns. We thought you’d run. Which would be understandable, considering the family you’re marrying into, but Father spent a lot renting the hotel. Plus, Grayson would’ve been inconsolable, and extremely annoying.”

“Dude,” Duke says, elbowing Damian. “Chill out. It’s not like she was actually going to leave him at the altar.” He squints at you. “Were you?”

“No! I wasn’t going to leave him at the altar, oh my God.”

Damian nods. “Good." He taps his watch and speaks into it. "Grayson, our work is done. Come to the roof.”

Duke gives you a wave and they wordlessly leave the way they came. You sigh and start to slip your heels back on. There’s some whispering at the bottom of the stairs, and Damian shouts “no!” before it’s silent.

You have one heel on when Dick emerges.

He’s unfairly handsome in his tux, hair somehow both neat and tousled. He also has what looks to be Damian’s tie wrapped around his eyes. You step out of your heel, unsure.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you."

"It’s okay, baby. Why are you blindfolded?"

"Bad luck to see the bride, duh."

You can't help your idiotic grin at that. "I think it'll be fine, Gray. You didn’t have to take his tie.”

"Maybe you haven't met my family; we're not known for our good luck streaks.”

"I'm madly in love with you,” you say, feeling gooey.

Dick beams, and you nearly forget about the sunset altogether.

"I'm madly in love with you too."

You kiss him and he blindly returns it, following your lips even after you step back. You cluck your tongue and nudge him away. He obeys, though not without sliding his hand onto your waist and tugging you away from the roof. You follow because he's such a worrier.

Dick reaches for your hand and squeezes.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. Sorry I disappeared. I didn’t know the calvary would be sent after me.”

“Yeah, uh…” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Again. I got worried.”

The guilt sinks its claws deeper. You frown and touch his cheek.

“I would never leave you at the altar, Dick.”

“I know! I know that. They’re idiots; don’t listen to ‘em, whatever they said."

You cup his face with both hands and kiss him again. He squeezes your wrists and you can feel the relief rolling off him in waves, as much as he tries to hide it.

“Was my absence noticeable?” you ask.

"Just to us. Don’t worry about it. The Wayne family are professional crowd entertainers."

"I take it Bruce is doing card tricks?"

"Yep,” Dick says. “He’s pretty good too. Might retire the suit."

You laugh. "Sorry I'm missing it."

"Trust me, you'll get your fill soon."

“We can go down now,” you offer, even though you’re still waiting for that sunset.

He shakes his head. “There’s no rush.”

You smile and rest your head on Dick's shoulder. He accepts you instantly and wraps his arm around your waist.

"You feel really beautiful," he says.

"Charmer."

"I'm serious!"

"I know. That's why I'm so damn sweet on you, Gray."

"I've got a shot with you, then?" he asks.

"Oh, big time."

He nuzzles your neck. You breathe in his scent: wine from earlier, detergent, the hair gel he uses to effortlessly capture the bed head look.

"We didn't have to do this today, you know,” he says, voice vibrating through you.

You pick your head up in alarm.

"What're you talking about?"

"If-if you're getting cold feet, I mean," he adds. "Second thoughts. We can always reschedule."

"Dick, no, I'm not getting second thoughts. I want to marry you today. I will marry you, okay? We've been together for almost four years."

"So? You know how long Batman and Catwoman have been skirting around each other? We've all got a wager going. Including Alfred!"

You snort. "Okay, well, excuse me if I don't want your family to bet on how long it's going to take us to marry."

"Afraid that ship's sailed."

"Of course it has."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. His arms drape over your hips. You trace the shape of his lips with your index, up his Cupid's bow and up the tip of his nose. Dick has such a lovely nose. You've always thought so.

“So who bet that I’d actually made a run for it?”

“That feels like a trick question,” he says.

“Jason?"

“Jason adores you, actually. He didn’t doubt your loyalty once.”

“Damian had his doubts."

“Damian's thirteen, he doesn’t know shit.”

You snort and kiss his cheek. “Well, I forgive him. He was protecting you, that’s all.”

"If it helps, everyone else was certain of your loyalty," Dick says, letting you paw at his face. “Myself included.”

"That does help, actually.”

Dick stops your hand in its journey and rests your palm on his cheek.

"What were you thinking about?" he asks quietly.

You stiffen a little. "Nothing. Just needed some air."

"You sure?"

You know what he's doing: feeling your pulse to see if it changes, listening to your breathing, watching if your shoulders tense. He's a detective first, and a damn good one.

You slump in defeat.

"What if I'm not… good at this? At being… us?”

"What?" Dick asks in disbelief. "What are you talking about? Of course you’ll be good at it. The real worry is me, babe. I mean, you're incredible. I'm the one who runs around in spandex at night."

"Gray, I'm serious," you say, resting your head on his heart. "All those people who’ve been watching us, waiting for the future Mrs. Grayson to slip up. I just—I can't help but wonder if it's prophetic. I wonder if maybe you deserve more."

"Hey. Now I can't predict the future. But even if I could, I don't believe there is a timeline out there where I could ever want or need anyone but you. And you're not alone in this, you know? I'm scared too. I'm terrified I'm putting you in danger. Of fucking up completely. But I also know that sometimes… we get good things, you know? It's not all doom and gloom. I mean, you being in my life is proof of that."

God, he always knows how to make your heart ache just right.

"I really want us to work," you whisper, clutching his suit coat. "I just don't wanna let you down, Gray."

"Baby," Dick says, curling around you. "Sweetheart, where did this come from? What makes you think that? You've never let me down, not once. I love you. It's okay if you feel like you don't know what you're doing, 'cause I don't know either."

You reach to untie the tie. Dick lightly grabs your hand, but you continue to tug anyway.

"Wait, babe—"

"Dick, it's okay. I want to see your eyes. Please?"

He lets you pull it off. He squints at the light, adjusting. Then his gaze drops to you and his lips part.

"Wow," Dick says, hands sliding up your arms.

You smile. "Like it? Selina helped me pick the dress, so it's all thanks to her."

"Fuck, baby. I wanna marry you right now. Screw everyone down there. Let's elope."

You laugh, combing back his hair with your fingertips and tucking loose strands behind his ears.

"Gray, you know we can't do that. What about Bruce? He'd be devastated and more than rightfully pissed."

He shrugs. "So what? I'm the favorite, I can get away with it."

"Well, what about Alfred? You'd break his heart."

Dick pauses, mulling that over. You kiss his chin.

"Damn it," he says. "You're right. I couldn't do that to him. He's arguably more excited about our wedding than we are."

"Mmhm. But I appreciate your attempt to be spontaneously romantic," you say, smiling.

Dick tugs you closer still, rubbing your back.

"I would elope," he says. "If you really wanted to. You could convince me to do just about anything. Even if it unleashed Alfie's wrath."

"Don't tell me that," you chide playfully. "You'll give a girl all sorts of notions."

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Dick starts to kiss up your neck and you happily let him, eyes slipping closed. It's good, until—

THUMP!

You jump. Dick immediately pushes you behind him.

The roof access door swings out so hard it slams against the wall. Jason glares, bowtie already loosened.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're gonna miss your own wedding, dumbass!" He nods at you. "Hey, future sis. Looking good."

"Thanks, Todd."

"Mm. Everything okay?"

You smile. "Everything's wonderful."

"Yeah, I'm okay too, thanks," Dick says, scowling.

"I know you're fine, idiot. Now come put a ring on it before Alfred hunts you down himself."

Jason turns on his heel, shaking his head. "Responsible one, my ass…"

You look at Dick, grinning.

"Seems like we should go do the marriage thing," you say.

"Seems like." He squeezes your hip. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah, Gray. I do. Thanks. I love you."

"Love you too, baby. Let's go marry the hell out of each other."

The sunset has morphed into a violet night. But you don't mind that you missed it; you know there will be countless sunsets to come.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson imagine #batman fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing fanfiction

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messenger-of-babel · 2 months ago

Text

Dillon and Kitty

Summary: You take Dick home to the farm for a breath of fresh air. It's perfect, but there's something weighing on his mind. (Dick Grayson x fem! reader)

Word Count: 3.5K

Notes: A little self indulgent, I'm homesick and got hooked listening to country again so this popped out. I loved writing country reader (but that might be the self indulgence hehe) I might make some others in the same theme. Reader wears a dress and is alluded as female, no other warnings tonight.~ Second to last post of this challenge, I didn't think I'd even get this far. Thank you for your support so far. 🥺🥺

Also for anyone wondering- the title is a reference from Gunsmoke, an old western. I got reminded of it while listening to Toby Keith and in the show Dillon and Ms. Kitty have this 'will-they-won't-they' relationship that tugged at my heart so I put a bit of that ache in there too. 🫣🫣

Enjoy Sweethearts~! xx

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You loved being out of the city. You loved being back in the sky for once, and the fact that you could walk away to a quiet spot in your house and not be bombarded with the sounds of cars and arguments on the city streets. You'd gladly trade your heels for a pair of work boots if you could, give your father another pair of hands on the farm. You could take your coffee under the big oak tree by the back porch that had seen you and your siblings break bones and scrape skin, instead of the cramped fire escape that was covered in rain more often than not.

You might have only gone back for a small holiday, but you couldn’t help the thoughts that wondered just 'what if' you did come back. You know that your mother would fuss over it happily, and your father would grumble but not protest. They had sent you away to have a better chance at life, so that you could go wherever your dream wanted to take you. You weren't sure how dream like Gotham could be, with its bleak skies, crime, and constant bustle. Your friends who still lived out by here laughed at you, but you knew that if you had never left, you never would have made your dream come true.

More accurately, you would have never met the man of your dreams, Dick Grayson.

You had both run into each other at a charity event, something you had gotten to attend through your degree in place of your professor. You felt out of place in the ballroom, filled with the rich and elite. You were no stranger to the upturned noses and lingering stares of city folk when you came in to shop with no time to change, still in your work clothes and with dust covered skin. However, being regarded like you were tracking mud across the polished floors when you were in your finest, was new. You knew these events were a big deal, everyone trying to get a ticket to the famous Bruce Wayne's extravagant gala, to taste the high life for a night.

You would be lying if you said that you hadn't been interested in the concept, the high-class events that seemed to be something out of a fairytale. No one would’ve blamed you for wanting to look inside, except the other party guests it seemed. You weren't dressed in anything racy, renting out a modest dress that matched the jewellery you had. Your roommate had done your makeup for you, and you did your hair yourself. You knew that you cleaned up nice, but it appeared that the country air clung to you still.

Socialising had become a nightmare, with people hesitant to even talk to you. The ones that did wavered in confidence when you said that you were still a student, your professors name doing little to ease their worries. You had no family name to shield you, no massive corporation at your back. You quickly realised that they weren't talking to you, because you couldn't do something for them. Even though you had no intent on working with rich assholes like them, the feeling of being useless quickly crept into the back of your mind. So much so, that you were stuck in that thought until you roughly collided with someone, and felt the barely sipped glass of champagne you cradled spill all the way down the front of your dress.

"I'm so sorry," are the first words that come out of your mouth, hands flying to the other person. You look up, hearing a soft chuckle and the blood drains from your face. Dick Grayson, the first adopted son of tonight’s host. He must recognise the panic on your face, because he laughs quietly and wraps a large palm around the crook of your elbow and pull you to the side. You expect to get scolded, but he takes you to a corner away from prying eyes and pulls out his pocket square.

"Here, use this." he says softly, smile on his lips. You take it after an apprehensive second, beginning to dry the fabric the best you can. "I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, that's completely on me." he says, eyes crinkling with worry. You shake your head in protest, swallowing hard.

"No, no, I wasn't either. Did I get your suit?"

He holds his hands up, "No, no, you're fine. Didn't get a drop on me." he smiles. "So don't worry." his eyes flit back down to the stain creeping across your front. He winces studying the wet patch. "Can I replace the dress for you?" he offers. "Get you a new one as an apology."

You shake your head violently, mind racing. He said is so casually, as if it was loose change to him.

"Oh, no. This isn't even my dress, it's a rental." you wave him off. "I'll just get it dry cleaned, and if that doesn't work, I'll just pay the fee. It's nothing for you to worry about."

His head tilts slightly to the side, strands of ebony hair tickling his forehead.

"You don't own the dress?" he asks, and your shoulders slump. You nod, expecting him to turn up his nose. The wealth in this single room made your head spin, and you watched his face. he was going to shrug you off and take his pocket square back, re-emerge into the sea of glittering people with silk lined pockets.

"It looks like it was made for you."

That makes your eyes widen and your cheeks burn with heat. He lets a pearly grin slip forward, making little lights dance in his eyes mischievously.

"Thank you." you stutter out, hands smoothing down the fabric.

"At least give me your details," he persists. "I'll pay for the dry cleaner and the fee if it comes to that. It was my fault, don't worry."

You smile hesitantly, mind wandering. Was he going to hold this over your head? Make you pay him back with favours that cost you more than you could afford?

"But I do have a favour to ask."

There it was.

He must have sensed the tension in your shoulders and the flicker of fear that ran across your face, because he raised his hands and softened his expression. "Feel free to say no of course."

You make your mouth move, tone hesitant. "What is it?"

"You wear it on our first date."

Your jaw drops open a little wider in shock, and a shit eating grin spreads across his face. You give a single, stunned nod and he beams wider. "Excellent. I'll be in touch. I'd stay longer, but Bruce will be insufferable if I disappear and make him handle all those vultures alone. I hope you can understand." he sends you a sympathetic and sheepish gaze, keeping eye contact with you as he drifts away into the crowd.

Two days later when you went to pick up the dress from the drycleaners, it was gone. You had panicked, calling the store to apologise, but oddly enough they couldn't find the dress in their system anymore. Tired from a long day of chasing, you found a tied package at your apartment door. Unwrapping the paper on your bed, you couldn't help but smile pulling out the dress you wore to the gala, freshly cleaned. Alongside it was a navy jewellery box, carrying a matching necklace. The piece of paper inside was written in a hastily scrawled handwriting, messier than you'd have expected from his pedigree.

I told you the dress was made for you. Call me to make plans.

-Dick

That had started the beginning of your relationship with the man who cheered you on relentlessly while you chased your dream. You called home so often that your mother had fallen in love with him too without even meeting him, while your father grew continually irritated with the way Dick's name became a household one without ever setting foot on the property. So, after a year of dating and having gone to meet his family multiple times (where upon meeting Bruce, you could tell where Dick had adopted many of his mannerisms) he was finally coming to see the place where you had grown up.

The second your car had rolled through the gates and hit park; your younger siblings were running towards you at full pelt. Correction, Lacey, your pocket rocket ten-year-old sister threw herself at Dick for a hug, while your quieter teen brother, Marcus watched from the porch.

"Are you Dickie?" Lacey had all but shouted at him, making him look at you. You stifled giggles behind your hand as he looked down at her, gently pulling her off before crouching. "You must be Lacey?" he asked with the soft smile he reserved for kids. She giggled and grinned at you, beaming.

"He knows my name!" she squeals, before giving you a big hug herself.

You laugh and send her back to your brother who was keeping his distance, sending a shrug to Dick as you go to unload the car. You can hear the fly screen rattle and the voices of your parents, signalling the start of a very active dinner. "Welcome, city boy." you smirk at him, leaning over to give him a peck on the lips. He pulls you close and kisses you back, hand cradling your neck before he parts.

"Good to be here." he smiles.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

The week had flown by and he had settled in well, while your body fell back into your old routine like clockwork. Your father had been sceptical of Dick at the beginning, but Dick had proven himself rather quickly, offering to help out. He wasn't afraid to get dirty, he didn't tear up or complain when he got a scrape or a bruise. Often times it was your mother that would fuss over him when he came into the kitchen sporting a new bump or injury, and he'd look down with surprise like he hadn’t even felt it. He was good with Lacey and even quiet Marcus warmed up to him, spending his afternoons in the stables with Dick showing him how to care for the horses. The horses were the animals Marcus had loved ever since he was a child, and when Marcus let Dick saddle up one of his to take a small ride around the paddock, you knew he was part of your family now.

You couldn’t deny that he looked good in work gear, it was like a weight was off his shoulders. His eyes seemed clearer; soul less burdened. It was only when he came out to meet your family that you realised he his lips naturally curved downwards in Gotham, his eyes blue as the sky but lost in someplace further than the horizon he stared out at. He looked good in denim and with reigns in his hand, gentle with the horse as he caught your gaze and steered her over to you. He was in a spare pair of work boots your quickly growing brother no longer fit, and a sweat broken work hat on his head. You had to stop the tingle in your hand and cheeks catching sight of him like that. When he looked at you, you finally felt like his eyes were looking at you.

"Hey, handsome." you call, pushing off from the paddock fence. "I see you've made a good impression on Marcus."

He grins down at you, dismounting swiftly like he had been riding all his life. "He's a good kid." he smiles, and you kiss his cheek.

"Come on, dinner's almost ready." you say sweetly before turning to your younger brother, still on his horse. "And that goes for you too, mister!" you holler, making Marcus flip you off in the distance.

"Teens." you grumble, making Dick laugh as you head to the stables.

You help Dick unsaddle, making sure the tack is put away properly. You look over at him, frowning softly as you see the expression on his face. It's the same shadow he wears in Gotham, the weight of something invisible constantly pressing down on him. "Hey, you okay?" you call with a kind smile, making him look up quickly. You don't see the phone in his hand that he slips back into his pocket, only the tight grin he sends back to you.

"Yeah, fine."

You walk back to the house in silence, and your mother already has dinner waiting for you. Everyone proceeds as usual, but you can't help looking at Dick seated across from you, with a soft frown on your face. He seems out of it, and when he meets your eyes it's guilty. The tension is thankfully not felt by other members of your family, allowing you to follow him when he slips out.

You find him in your childhood bedroom, where you've both been sleeping. "Hey, you okay?" you ask, leaning against the doorframe. he has his back to you, fiddling with something in his pocket. What he says next steals the breath from your lungs.

"I can't do this."

It's like the rug has fallen out from beneath your feet you and you straighten yourself quickly, closing the door behind you so no one can hear your conversation. "Dick?" you ask, softly, heart racing. "What do you mean?"

He sighs and turns to you, eyes normally so bright now swirling with emotion. "I think...I think we should break up." he says, voice barely pushing the words out.

"You don’t mean that." you shake your head, hand coming to your temple. This has to be a dream. Or a nightmare. "Why? what's wrong?"

"I just...I have something I need to do back in Gotham. I can't...I can't give you the life you want. I don't think we'll work out." he sends you an apologetic smile like your eyes aren't filling with tears, lip wobbling.

"What made you think that?" you ask, trying to hold it together. To not let your emotions control you and push him further away. "Was it...Was it my family? This life?"

"No, no, nothing like that." he says hurriedly. "I just think, god-" he runs a hand through his hair, sucking his teeth. "I just don't think we're compatible."

"And it took you until meeting my family for you to say that, huh?" you say, arms crossed and unable to hide the hurt tone. He winces, wringing his hands.

"I have to go." he says softly.

"Why?" you demand again, voice raising. "God damn it, Grayson, you can't just tell me you want to break up suddenly. That's not fair. Tell me. Tell me if it's something I did. You've been distracted on your phone, just tell me if it's work or another woman-" you cut yourself off when you see him grimace and your breath stops in your throat. You hadn’t been serious when you said that. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

He raises his hands in defence, making you scoff. "Please, listen." he pleads, making your blood rush to your head.

"You've actually been talking to another woman? Are you kidding-"

"It's just Babs, I swear-"

"Barbara Gordon?" your voice shrilly rings at the mentions of his ex. "Oh yes, because texting your ex-girlfriend makes me feel so much better." you spit, holding your hand out. "Be honest for once. S how me." You seethe, and after a hesitant moment he unlocks his phone and places it in your hand with a defeated sigh. You swipe to his messages, heart shattering as you read her contact’s name still with an orange heart beside it.

"There's something I need help with. You need to come home."

You hate reading how readily he replied, running back to his ex the second that she says she needed him. the way she called him home, like he hadn't been with you so naturally you even had the audacity to think that maybe he could find a life here too. A home. Somewhere peaceful, away from the hustle and bustle and having to constantly be on his guard. To be able to steal kisses under the shine of the stars instead of the invasive flash of the paparazzi.

He takes the phone from you, unable to meet your eyes. Dick doesn't feel like he deserves to.

His heart breaks as he walks past you, shoving his things back into the bag he packed. He can feel the hurt radiating off you, making his own heart break. He wants to tell you that he hasn't been talking to Barbara, not that way at least. That he did love you, with every part of him. He loved your family. He loved the gruffness of your dad and the way he'd check in on Dick periodically, grumbling about him being a city kid but still making sure he didn't get too banged up. He loved your mothers cooking and let Lacey play with his hair. He loved Marcus and his passion for his animals. He loved you.

He loved you in finery he bought you and he loved you with dust in your hair and callouses on your hands. He loved you in jewellery and he loved you in chaps, loved you in heels and the dirt caked work boots. That's what he told himself, but if he was breaking your heart this way, he wasn't sure if he was ever truly able to love you.

If he loved you as much as he fooled himself, he wouldn't be leaving with no explanation, wouldn't be breaking your heart at your parents’ house, your safe place. If he loved you, he would tell you that he was Nightwing, and he would never be able to come out to the countryside with you. That he had a duty in Gotham that had him risking his life every night.

He wished he could tell you who he was, and he yearned to. When he looked into those heartbroken eyes of yours, he wanted to take you into his arms and spill his heart out and kiss you stupid. He wanted to tell you everything, about him, his family, about Bruce. But he couldn't, his own lips freezing in fear. His throat bobs as he swallows harshly, looking down in guilt. "Alfred is bringing the car. He'll be here soon." he says softly.

The words he really wants to say is:

Please love me. Please don’t hate me. Please forgive me.

He grabs the last of his things and pushes past you before the burning to comfort you overtakes his logical mind. He knows he has to go back. Indulging himself in you and your sunlight was something that he couldn't afford. He couldn't afford you to get hurt, to get wrapped up in his world. It was a first for him dating a civilian, and he was terrified. That fear built up over in his mind, and he knew it. He knew he should give you a chance, but it was the safer option, the lesser of two evils. He could suffer the pain of losing you, or he could suffer the pain of you finding out who he was and hating him.

His heart shatters as he hears the sob of you, beginning to break down as he leaves.

He passes the faces of your family, curious but silent. He feels their eyes follow him, a brand of shame tracing him and his path out. The cold is biting, nipping at his skin but he doesn't feel it. All he can see in his mind's eye is you undoubtably being comforted by the worried hands of your mother, crying out in heartbreak and not even getting to know why.

By the time that Alfred arrives, he can see the silhouette of your family on the porch, Marcus and your father. He can hear your father yell at him as he gets into the car, but he can't make out the words as he shuts the door and Alfred begins to roll away. He slouches against the door, head in his hands. Alfred looks back, studying him.

"Did you tell her, sir?" Alfred asks softly, the older man's fingers tightening on the steering wheel. Dick had promised that he'd tell you, let you make your own decision before continuing to be involved with him. Alfred liked you and had reassured Dick countlessly that you would likely be nothing but accepting is he did reveal his secret identity. yet as he stares at the slumped man in the rearview mirror, a pang of disappointment shoots through his heart as he pieces together what's happened. Dick tries his best to stop the tears, but they prickly to the forefront anyway.

"No. But there's nothing left to tell her." Dick mumbles defeatedly, staring out the window with dull eyes.

but there was, three little points he never got out of his mouth.

I'm Nightwing.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

191 notes · View notes

your-local-simp-writers · 2 months ago

Text

Ghosts and S’mores

Word Count: 1743

Warnings: None

Dick Grayson x Fem! Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The pumpkin patch was a vibrant tapestry of fall colors, a lively spectacle filled with families and friends enjoying the crisp autumn air. As you and Dick wandered among the towering rows of pumpkins, laughter and chatter surrounded you, weaving a tapestry of joy that was infectious. The sweet scent of hay mingled with the spicy aroma of cinnamon from nearby stalls selling warm apple cider and baked goods. It was one of those perfect October afternoons that felt like a scene from a movie, and every moment felt imbued with magic.

Dick was clad in his favorite leather jacket, the one that seemed to radiate his effortless charm. His dark hair tousled in the gentle breeze, he flashed you a playful grin as he strolled beside you. “Look at this one!” he exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside a pumpkin that was surprisingly large and oddly shaped, with deep grooves and a slightly crooked stem. “This one’s perfect for carving! Just imagine the scariest jack-o’-lantern in Gotham with this bad boy!”

You laughed, shaking your head as you picked up a smaller pumpkin, perfectly round and smooth. “As much as I love your enthusiasm, I’m not sure Gotham is ready for a pumpkin that terrifying,” you teased, turning the smaller pumpkin in your hands, contemplating its carving potential. “I think we should aim for something a little more charming. You know, something that reflects our style.”

Dick stood up, brushing off his knees, and approached you, his mischievous glint unmistakable. “We should do matching costumes this year. How cute would that be?” he suggested, leaning in closer, the excitement in his voice palpable.

You raised an eyebrow, holding the pumpkin to your chest, feeling your heart warm at his enthusiasm. “Alright, Mr. Grayson, what are we dressing up as this year for Halloween?” you asked, a smile dancing on your lips.

Dick’s grin widened as he dropped his hands on his hips, striking a goofy pose. “How about this: I’ll be a graham cracker, and you’ll be a marshmallow! Together, we can be a s’more!” His laughter echoed in the air, infectious as he picked up a pumpkin and held it up to his face like a mask, the playful absurdity of the idea sending you into a fit of giggles.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, shaking your head in disbelief. “I love you, I swear I do, but there’s no way I’m dressing up as a marshmallow. I have my dignity to think about!” You teased, though your heart danced at the thought of being a couple in matching costumes.

“Oh, come on! Just think of the photo ops!” he insisted, doing a little twirl with the pumpkin as if it were a trophy. “Imagine it—two adorable treats, making everyone else jealous with our cuteness!”

Rolling your eyes but unable to suppress your smile, you responded, “Fine, fine! But we have to come up with something better than that. You’re the horror movie expert. What do you think?”

Dick glanced at the pumpkins around you, mock-serious as he crossed his arms. “How about you dress up as Sidney Prescott and I’ll be Ghostface? I can totally pull off the scary vibe!” he suggested, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “That’s actually a great idea! I could even carry around a fake knife to chase you with!” The thought of him running away from you, feigning terror, made you giggle even more.

He feigned a look of horror, eyes wide and hands up in mock surrender. “You wouldn’t actually stab me, right? I’m your boyfriend, not your victim!” he exclaimed, stepping back dramatically, making you laugh even harder.

“Just saying, it depends on how convincing you are in your role!” you replied, your playful banter making the atmosphere even more cheerful. The two of you continued to explore the patch, debating over which pumpkins would serve best for carving.

After a bit more wandering, you finally settled on a pumpkin, holding it up triumphantly. “What do you think? This one has the perfect balance of cute and spooky!” you announced, turning it slightly to show off its unique shape and texture, your excitement bubbling over.

Dick nodded appreciatively, his gaze softening as he looked at you, then at the pumpkin. “I think it’s perfect! But if we’re doing Ghostface and Sidney, we have to go all out. I can’t just wear a mask and call it a day.”

You grinned at his determination, leading the way to the checkout area with your chosen pumpkin in tow. “Agreed! We should definitely take the time to make our costumes look awesome. This is going to be the Halloween to remember!”

Once you paid for your pumpkin, Dick insisted on carrying it back to the car. “This baby is all mine! I’ll guard it with my life,” he joked, cradling the pumpkin like a precious trophy. As you made your way to the car, the sunlight bathed everything in a warm golden glow, and you couldn’t help but glance at him, feeling your heart swell.

Later that evening, you found yourselves in your cozy kitchen, the soft glow of fairy lights illuminating the space and creating an inviting ambiance. You spread newspapers across the table, lighting pumpkin spice candles that filled the air with a comforting scent, crafting an atmosphere perfect for a cozy night in. Dick set the pumpkin down with exaggerated care before turning to you with a playful gleam in his eye.

“Alright, I’ll get the carving tools!” he declared, bounding to the kitchen drawer. You watched him rummage through the utensils, his enthusiasm contagious. As he turned back with a small carving knife and a spoon, he struck a dramatic pose. “Prepare to be amazed by my pumpkin artistry!”

You leaned against the counter, watching him work, the way his brow furrowed in concentration making your heart flutter. “Just don’t mess it up too badly. We need to impress the other partygoers,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“Mess it up? Please!” he scoffed, pretending to be offended. “I’m the king of pumpkin carving! This pumpkin is going to be the talk of the party.”

You smiled, moving to your own pumpkin as he continued to sketch his design, a mix of horror and humor. The rhythmic sound of carving filled the kitchen, punctuated by laughter and playful jabs at each other's artistic choices. You shared stories about past Halloweens, recalling funny moments and childhood costumes, the atmosphere light and filled with joy.

“I remember one year, I tried to be a vampire but ended up looking like I had a bad case of toothpaste on my face,” you said, laughing as you recalled the memory. “My mom still has pictures of me, and it’s one of the most embarrassing things ever!”

Dick burst out laughing, putting down his carving knife to clutch his stomach. “That’s too good! I can’t wait to see that picture! I can totally picture you with a little cape and fangs that are too big for your mouth,” he teased, moving closer to get a better look at your pumpkin.

“Shut up! I was only eight! I thought I looked cool!” you retorted, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably. His laughter was infectious, and soon you found yourself laughing along.

“Okay, but let’s be honest. You were probably the cutest vampire ever,” he said, leaning in closer to inspect your work. “And I’m not sure what’s scarier: my pumpkin or the thought of you with a cape.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his compliment, a flutter in your stomach as he leaned in to examine your pumpkin closely. “Thanks! I’m going for spooky-cute, you know? The perfect balance,” you said, focusing on carving the jagged smile.

After a bit more back-and-forth, you both paused to admire each other’s work. Your pumpkin had turned out beautifully, the jagged smile and piercing eyes giving it a menacing yet charming look, while Dick’s creation was… well, unique, to say the least. It featured a goofy, lopsided grin that was more silly than scary, and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“I think yours might scare off all the trick-or-treaters!” you teased, pointing at his pumpkin. “It looks like it just got done running a marathon!”

Dick chuckled, feigning a pout as he crossed his arms. “Excuse me, but that’s exactly what I was going for! The ‘scary but adorable’ vibe.” He gestured grandly toward his pumpkin. “This little guy is going to steal the show!”

You shook your head, still grinning, but then your expression softened as you looked at him, your heart swelling with warmth. “Honestly, I love it. It’s so you—full of fun and unexpected charm.”

His gaze met yours, the playful energy shifting into something more intimate. “And I love you,” he said softly, moving a little closer, his expression sincere. “I love how you make everything more fun. You’re the one who keeps me grounded, even when I’m pretending to be a horror icon.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you leaned in closer, playfully nudging him with your shoulder. “Well, I’m glad to keep you on your toes. Just remember, I’m still the one chasing you down at the party!”

“Only if you promise to keep it PG-13,” he said with a laugh, leaning back against the kitchen counter, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’d like to leave some mystery for the next Halloween party, after all.”

With the room filled with laughter and love, you both settled into a rhythm, finishing up the carving and lighting candles to place inside the pumpkins. The flickering flames illuminated the room, casting playful shadows and filling the kitchen with the warm, cozy glow that made everything feel perfect.

You admired your handiwork, the warmth of the candles reflected in Dick’s eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I think we make a pretty great team, don’t you?”

He nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Definitely. Here’s to many more adventures and memories together. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

You both leaned in closer, sharing a gentle kiss, the world outside fading away as the glow of the pumpkins surrounded you in a cocoon of warmth and love. In that moment, everything felt perfect, the bond between you deepening as you embraced the spirit of Halloween together.

154 notes · View notes

spellwell · 11 days ago

Text

secrets - dick grayson

dick grayson x reader one shot

fluff; sfw

warnings; none. characters may be out of character, this is my first time writing for them and I haven’t seen young justice in a while. Not edited well lol

universe: young justice

summary; Dick likes you, and you like Dick, it’s obvious. The only people that don’t seem in on it, are the both of you, the rest of young justice seems to have a plan to fix that.

By this point, you and the group of now nearly young adults have gotten quite close, you could even say they are like family. Every member seems to have their own very special relationship with you that has grown over time and nothing has quite as much value as that. Your relationship with Dick how ever, is probably the closest connection you’ve ever had. From the very start you took to him, finding his humor and opinions fit just right with your own, and everyone else has seemed to notice that as well. M’gann has always pushed the idea of you and Dick being more than friends, which you’ve admitted liking the idea of. Alas, your nerves have created a large pool of anxiety to sit at the bottom of your stomach at the simple idea of conveying your feelings to him.

“He obviously likes you back, in love even!”

“You’re nervous for no reason, what if someone else comes along? Don’t you want to secure him?”

“If you don’t tell him me and Conner will!”

“Oh come on y/n, why don’t you believe me?! He totally wants you!”

You’ve heard it all really, her begs and pleads, trying to reason with you to just gain the courage and tell him. Little does she know, it isn’t that easy and over time she’s seemed to give up. You’re not sure why you have such a hard time believing he would feel the same way, Dick is just so special and the chance that he doesn’t feel that way can’t be taken.

Other than that, everyone is very open and honest with each other, maybe even too open some times. That’s why their behavior’s have been… odd the past few days. Whispering, huddling, and glances to the side have made you question if there’s something wrong, but when you’ve asked they all say everything is fine and not to worry. Little did you know, they had a plan to fix this on-going back and forth between you and Dick.

“I actually can’t stand you, quit winning!” Aqua-lads laughing could be heard over Wally’s moaning and groaning. “Maybe if you were better at this game, you’d win.” Mg’ann walks over to you with a sheepish grin, motioning with her head over to the boys arguing on the couch. “How many times have they played this game today?” She asks, causing you to sigh and shrug your shoulders. “Today, you mean in the last week? Kid’s never going to win.” You both laugh and walk over to the couch, standing behind it to watch the boys start their new match. You could care less about the game, but watching Wally squirm always makes you laugh.

Conner makes his way into the room after a while of watching them argue, after Wally of course loses again. “Won’t you go a little easier on me dude, seriously it’s not even fun any more!” Conner throws his arm around the Martian next to you, rolling his eyes at the childish behavior. “You still wouldn’t win, if it’s not fun anymore how could you keep playing it? I could hear you shrieking from my room.” Wally whips around and shoots Conner a deadly look, one that seemed to not phase the super boy. “Oh yeah? You try beating this fish freak then!” Conner gives his girl friend a small peck on the cheek before hopping the back of the couch and taking a seat next to the boys. They began a new game and started at it, tension filling the room. “I don’t wanna be in here when Conner wins.” You said, walking off with a chuckle. Your best friend follows behind you, both of you heading back to the kitchen to snack on the grapes you’ve been picking at for the last hour.

Days like this, no missions, no jobs to do, tend to bore you all but the boys arguing always make the days go by faster.

The base announces that Robin has finally arrived, making you sigh in relief that there’d be someone to break it up when Wally finally loses his mind. “What did I miss?” His voice rings through the kitchen, making you smile. You turn to see him, his usual comfortable get up that he wears when he’s not actively Robin. “A whole lot of nothing.” You sigh out as he walks over and pops a grape in his mouth. You had gotten the green ones because you know they are his favorite, “green, my favorite.” He grins, walking over to the couch after stealing a few more. “Robin!” Wally yells with a grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his best friend arriving. “You’re here! They’ve been kicking my ass 1v1, you gotta jump in!” Dick takes no time hopping on the couch and grabbing a controller making you roll your eyes. All these boys do are play games in their free time, or spar with eachother when they are tired of that.

A few hours later, they decided they had enough of the silly games and wanted to eat. Being the good team mate and friend that you are, you decided to cook them something, feeling extra nice. They all sat on the couch, chatting and giggling while you slave away in the kitchen. You were left with your thoughts and the sound of bacon sizzling on the pan until Dick appeared behind you, watching the bacon cook. “Hey.” You nearly jump out of your skin, turning to see a chuckling Robin. “Scare you?” He said with a smirk, a gleam shining from his iconic sunglasses. You roll your eyes and softly smack him across the arm, “no.” He chuckles to himself again, grabbing the tongs from the counter and flipping a few pieces on the pan that needed it. “You can go sit down if you want, y/n.” A small blush threatens to crawl onto your cheeks, but your pride won’t let it. Dick is the only one that ever offers to help you cook, and you’ve always found that so sweet. “No, we can do it together.” You said, smiling up at him which he quickly returns.

As the bacon cooks and you listen to Dick talk about his day before arriving, you notice the racket from earlier had subsided… too much. From the kitchen, you look over to eye your friends on the couch who seem to be whispering like they have been for the last week. What on earth? Why do they keep doing that? Since when do we keep secrets? You decide to ignore it and focus back on what Dick is saying, along with the food that he just finished up. “Come get it!” He yells from beside you, turning off the stove and walking the pan over to the table. You find yourself forgetting the whispering, and instead begin to think about how sweet Dick truly is to you and the rest of the team, but especially you. Wally comes rushing in, everyone else following behind. “Thanks Rob.” He says with a grin before sitting down to munch and crunch. Everyone else takes a seat, including you. “Don’t thank me, thank y/n.” Dick said with a sheepish smile, taking a seat across from you and Wally.

Kid smirks to himself, leaning over and giving you a small peck on the cheek. “Thanks, y/n.” This is the first time he’s ever done something so flirtatious with you, besides his usual boyish humor. A small blush does creep onto your cheeks this time, a gulp attempting to swallow your confusion. “Yeah, no problem.” Dick seems to eye Wally, like he was also confused on why he did that but it was left at that, dinner commencing.

After everyone talked and ate, you decided that sitting and watching a movie would be fun and relaxing. The movie carried on normally, how any watch fest with the team would until Wally’s arm seemed to drape over your shoulder loosely half way through the movie. To be honest, you didn’t even notice it at first, until you felt him scoot a little closer on the couch. That was when you felt the weight of his arm, even a little tug to get you closer. Just like the behavior at the table this confused you, and flustered you at the same time. The feelings you have for Dick have never been something you’ve had for Wally, and you never thought he liked you like that either. You felt a pair of eyes staring into your forehead, which by investigation was Dick, who had a look on his face at what you assumed was the arm around you. No body else looked over or said anything, like this was normal and the movie is just that good, which it’s really not. You also let the arm thing slide, that was until about ten minutes later, you feel Kid’s hand begin to rub circles onto your upper arm. “Wally? What are you doing?” You ask calmly, scooting away a tad and glancing his direction. “Yeah Wally, what are you doing?” Dick’s voice comes from the other side of the couch, laced with irritation. “Oh I’m sorry y/n, am I not allowed to touch you?” Wally asks, softly, ignoring Robin. You go to open your mouth and respond but another voice cuts you off. “No. You’re not.” Dick’s voice sounds even darker than before, a look of disgust on his face. Wally’s lips turn into a smug smirk, his arm leaving your shoulder. “You’re not y/n, why not let her answer?” He says, now turning to you. Everyone’s eyes seem to be on you, some looks of intrigue like they want to know the answer and others just enjoying the show it seems. “Her answer is no.” Dick responds again before you can speak, but it isn’t like you knew what to say. Dick stands up and walks over, taking a quick seat on the other side of you. “What’s your sudden interest in y/n, huh? What makes you think she’d want you?” Wally smirks at him, that usual snarky little face he gets when he knows he has started something. “Why do you care so much, Rob? Jealous?” The idea of him being jealous makes a blush appear on your cheeks for the second time tonight. He tuts his lips at Wally’s question and sits back, arms crossed. “No.” This makes your heart ache a bit, but you decide to sit back and watch the screen again, happy to see everyone else finished with that conversation and do the same.

That night had ended, and the next day comes, starting like most days, until it got later and someone was missing. The night before everyone had decided to sleep there, but you watched as Dick left early, not saying a word to anyone. You know him well and this is very much unlike him, but no body seemed to bring it up.

After worrying about it all day, the base announces that Robin has arrived, making everyone who is currently sitting on the couch, look over in the direction he’s expected from. He comes in, seeming a bit more like himself as he starts talking to everyone about something Bruce was telling him this morning.

Wally had been normal all day, no incidents happening like yesterday, which makes you even more confused about the whole thing.

“Do you want to cook again, or are we ordering food?” M’gann asks, clearly having food on the brain. “Let’s give this babe a break and order something.” Wally says, motioning over to you. Babe? Why is he flirting with you? You go to tell him to knock it off honestly, you don’t get why he’s flirting with you, but M’gann and Conner interrupt, going on about what to order. You notice Dick go quiet after this, as do you. Wally’s hand comes down and rests on your knee, your eyes quickly darting down to it. Another pair of eyes seem to do the same, Dick’s eyes. He gets that same expression as he did last night, but this time he also looks… sad? Before you can move his hand, which you were about to do, Dick quickly stands up, but only you seemed to notice. His fist quickly made contact with Wally’s face, making him fall back into the couch. It was so quick, and it definitely caught everyone’s attention. “Hey!” Wally yells as he presses his hand to his own face, which was probably on fire. “You fucking knew!” Dick yelled, fists clenched. “You’ve always known how I feel about y/n and you have the nerve to go after her- in front of me!” Your face goes into shock, completely taken aback by what he said. “How dare you.” He says very seriously, but sadness laced his words. Before anyone could speak he storms off, in the direction of the room he stays in when he’s here. The room goes silent, eyes all quickly darting away from eachother. “I’m sorry, I set this up, I didn’t know he would get so upset.” M’gann finally spoke, making everyone look in her direction. “He wants to kill me.” Wally sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. You feel very confused and now borderline frustrated, finally you speak. “What’s going on?” You say, tone confused but firm. “What did you do?” You say, looking at M’gann. “It wasn’t just her, we planned it. We wanted one of you to confess your feelings so we set it up to make Rob jealous and confess, we didn’t know he would freak out on him.” Conner said from next to her, a guilty look painting all their faces. This has all been so confusing it just now hits you that, Dick likes you back.

“You have to go talk to him, I’ll take the beating for it later.” Wally says with a small side ways grin, making you sigh, a flustered feeling coating your stomach. “Okay…” You said softly, going to stand and walk in the direction he went.

You took your sweet time, feeling nervous, what do you say? A solid knock on his door is all you have the courage to do, but he doesn’t respond. You stand there for a moment, frozen in fear before you build up the courage to do it again. “What.” Is all you hear, flat and hurt. “Can I come in, Rob?” You say softly, hand on the door. It stays quiet before you hear a shuffle and the door open. You push your way in softly, seeing his figure stand next to the door, closing it behind you. “Do you really want Wally?” He asks, in a point blank tone, an expression you’ve never seen on his face. Your eyes widen in surprise, an answer stuttering out. “What? No.” You could tell from his eyes that he actually cried a bit, making you feel worse. “He- he didn’t mean it! It was just to get one of us to admit we like eachother.” His eyes now widened, picking up on the fact that you just admitted to feeling the same way he did the whole time. “So you don’t want him?” He asks, face softening much more than before. You shake your head, twiddling your fingers down at your waist, “no, I want you.” His eyes seemed to light up instantly, a grin appearing against his will.

“Yeah?” He said, a grin also quickly appearing on you as well. “Yeah.” It seemed like he’d never make a move, nervousness still covering his face so you move in closer and grab his jaw, gently placing a kiss on his lips. It doesn’t take but a second for you both to melt into each other, his hands coming to hold your waist. He pulls at you to come closer, a hum of satisfaction leaving his lips. This led to some more long awaited kissing, both of you clearly relieved to finally have what you’ve always wanted. He pulls away eventually, looking down at you with admiration in his eyes and swollen lips.

“I totally knew you’d want me and not a guy who sucks at video games.”

- end