Summary: you come home, very drunk, and see a very hot guy sitting on your couch… so naturally you ask him out!
It starts with a simple, high-pitched gasp in the middle of your living room.
Jason is sitting on the couch in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants, laptop on his knees, mid-snack, when you stumble through the front door. You’re wearing one of his oversized jacket slung over your shoulders, your cheeks flushed red from two too many margaritas with your friends, and your hair a complete, chaotic masterpiece.
He sets his laptop aside immediately, a half-amused, half-concerned smirk already forming on his lips. "Hey, sweetheart. How was girls' night—"
He doesn't get to finish. The moment your eyes land on him, your hands fly to your face, covering your red-hot cheeks. You freeze in place, staring at him through your fingers as if you’ve just spotted a celebrity in a coffee shop.
"Oh," you whisper loud enough for the whole apartment complex to hear. "Oh my god."
Jason blinks, pausing. "What?"
You kick off your shoes—completely missing the rack—and take three deliberate, overly cautious, drunk steps toward the couch. Your eyes are wide, glassy, and completely starstruck.
"Who are you?" you ask, leaning over the back of the couch, resting your chin on your folded hands. You beam at him, giggling softly. "Because you are... so pretty. Like so hot. Has anyone ever told you that? You look like a whole movie star."
Jason slowly looks down at his faded t-shirt, then back up at you. A playful glint flickers in his blue eyes as the reality hits him: You have completely forgotten you're already dating him.
"A movie star, huh?" Jason drawls, leaning back against the cushions and crossing his arms over his chest. He bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. "Can't say I hear that one often. I'm Jason."
"Jason," you sigh, the name rolling off your tongue like a melody. You sway slightly where you stand, blushing down to your collarbone. "That's a nice name. I'm... well, you know. I'm me."
"Nice to meet you, Me," he says softly, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register he knows makes you melt. "What's a girl like you doing flustered in my living room?"
"I live here! I think?" You look around the apartment, thoroughly confused for a split second, before your focus snaps right back to him like a magnet. You lean in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Listen... I know this is crazy, but... are you single?"
You pause, then giggle, “wanna know a secret? I actually wanna marry you but I think asking you if you’re single is less advanced.”
Jason bites his lower lip, trying—and failing—to hide a massive grin. "Am I single? Well... that's a tough question."
Your face falls instantly into a dramatic, adorable pout, and you genuinely look devastated. "Oh no. You have a girlfriend?"
"I do," Jason says softly, watching your reaction.
"Is she pretty?" you ask, sniffling just a little bit, clearly heartbroken.
"She's gorgeous," Jason says, his voice softening. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist gently, and pulls you over the back of the couch until you tumble right onto his lap. You gasp, your hands landing flat against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "She’s got this ridiculously cute laugh, gets super giggly when she drinks, and is currently sitting on my lap looking at me like I hung the moon."
You stare at him, your brain slowly churning through the alcoholic fog.
1... 2... 3 seconds pass.
"Wait," you whisper, your eyes going wide. "I just drank and I am fairly giggly."
"You are."
"And I'm on your lap."
"You are."
"...I'm the pretty girlfriend?!"
Jason couldn't hold it back anymore; he threw his head back and laughed, the deep, rumbling sound vibrating through his chest against your palms. "Yes, dummy. You're the pretty girlfriend. We've been together for over a year."
A look of pure, unadulterated triumph washes over your face. You kick your feet up, burying your burning face right into the crook of his neck, muffled giggles spilling out against his skin. "I scored so hard," you mutter into his collar. "He's huge and he's mine."
"Yeah, yeah, you hit the lottery," Jason chuckled, his broad arms wrapping snugly around your waist, pulling you close so you wouldn't slide off. He kissed the top of your head, resting his chin on your hair. "Come on, baby. Let's get you some water and into bed before you try to ask me out again."
"Wait!" You pop your head back up, cheeks still bright red, poking his chest with a single finger. "So... does this mean you won't go on a date with me?"
Jason shook his head, a soft, fond smile softening his rugged features. "I'll take you on a date every single day of the week, sweetie. Now go to sleep."
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐞 ⇢ your finals were stressful enough. having jason doing chores shirtless around the apartment certainly wasn't helping.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⇢ suggestive ⬫ fluff ⬫ established relationship ⬫ f!reader ⬫ no physical description is given for the reader ⬫ english isn't my language .... 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⇢ 2k.
❝ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ❞ first of all, i'd like to give credit to the incredibly beautiful jason artwork by @ciricearts and the dividers by @/chrisssiren. i'm so happy because this blog just hit 100 followers, yeee!! the idea for this fic came from the awful grade i got in business math... but at least i managed to recover it in the end. anyway, i hope you enjoy! ꈍ ꈍ ੭っ
𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 the type to sleep much. years spent living on the streets, combined with all his training and his life as a vigilante, had taught his body to snap awake at the slightest sound. even after his longest patrols, his brain stubbornly refused to let its guard down.
but last night's patrol had been different. harder. he'd taken more hits than usual, fallen from a considerable height, and thrown more than a few guys into walls. by the time he'd made it back to your apartment, it was already a little past 3:00a.m. he'd barely managed to peel off his gear before collapsing into bed beside you.
when jason finally woke up, it was already 11:00a.m. he stretched lazily beneath the blankets, hugged the pillow against his chest, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand to make sure he wasn't imagining the time. the ceiling fan spun overhead with a soft, steady hum. the bed was warm, comfortable, and smelled like you. and he trusted you with his whole heart. under those circumstances, sleep came easy.
he reached across the mattress, patting your side of the bed, only to find it empty. the bedroom door was closed, and no sounds drifted in from the rest of the apartment.
sitting up, he rolled his shoulders, wincing as sore muscles protested and a few joints cracked pleasantly. then he lifted an arm, caught a whiff of himself, and grimaced. he'd been so exhausted last night that he hadn't even showered. you deserved better than that, he thought. the bare minimum was being a clean, decent-smelling boyfriend.
jason climbed out of bed, grabbed the towel you'd left out for him, and headed for the bathroom. warm water poured over his aching body, easing the soreness from the previous night's patrol while washing away sweat, grime, and dried blood. once he was done, he pulled on nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants and stepped out with damp hair still dripping onto his shoulders.
the moment he entered the living room, he found you sitting on the floor with your back resting against the couch. an open laptop sat in front of you, a lecture video paused on the screen. around you lay an overwhelming sea of open textbooks, notebooks, highlighters, scattered pens, and one oversized mug of coffee.
jason knew your finals were right around the corner. he also knew how seriously you took your education. it was one of the things he admired most about you.
walking over, he bent down and gently ran a hand through your hair "morning, pretty girl. sleep well?" you closed your eyes for a brief moment, leaning into his touch before immediately returning your attention to the page in front of you.
"morning, baby. i did. what about you?" you asked without looking up from the book. "there's fresh coffee. i bought your favorite jam yesterday, it’s in the cabinet if you want some." a small smile tugged at his lips. he left you to your studying.
in the kitchen, jason poured himself a mug of coffee, tossed a couple slices of bread into the toaster, cracked a few eggs into a frying pan, and helped himself to the jam you'd mentioned. sitting on one of the counter stools, he ate in comfortable silence, stealing occasional glances in your direction with a faint smile.
once he finished, he gathered the dirty dishes and carried them to the sink. last night's dinner plates were still stacked there, so he organized everything in what he considered the most efficient way before washing each plate, fork, and glass in an order that probably only made sense to him.
meanwhile, you were losing your mind over one particular subject. it had never been your strongest class, but you were far too stubborn to settle for a mediocre grade. with a heavy sigh, you let the textbook fall into your lap and glanced toward the kitchen, where your boyfriend stood at the sink with his back turned to you. and holy shit. he was gorgeous.
his hair was still slightly damp from the shower. his broad, bare back flexed with every movement, showing off defined muscles marked by both old and fresh scars, along with bruises earned during the previous night's patrol.
your eyes drifted lower. his sweatpants hung low enough to reveal those little dimples above his hips. and jason's ass? absolutely perfect. round, firm. infuriatingly nice. your boyfriend was undeniably stunning.
but you didn't have time to admire him, you had a damn exam to study for. you picked your textbook back up and tried to focus. tried. because every few seconds, your head seemed to turn on its own, your eyes instinctively finding jason all over again.
now he was putting dishes away in the cabinets, completely oblivious to the absolutely starving beast — you, to be specific — watching him from across the room.
you forced yourself to look back at your books. only to lose your place again. and again. you'd forget what you'd just read, lose your train of thought, and have to start the entire page over.
jason still had his own apartment, but the two of you had been together long enough that spending several days at each other's places had become completely normal. you had a section of your closet reserved for his clothes, just like he'd made room for yours at his place.
at this point, it honestly felt like you both had two homes. this was already jason's fifth day staying over. technically, the two of you hadn't spent much time together. he'd been busy with patrols, and you'd been buried under assignments and exam prep. still, for jason, simply crawling into bed beside you at the end of the day was enough to quiet his mind and make him happy.
because of your finals, the apartment had gotten a little messy. you were under so much pressure and juggling so many responsibilities that some chores had inevitably been pushed aside. but jason had been staying there all week too, the mess wasn't yours alone. so he decided to take care of it. that way, you'd have one less thing weighing on your mind.
he started by sweeping the apartment, deliberately avoiding the vacuum cleaner so the noise wouldn't interrupt your studying. afterward, he grabbed the mop and started cleaning the hardwood floors, adding a pleasantly scented cleaner that slowly filled the apartment with a fresh, comforting smell.
from your perspective, it was heaven. jason todd, all 6’0 tall, shirtless, muscles shifting beneath his skin as he quietly went about household chores without complaining once. god, you found competent men so unbelievably sexy.
almost instinctively, you brought the pen you were holding to your mouth, absentmindedly chewing on the cap as the textbook lay completely forgotten in your lap.
you looked him over again. this time from the front. your gaze wandered from his broad chest, down over his sculpted abs and the happy trail that, truthfully, made you very happy indeed.
then your eyes dropped a little lower, and you noticed something. jason had apparently pulled on his sweatpants without bothering with underwear. now, as he pushed the mop across the floor, his very well-endowed friend swayed ever so slightly beneath the fabric, leaving very little to the imagination.
a quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped you before both hands flew up to cover your face. seriously… how were you supposed to study when your boyfriend looked that unfairly good?
the worst part? he genuinely seemed to have no idea what he was doing to you. you took a sip of the coffee that had long since gone cold and inhaled deeply. focus. you could not fail this class.
with a little of your self-control restored, you grabbed your notebook and resumed the lecture you'd been watching before jason woke up. maybe listening to the professor while taking notes would be enough to keep your attention where it belonged.
it worked, for a while. right up until jason walked back out carrying an overflowing laundry basket with one hand as if it weighed absolutely nothing. his expression was as calm as ever, and the flex of his arm made every muscle stand out beneath his skin, veins tracing along his forearm.
you followed him with your eyes until he disappeared into the laundry room. a long sigh slipped past your lips as you let your head fall back against the couch. why was watching him do laundry so attractive?
a few minutes later, he returned, and you could hear the washing machine starting its cycle somewhere in the background. focus. you tried again. you pulled your notebook closer to your face, hugged your knees to your chest, and turned the lecture volume up, silently hoping your professor's irritating voice would annoy you enough to kill the mood.
the plan fell apart the second jason came back carrying a feather duster. watching him move from shelf to shelf, stretching, crouching, balancing an entire stack of books in one hand before placing every single one back exactly where it belonged… that was enough.
you paused the video. screw it. the study session was already doomed anyway. at that point, getting soaked with a bucket of water hardly mattered when you'd already jumped into the pool.
you stretched your legs out, rested one arm along the couch, and propped your head against your hand. then you simply watched him. completely shamelessly. your imagination filled in the blanks faster than you could stop it.
eventually, jason seemed to notice your stare. he turned around and met your eyes. his gaze flickered briefly toward the abandoned books and notebooks scattered around you before one corner of his mouth curled upward. raising an eyebrow, he smirked "babe... shouldn't you be studying?"
"oh, i absolutely should," you admitted with a shrug. "seriously. i bombed my last exam." a mischievous smile slowly spread across your face as you kept staring at him. "and may i ask why you aren't studying?" jason asked, already sounding suspicious.
"because..." you paused dramatically, running your tongue across your lips. "study is important..." another deliberate pause "but biceps are importanter."
silence. then jason burst out laughing. "you little pervert!" he accused, pointing a finger at you. "were you seriously checking me out?"
"this is entirely your fault," you shot back without missing a beat "how am i supposed to focus on studying when there's a ridiculously hot vigilante with a body sculpted by the gods cleaning my apartment shirtless and commando?"
jason blinked. then looked down. only then did he realize exactly how obvious the outline beneath his sweatpants was. he pressed a hand dramatically against his chest, feigning offense "so you're admitting, without a shred of shame, that you've been shamelessly thirsting over my body while i was completely innocent and blissfully unaware?"
your grin only widened. crooking a finger, you beckoned him closer. jason didn't hesitate, he walked over immediately before crouching in front of you, leaning in until your faces were only inches apart. "yes," you confessed softly "i absolutely was. i was staring shamelessly."
"not even a little embarrassed?" he murmured, his smile growing as he leaned even closer. "not even a little." your arms slipped around his neck as you closed the remaining distance, meeting his lips in a slow, lingering kiss.
when you finally pulled away in search of air, you tilted your head slightly "thank you, baby." he looked at you curiously "i've been so overwhelmed thinking about finals that i didn't even realize how cluttered everything had gotten."
jason's expression softened immediately, his thumb brushed gently across your cheek "you don't have to thank me. you're taking care of school. that's your job."
"but you didn't have to do all this, you know." he answered with a quick peck before meeting your eyes again, his voice completely serious "yeah, i did. your job is to take care of school. my job..." his smile turned impossibly gentle. "...is taking care of you."
your chest tightened, a lump formed in your throat. it was such a simple sentence, but it was exactly what you needed. to be taken care of. you pulled him into another kiss before whispering against his lips, "then let's go to the bedroom," a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your mouth "and take care of something else, too. i've been missing a few things."
jason todd ghost wrote the entirety of you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love. because wdym every song is like a chapter of his life????????????????????
dick grayson giggles when you call the lamp a “night light” cause he thinks it’s so kiddish but then it eventually subconsciously integrates into his vocab and one night when he tells you to turn on the night light you’re like OHHH TURN THE WHAT NOW? OOOAWHHH.
your loving husband, PROFESSOR RICHARD J. GRAYSON 🏛️✎ᝰ.
PROF. GRAYSON, who teaches law and criminal justice part-time. He starts every lesson just ever-so-casually posing a deep moral dilemma. No context. Just struts in and it's the first thing that comes out of his mouth, willing silence in the lecture hall. It's brain-itching. Borderline existential. He asks his students what they would do. And just like circus magic, he seamlessly segues into the material, pulling them down the rabbit hole he opened at the start. No one’s bored. No one’s checking the clock. The examinable content feels real and they’re hooked before they even realise they’re learning. When the lecture ends, the dilemma still lingers, following them out of the room. And just like that, they know. This class, this professor, is one they won't forget.
PROF. GRAYSON, who remembers names, faces, and who can somehow keep track of most of his students’ dreams and ambitions. He advises them whenever they ask, whenever he can. Career pathways, life choices, reassurances slipped in whenever his students tell him about their small gigs and opportunities. He sees potential even when they don’t.
PROF. GRAYSON, who wears a button-up, no tie. The top button, undone. And still, looking effortlessly, unfairly classy. Handsome, in a respectable way. A worn leather messenger bag rests slung over his shoulder as he enters the lecture hall. A bright red apple in hand like he stepped straight out of a picture book. Ever so often, a casual black baseball cap donning a “gotham academy” patch makes an appearance. Or a navy blue denim wash cap embroidered “GCPD”.
PROF. GRAYSON, who has students not even enrolled in his class sitting in the back rows. Some came because they heard he's attractive as hell. But although most sneak-ins began attending that way, they never expected to be caught off-guard. To grow fond and in awe of the way he actually teaches. The deep ponders. The sudden puns. But most importantly, the undying passion. A kind of passion that makes even dense material feel alive. His voice: steady, grounding. Even for those who snuck in not knowing anything about the material, he’s become the perfect white noise for studying.
He isn’t oblivious to the increase in attendance numbers. But for the most part, he doesn’t mind in some of his enrolled students’ best friends tagging along, sliding into empty seats beside them. They pretend they’re there to keep company, to study quietly. But really, they’re listening. They can’t help it. They soak in the way he speaks with conviction, the way he cares. His lectures become a kind of sanctuary. Open, unguarded, welcoming to anyone who needs somewhere to sit, gain perspective, or, just feel a little steadier for an hour.
PROF. GRAYSON, who brags about you, his wife. His wedding ring never leaves his finger. He’ll find ways to bring you up. Slip you into his lectures through an offhand reference here, a fond anecdote there. Never boastful, always soft with pride. You could say it's casual, but it's far from that. He mentions you when talking about ethics, about truth, about humanity. Outside of the textbook material? About connection, about family. He brings you up. He sets you as a virtuous example in his life, and it's not secret to his students. His students couldn’t even count on their fingers how many times he says “My wife always says…”. Sometimes, he smiles before he realises he’s doing it. Sometimes, he pauses, just a beat too long, like he’s remembering your voice. And every time he talks about you, even just in reference, it’s clear that his passion is real. Clear, that he believes in what he teaches. Clear that he applies mere words in a textbook to his own life. And, clear that he is a man that loves and is loved.
PROF. GRAYSON, who genuinely cares for his students. “My kids,” he calls them. He stays back long after class ends, lingering to talk through the moral dilemmas he’s just dropped into their laps.
“Prof. Gray, I’ve got a thought—” a student will say as the class wraps up.
“Let’s hear it,” he replies, face lighting up as he tosses the apple into the air, takes a generous bite, and leans in. The student ramble, untangle, and wrestle aloud with their take on the legal and ethical knot. Suddenly everyone’s stayed in overtime and other professors are complaining why their students are “so late to classes whenever grayson’s was the previous class”.
He notices the quiet ones, the argumentative ones, the ambitious ones, the humble ones, and treats every single one as capable, as worthy of serious conversation and care. And quietly, without ever announcing it, he offers grace where it’s needed most. Students who’ve failed don’t get shamed; they get a second chance through an honest conversation.
“Do I have to do a retake, sir?”
“Nope,” he says, already pulling up a chair. “Just tell me—what do you really think?”
PROF. GRAYSON, who tells you, his wife, about his day when he’s done. About his students, the debates they sparked, the perspectives they brought into the room. You practically know them all by name and their personal dreams too. He asks for your thoughts, your advice, almost always.
PROF. GRAYSON, who grades papers in the living room, Earl Grey steaming on the coffee table, sipped thoughtfully between papers. He’s nestled on an armchair across from where you sit, flicking through your own book on the couch. Pj pants: a cobalt flannel. Top: a white, tight compression shirt. His pen rests between his lips intermittently as he ponders, humming softly as he reads, nodding at good arguments, pausing at sharp insights. Each of his facial expressions illuminate under the warm glow of the corner lamp.
PROF. GRAYSON, who gives an ending speech for the graduates. The kind of speech that stays with them long after they leave the room. He tells them there is more to this than money. That work, is service, and service is an opportunity to help others. An honour. That the help they offer, even in small moments, could be the very thing that changes the trajectory of someone else’s life.
He tells them this responsibility shouldn’t be taken lightly: the responsibility of caring for others, of being trusted, and of being paid to do the right thing. He reminds them to understand the privilege in that, to be conscious of it, and to never let good stop at a paycheck. To go beyond money, always.
He tells them that wherever life takes them, they will succeed if their heart is in the right place. If they know what they stand for and believe in it. That there is nothing heroic about being a billionaire, who is never truly there for a friend. That between money and company, there is a clear winner. And that real success looks quieter, steadier, present, more human.
And before they leave, he tells them this: wherever they go, whatever they become, he knows they will succeed, as long as they carry heart with them.
where dick grayson won’t let you slip in your heels...
RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON is being overdramatic.
It's another one of those Sunday nights, dining at your favourite cozy restaurant. The small-owned family restaurant tucked in the quieter streets of Blüdhaven is the one place that brings you both peace, after wrapping up yet another week of late night patrols.
The night passed in warm laughter and soft gazes, candlelight flickering across your faces. The gentle clink of cutlery and the murmur of other diners faded into the background as you share your stories about each other's families, catching each other up on the comical thugs and ruffians you've encountered over the week (and Dick, of course, bringing up his 'weekly count' of stray animals that have followed him around while working).
So wrapped up in each other, neither of you noticed the weather shifting outside, the gentle rain that slid quietly down the windows until it passed fully.
Only now do you both notice, stepping out into the evening, the wet pavement glistening under the streetlights and the sharp scent of petrichor. You glance at the slick concrete, then at each other, exchanging that silent 'Oh, it rained? When did that happen?' look.
Dick’s eyes drop back to the ground, and his brows furrow.
“I refuse to end this night with rolled ankles,” he declares, arms folded, voice earnest.
You glance down at your heels.
"Those..." his pointer finger waves like a little kid towards your feet. “Are cute, but dangerous,” he finishes.
You giggle. At his lingering finger.
“Dick, it’s fine. I wear higher heels. And, on polished ballroom floors all the time," you say, shoving his concerned forefinger away.
"Come on, it’s barely a block down,” you remind him, trying to sound casual.
You take a few confident steps. And then, as if the universe itself decided to punish your overconfidence, you lose your balance and slip like an idiot.
Dick’s hands are suddenly on your waist, steady and sure, catching you before you fully tip over.
“Oookay, miss barely a block…” he mutters, though the corner of his mouth quirks up.
In one smooth motion, his arm slides under your knees while the other supports your back. And just like that, he lifts you up. No grunts, no wobbles. Effortlessly, cradling you against his chest.
“Dick!” you squeal, a mix of surprise and amusement, as you find yourself enveloped in his warmth. Your eyes wander, taking in the sharp line of his jaw, the clean-shaven precision of his face, the little crease of mischief in his brow and smirked lips. Your arms instinctively fling up to hold onto his neck.
“What!? You were the one that said it was barely a block,” he teases. “Come on, that’s like one full song. Sing something for me while I carry you."
You blink. Once. Thrice. “You serious?”
“Sing,” he insists, voice playful but firm. “You have a beautiful voice.”
You laugh, shaking your head, you know he’s just trying to distract you from protesting.
And it works. You start softly. I’m Singing in the Rain.
“I’m singing in the rain…”
He smiles, strutting effortlessly. All while carrying you in his arms.
“Singing in the rain…”
Then he spins. As if the sidewalk were his private stage. As if he weren't carrying a whole ass person. You squeal mid-song, getting caught off guard. Stomach fluttering at his playful turn, but also half-scared he’ll drop you or slip himself as he twirls both of you around. But then you remember he’s Dick Grayson and in no other arms would you be the safest.
A bright laughter bubbles out of you, uncontrollable and slicing through the cold of the night. It echoes, down the street empty of walker-bys and only filled with parked cars.
“What a glorious feeling!” you continue, voice full of joy. You can't help it. Oh, how your voice follows his warm energy. Though, it's second to the warmth of being cradled in his arms.
“I’m happy again!” he joins in. In perfect pitch. With vibrato too you could swear.
He dances, swaying you in his arms. Free-spirited, as he always is. Circling around lampposts, dodging puddles. You chuckle in song, at the sheer absurdity of it all.
Somehow, despite every step and twirl, you sway ever so smoothly and safely in his arms. Heck, it’s a far cry from when you dance on foot on your own. The strength in his careful hold is innate. Exactly the kind only a circus boy could don. This natural lifting, twirling, carrying with ease. Strong yet completely gentle, without a single struggled huff.
“I’m laughing at clouds so dark up above…” you continue, letting your head tilt backwards and indeed, laughing at the clouds and the faint stars peeking behind it. Your laughter spills freely, warming the cold air.
“The sun’s in my heart, and I’m ready for love!” he sings, twirling with a flourish, lifting you just slightly higher and closer to his cheek, pressing your mouth flush to it. You giggle against his warm skin.
And you take it all in. The way the streetlights catch in his hair. The sparkle in his eyes. The curve of his smile. The faint scent of rain; an earthy petrichor mixing with his cologne, musky with a whisper of mint. Inhale this musky scent that clings onto his fitted cashmere.
You take in how the world shrinks to just the two of you, suspended in motion, laughter, and song on a damp sidewalk. Like some cheesy rom com movie.
“I’m singing, singing in the—”
Dick shifts smoothly, plopping you gently onto the hood of his car. You forgot this was the whole mission for the night.
“Rain,” he finishes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
wally west is the type of guy to tell a joke for the entire group that nobody else laughed at, maybe because they didn’t find it funny at the moment and the conversation moved on to something else, maybe they just didn’t hear it while they were all trying to talk over each other, but when he notices that you heard it and actually laughed at it he smirks to himself, taking pride in his joke, and adds another comment just for you to hear. his smile widens when you laugh again at that, louder this time, so he keeps dragging the joke, getting more and more ridiculous with each comment, until you’re giggling uncontrollably. of course the joke wasn’t even funny to him anymore, he’s only teasing you now because he’s just found out that he loves the sound of your laugh and he loves being the one who’s caused it. he’s absolutely lovestruck and he now knows that he needs to keep making you laugh like that in the future.
series masterlist, mature themes, language, miiiight be ooc
“Dick are you listening!” Bruce’s voice boomed in his closed office, causing Dick to jolt awake.
“I’m up!” He yelled, blinking his eyes open.
“You’re not fine. You don’t have to come to Gotham every week. We have it covered here,” Bruce said, trying to keep his voice down and contained but Dick was really trying him.
“It’s fine Bruce,” Dick groaned. “This is possibly the biggest bust we’ve ever had, it’s everything and more to put Maroni behind bars. I want to help.”
“Not at the cost of your life! When’s the last time you slept? Let me come help you. The others will cover here. Gotham won’t collapse if Batman takes a day off.”
“Thank you Bruce but Blüdhaven is Nightwing’s town,” Dick argued. “I don’t need you. I have it covered.”
“Titans aren’t there anymore. You can’t be in two cities at once.”
“I can try,” Dick replied and before Bruce could come up with more fatherly advice that he would have never followed himself, Dick got up and left.
He walked to the elevator and let his mind wander off to his teenage years, just a couple years before Jason was taken in by Bruce.
How he wanted to prove himself. To not only his adoptive father but to everyone else as well. He didn’t want or need anybody’s help. Especially Batman’s.
He’s made Blüdhaven a city where the citizens don’t fear their saviour. They love Nightwing because he invokes hope in them, not fear.
He had it under control. He could be there for his city and also for his family.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and decided to go over to the food court to get a coffee to go before he left for Blüdhaven.
As he walked over to the little coffee shop on the ground floor of the Wayne Enterprises building, he heard your voice.
Your laughter to be precise and he was so sure he was hallucinating it again.
He looked around with confusion etched on his face, trying to find the familiar glasses and hair bun.
His confusion however was soon replaced with delight and a small smile appeared on his face despite himself when he finally caught the sight of you sitting in one of the chairs.
What surprised him though was that Jason was sitting opposite of you.
His eyes shot open and he forgot about coffee and why he even needed it in the first place as he strode over to where you and Jason were sitting.
“I didn’t know Jason had a sense of humour,” he interrupted by placing his hands on the table and glancing between you and his brother.
He felt something bitter in the pit of his stomach and something told him it wasn’t just about the argument he had with Bruce. It also had something to do with the fact that Jason was apparently making you laugh so hard with your head tilted back.
He would give anything to make you laugh like that.
“Oh hi Dick,” you greeted, the smile that graced your lips earlier was quickly replaced with surprise at his appearance.
“Hey,” he smiled and turned to Jason. “Share with the class Jay.”
“You had to be there,” you said before Jason could say something, letting out a giggle as if just the thought of whatever Jason said was enough to make you laugh until you wept again.
“What’s happening here?” Dick asked again, looking at Jason who just gave him a smug look in return, knowing his brother better than he would’ve liked to admit.
“I’m conducting individual interviews,” you replied and he finally turned to look at you. “I had an appointment with Cass yesterday and then Tim and I went to a coffee shop.”
“You went to a coffee shop with Tim,” Dick raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Then I had an appointment with Damian today but it was only for an hour. I was surprised with how much he had to say for a child.”
“Damian?!” Dick almost yelled. “You got my thirteen year old brother before me?”
“Well Bruce said you weren’t available,” you frowned.
“Oh Bruce said that?” Dick echoed, his earlier annoyance at Bruce coming back.
“Yeah I told him I could just email you the questions.”
“No need, I’m here,” he gave you a curt smile and grabbed a chair from the nearby table and sat down next to Jason. “Ask away.”
“Um Dick, they’re called individual interviews for a reason. I need to do them alone,” you explained.
“Fine then after Jason. I’m here all day.”
He was surprised at how swiftly the lie left his mouth when he was just on his way to leave for Blüdhaven.
“I’m off after Jason, it’s four already.”
“Tomorrow night. Dinner,” he offered.
“It’s okay really I’ll email you,” you repeated.
“Nuh uh,” Dick tutted too quickly. “Everyone got an interview, why not me? I’m the oldest too and the most interesting.”
“Well I don’t want to go to dinner with you,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s inappropriate.”
“You went for coffee with Tim, had lunch with Jason but a dinner with me for your own benefit is inappropriate?”
“It's different,” you said through clenched teeth.
“Why?”
“Because she wants to fuck you Dick how are you this dense?” Jason drawled with a bored huff of breath.
“What?” You sputtered. “That’s not even why! That is soooo inappropriate. Why would you even think that! Are you serious oh my god!” You rambled on and looked at Dick for help but you should have known he’d be enjoying this too much.
His lips were curved into a teasing smile as he waited for you to continue.
“You said all that yet I didn’t hear a no from you,” Jason said, mirroring Dick’s smile.
“Can we get back to work? Please.”
“Sure. As soon as you set a time for our interview,” Dick provided.
You glared at his smug face, still sporting that amused grin before letting out a defeated breath.
“I’m going to Wayne Manor tomorrow for brunch with Bruce. I don't know when you’ll get the time.”
“Great, I'm home tomorrow,” Dick shrugged.
“Again, individual interviews. Alone,” you explained again.
“Okay then dessert is on me!” Dick cheered with a clap of his hands like it was done and decided.
“If you promise no flirty comments, no innuendos, no asking me out. Strictly professional,” you asserted.
“I’ll be so professional you’ll be scared.”
“Thats…” You trailed off. “Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“It’s a date then,” Dick grinned.
“It’s not a date!”
“Its not not a date,” he winked.
“Dick don’t make me regret it.”
“Fine, it's not a date,” he sighed dramatically.
“Good boy,” you teased, taking a sip of your iced coffee.
Dick on the other hand, lost his shit.
He stared at you with flared nostrils and clenched fists below the table with no trace of earlier amusement or a smile on his face.
Right where you wanted him.
“Is this some kind of foreplay for you two? Because if it is, I don’t want to be a part of it,” Jason chimed in and that's when you realised that you had forgotten he was even in the room.
“That would imply your brother and I have a relationship of some sorts which we don’t,” you replied. “Dick can we get back to work?”
“Sure,” Dick drawled, putting the chair back to its original table. “Can’t wait for our date tomorrow!” He grinned and ran away before you could counter.
“IT'S NOT A DATE!” You yelled after him but only heard a loud cackle in response.
“Jesus Christ," Jason sighed.
“Sorry,” you flushed. “Anyway,” you began but couldn’t concentrate.
Your mind scrambled to remember the questions you were supposed to ask but instead all you could think about was black wavy hair, blue eyes and a smile that lights up the room.
Even though you had noticed the eyebags and dark circles he had been sporting like he hadn’t slept in days, that smile of his was still the brightest thing you’d seen today.
“Do you need a second?” Jason offered.
“No just…” you trailed off. “Is he always like this?”
“Like what?”
“This… this cheeky, this flirty with every girl he meets. Is this a game? Am I like his next target or something?”
“I’m giving advice on dating now?”
“Sorry,” you shook your head. “Not dating by the way. Just curious about his antics.”
Jason took a deep breath and began rapping his knuckles on the table. “Look I don’t do this but he’s not like that. Like a really hyper child on a sugar rush, in fact this is the first time in weeks he’s seemed normal. And for the relationships part, he’s had like two girlfriends in the past.”
“Just two?” Your eyebrows shot up in shock. “Is this a planned thing? Did he ask you to be his wingman?”
“Do I look like I’d be his wingman?” Jason scoffed.
“No,” you muttered under your breath and decided to dismiss the conversation. “Next question.”
-
Wayne Manor looked exactly how it sounded.
Like a maze.
A very old, very Victorian, very big maze.
If it wasn’t for Alfred greeting you at the door you surely would have ended up in ballroom number seven.
He took your coat off on the door and hung it on the rack beside the grand staircase before leading you outside on the patio.
It was a sunny-ish day. Sunny for Gotham at least. So you had decided to wear a white sundress.
It was long enough to cover your thighs and short enough to show off your legs. The perfect length.
Bruce was already waiting outside when you sat down opposite of him on the patio chair.
He was dressed in a white polo and casual jeans with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. It was odd to see him in casual clothing. All you had known about Bruce Wayne is that he loved throwing lavish galas and very expensive suits.
You were much much relaxed here than you were at Wayne Enterprises. Maybe it was because Bruce looked relaxed too or maybe because there were no black haired blue eyed boys hell bent on distracting you.
The two of you went back and forth with questions and answers and you were glad at the easy flow of it all. You hadn’t stuttered once and even laughed occasionally at Bruce’s bored responses.
Who knew Bruce Wayne could be funny?
It had almost been an hour before you finally heard the signs of life. That someone other than Bruce and Alfred also lived here.
It was Damian who was running with heavy feet around the backyard while a blonde girl chased after him with a pillow.
“Stephanie! Damian!” Bruce called out. “I’m in a meeting.”
“He took my phone!” Stephanie complained.
“Duke won’t respond to me. I assumed he would take her calls. I need to speak to him urgently,” Damian explained and ran inside.
“Sorry about that,” Bruce sighed with a shake of his head, looking every bit of the tired father he was.
Raising five kids couldn’t have been easy, especially when four of them were boys.
“Oh don’t worry about it,” you waved your hand. “It must be so lively with so many kids around.”
“That’s one word for it,” he grumbled under his breath. “Master Bruce,” Alfred called, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. “I have Mr. Fox on the line.”
“Tell him I’ll call him back.”
“I’m afraid it cannot wait,” Alfred replied.
Bruce eyed him for a long second before letting out a defeated sigh.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think it's time for us to take a break. Enjoy your tea, I’ll be back.”
“Take your time!” You replied and turned off your tape recorder.
Instead of sitting there, all alone and bored in the backyard that was definitely bigger than your whole apartment complex, you decided to pull your phone out and take photos of creatively cut bushes and gazebo in case Andy found any of them worthy enough to add to the little house tour section of the magazine.
You walked over to the pool area next but just as you stepped close enough, someone cannonballed into it, splashing cool chlorine filled water all over you and your dress.
You yelped and stepped back, wiping your face with your hands and you watched a dark swirl in the pool before the person who splashed you finally poked their head out.
“Ugh!” You groaned loudly and almost stomped your foot when your eyes met the familiar blue ones.
Of course it was Dick Grayson.
He pushed his wet hair clinging to his forehead back and wiped the water from his face before swimming to the edge of the pool.
“Oh sorry did I get you?” He asked.
“Get me?! I’m fucking drenched!” You cried.
“I’ve been told I have that effect on ladies,” he flashed you a grin.
“Dick!” You chastised. “I could have been holding my notes or my tape recorder, are you serious!”
“I’m sorry I genuinely didn’t see you,” he replied, sounding way too earnest.
“Sure you didn’t. Sure you don’t live and breathe to sabotage my work,” you managed through clenched teeth which finally made him realise the seriousness of the situation.
He pulled himself up on the edge of the pool and began walking towards you.
Your eyes however involuntarily landed on his abs, currently glistening with water.
More water droplets fell from his hair down to his pecs to his abs before eventually disappearing into the waistband of his black swimming trunks.
Which by the way were way too low that you could see the sharp V line right below his abs.
His abs that were sculpted by gods.
You bit your lips to stop yourself from letting out a moan.
He stopped right in front of you, the tips of his toes touching your sandals before he let out a cough.
You blinked and finally looked away from his tanned and sculpted body.
He looked down at you with an amusement filled expression. You could tell he was stopping himself from smirking with how his tongue was poking the inside of his cheek.
You suddenly felt hot all over and chose to blame it on the sun.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I promise you I didn’t know.”
“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes and folded your arms over your chest.
“I would never ever ruin this dress on purpose,” he murmured, sliding his index finger under the thin strap of your dress before moving his finger back and forth.
“What are you doing?” You whispered, voice shaky as you looked at his wet eyelashes.
“You look good,” he swallowed, pulling his hand away from your shoulder.
“Dick come on!” Tim yelled, snapping you out of whatever spell Dick had cast on you.
You backed away from him and looked at Tim who was now inside the pool with Damian, Jason, Cass, a reheaded woman and the blonde for earlier.
Jason’s lips parted as he caught your eyes, his gaze moving lower your body before he blinked and looked away.
You crossed your arms over your chest again, suddenly feeling a bit too exposed.
“Come on, I’ll get you something to wear,” Dick said from next to you, voice suddenly turning way too deep.
“It’s fine,” you reassured.
Dick let out a long sigh and turned you sideways with a soft hand on your hip so you could face him but not before he gave Jason a look you couldn’t decipher.
“You’re wearing a white dress which is currently wet. Do I need to spell it out?” He raised his eyebrow and that's when you finally looked down at your dress and realised it was now translucent.
“Oh.”
“Come on,” he repeated and led you inside the manor with a soft grip on your wrist.
He walked upstairs with you falling into a trail behind him. He hadn’t even bothered to wear flip flops and was currently leaving wet footprints on some very expensive carpet.
Rich people.
He halted his stride right outside the door of his childhood bedroom you were guessing and opened it wide enough for you to step in first.
“Oh so this is the infamous Dick Grayson’s bedroom?” You teased, looking around the large room.
The bed was big enough for four people and was covered in navy blue sheets. There was a desk at the corner of the room next to giant bookshelves. A few band posters were hung on the wall along with a polaroid that said ‘me and jason’ on it with a very small Jason Todd and a twenty something Dick Grayson.
You walked over to the dresser in the corner of the room and squinted at the framed photograph resting on top in a golden frame. You picked it up and saw a couple dressed in matching red and green bodysuits with a little boy in between them grinning from ear to ear with his hands on his hips.
You were beginning to get familiar with that grin. It was Dick’s.
“Your parents?” You asked in a low voice, too afraid to disrupt the quiet in the room.
“Yeah,” Dick replied, coming to stand right behind you.
“The flying Graysons,” you murmured. “I’ve read about you. Sorry about what happened.”
Dick didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he simply plucked the photo frame out of your hands from behind you and put it back on the dresser where you had found it.
You finally turned around and looked up at him. He was too close, way too close that you could feel his steady and warm breath fanning over you.
His black eyelashes were darker now that they were wet and framed his blue eyes in a way they looked like precious gems.
The smell of chlorine filled pool water was coming off him and on anyone else it would be a turn off but it was Dick Grayson. And his tanned abs on full display.
He swallowed hard, one hand still on the dresser behind you.
“Dick…” you whispered, eyes going down to his bitten lips.
It would be so so easy to just move half an inch and kiss him. He would let you if you did.
His breathing slowed like he was composing himself before he finally spoke.
“Don’t say my name like that,” he rasped.
“Like what?”
“All breathy and soft like it means something to you.”
“And what if it does?” You challenged, jutting your chin upwards so you could present some sort of confidence in your speech despite him towering over you.
His lips curved next in a knowing smile while his sharp gaze stayed on you.
“There she is,” he mused.
“Here I am.”
“Your dress,” he said next.
“What about it?”
“Take it off.”
“Take your trunks off first,” you retorted.
“I meant to change,” he scrunched his nose and gave you his infamous smirk before pulling his hand away which was now holding a blue hoodie he must have pulled out from the dresser.
“Right!” You said, way too loud and snatched the hoodie from him.
You pushed at his chest and ran off to the en suite bathroom while Dick rolled over himself and laughed loudly.
Half of the walls inside the bathroom were made of mirrors and you could clearly see how flushed you looked. You shook your head and scoffed at your own reflection before splashing cold water on your face.
You stripped out of your dress and pulled Dick’s hoodie over your body. It immediately engulfed your whole torso, reaching past your waist and stopped right at your mid thighs. The sleeves were big enough to cover your palms.
In another situation it would be enough for you to wear but you were technically at work and walking around Bruce Wayne’s house in just a hoodie; that too his son’s probably wasn’t the brightest of ideas.
“Dick!” You called out, stepping outside of the bathroom.
He was now sitting at the foot of the bed, leaning on his hands holding his weight up. His legs were parted, showing you his muscular thighs that you had the odd urge to sit on but you ignored it.
His abs were flexing with every breath he took and you silently thanked the god who sculpted his body.
Dick on the other hand was also spiralling. His eyes remained glued to the hem of his hoodie that you were wearing.
It was a sight he probably didn’t need to see right now after watching your chest on full display underneath the wet dress.
The lacy blue bra you wore was enough to make him lose his mind. He could even see the little bow resting in between your boobs. The delicate lace hugging your skin just right, exposing the curves just enough to keep him wanting more.
And when he saw Jason look at you with the same hunger he did, he felt the same bitter feeling rise up in his throat.
It had been the second time he had gotten jealous of his brother in twenty four hours and he was ashamed of himself.
He couldn’t help it.
Something primal in him though made him smirk at the blue colour of your lingerie because it was his blue.
Not red, blue.
He watched you now, standing just a few steps away from him. Dressed in his hoodie. Not Jason’s.
He saw your bare thighs, taking them in and saving the sight for later when he got in the shower.
“Dick?” You asked again, pulling him out of his thoughts before they got lost somewhere he couldn’t reach.
“Yeah?” he gulped and shook his head.
“I need pants,” you said in a small voice, causing Dick to smile.
It was impossible for him to not be smiling every time you were around.
“Do you?” He drawled with a teasing grin.
“Yes!” You cried, pulling the hoodie down which caused your collarbones to expose.
Dick cursed under his breath and got up from the bed, walking over to his dresser again to find something for you to wear.
He pulled out a pair of his old sweatpants from high school when he was much shorter.
He handed them to you before taking his earlier seat at the foot of the bed, eyeing you carefully as you bent down to pull them over your legs.
As you pulled the sweatpants over your legs and got closer to your waist, the hoodie had risen up. It exposed the matching lace panties you wore and this time Dick couldn’t help the groan that left him.
He fell back against the bed and covered his face.
You eyed him with confusion.
“You okay?” You checked.
“Yeah,” he scoffed lightly.
You stepped closer to him on the bed to see if anything was wrong but your eyes instead landed on the bulge currently forming in his swimming trunks.
You blushed at the sight and tried to look anywhere but there.
“Why do you have a boner right now!” You hushed.
“It's your fault!” He snapped back, sitting upright.
“What did I do?”
“Be hot!” He raised his voice. “And naked and wet and…”
“Me?!” You exclaimed. “What about you! With your tanned skin and your abs and your hair and your trunks that might as well not be there!”
“Are you seriously arguing about who’s more turned on right now?”
“Yes,” you replied without missing a beat.
“God you’re so hot,” he groaned again and fell back against the bed. “Okay we should go before my family thinks we’re having sex in there.”
“Why would they think that?” You asked.
“Because-”
“Because you do this a lot? Bring a lot of girls in here-”
“Because they know how much I want you,” Dick interrupted you and for the first time in ever, you were at a loss for words.
“Right,” you managed. “Right, we should go. Bruce must be back.”
“You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” Dick replied, gesturing towards his trunks.
You flushed again.
“I could keep you company? Talk about ducks or birds or…” you trailed off.
“Respectfully, you’re the reason I’m in this mess. I need you to not be around me if I want to get rid of my boner.”
“Oh right,” you repeated. “I’ll be downstairs then, interviewing your dad.”
Dick nodded in agreement and before he could say anything else, you left the room.
You quickly scampered off into the backyard and sat back down on the patio chair. Luckily Bruce still wasn’t back so you opened up your notes again and pretended to be busy.
Anything to get the blush off your face.
You weren’t very successful though because Bruce walked out a few minutes later with Dick next to him. They were both talking about something and from where you were sitting, it seemed like they were speaking over each other.
They halted just a few feet away from you and turned towards each other. Dick put his hand on his hips and looked up at the sky in clear frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose next and walked away from Bruce without saying anything.
Before he could find you staring, you looked away and began pretending to work again.
Bruce sat down in front of you and muttered a quiet apology for being late.
“That’s okay, I got busy,” you gave him a sheepish smile and looked down at your clothes.
“What happened?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.
“I was standing next to the pool when Di-” you paused, remembering the way Dick and Bruce were arguing just a few seconds ago. “Someone cannonballed in.”
“Sorry about that,” Bruce sighed.
For the next thirty minutes, you and Bruce got lost in your work. He sincerely answered everything you asked.
From his favourite kind of wine to the new subdivision of the Wayne Technologies that Tim was overseeing.
You tried your hardest to ignore the way Dick’s eyes followed your every move even from the pool but it was next to impossible when you could feel his blue gaze burning holes in you.
He was playing chicken with Cass on his shoulders, Steph on Tim’s and Barbara on Jason’s.
He watched you sipping away on your iced tea and scribbling things in your notepad. He saw the way you pushed your glasses up your nose with your middle finger before tucking the loose strands of your hair behind your ears. How the sleeves of his hoodie covered your hands that you had to push it backwards to your elbows.
He watched you until Steph hit him in the face with a pool noodle and he was forced to look away.
And just when you were about to pack your stuff and leave the manor, he pulled himself out of the pool and jogged towards you.
“Hey you leaving?” He panted, shaking his wet hair like a dog.
“Yeah.”
“But weren’t you supposed to do me after Bruce?”
“Do you?” You raised an eyebrow.
“You know what I mean,” he huffed. “We decided I’d take you out for dessert. On a date.”
“Not a date,” you grumbled.
“Fine, not a date. Still, you have yet to interview me,” he added.
“Okay,” you sighed, thinking more about your job at the moment than about Dick’s stupidly infuriating face and his stupidly infuriating abs.
“Wait five minutes, I’ll take the quickest shower and I'll be back!” He called out behind him and took off running.
You sat back down on the patio chair and watched everyone else still laughing and playing in the pool.
You saw the redheaded woman who seemed a bit too familiar and tried placing where you knew her from.
It wasn’t long before you realised she was one of the girls you’d seen with Dick in one of the photos Andy showed you.
They’d been kissing on the sidewalk and suddenly you felt something bitter rise up in your throat.
She caught you looking at her before she pulled herself out of the pool and grabbed a towel and made her way towards you.
You quickly looked away, afraid of coming off as rude but she was already taking a seat in front of you that was previously occupied by Bruce.
“Hey,” she smiled and you had to admit it was a gorgeous smile. She had beautiful green eyes and freckles in the shape of stars.
“Hi,” you managed to say.
“I’m Barbara, you must be the one interviewing the Waynes?” She said with a teasing half smile.
“Yeah,” you smiled back and introduced yourself.
“Dick has told me a lot about you,” she mused.
“He has?” You asked, genuinely taken aback.
Maybe he was teaming up with his girlfriend to torment you.
“Not everyday he finds someone to put him in his place,” she chuckled.
“Oh,” you giggled. “He’s very… intense and determined.”
“Boy don’t I know it,” she sighed dramatically. “He’s like a cat. Never knows when to quit but very cute.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Please,” she scoffed. “Of course you have. I have noticed you noticing him.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t aware that you-”
“Stop,” she said. “We’re not together anymore, I’m not grilling you,” she laughed again and it was so effortlessly beautiful it eased you too.
“Well either way,” you began. “I’m not interested in him.”
“Uh huh,” she narrowed her eyes. “My dad’s a detective.”
“I’m not!”
“Okay,” she raised her hands in response but you could tell she didn’t believe you.
You opened your mouth to respond and defend yourself even more but your words got knocked out of you as you watched Dick running out of the glass doors towards you with a sweatshirt in his hands that he hadn’t managed to completely pull down his body.
“I’m back!” he announced. “Didn’t make you wait too long did I?” he asked in a muffled voice, trying to detangle the clasp of his chain from the label of his sweatshirt.
“Dick,” Barbara chastised.
“Fuck,” Dick cursed. “Don’t listen to a word she says okay?” His covered face turned towards you.
You got up from your seat and pulled him down so you could stand up on your tip toes to untangle the clasp of his damn gold chain that always made him look that much more attractive.
Your hands fidgeted with the damp hair at the nape of his neck before he finally pulled his head out of the neckline of the sweatshirt and flashed those dimples at you.
“You saved me from suffocating to death, I’d say I’m making progress.”
“You’re an idiot,” you muttered, biting your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling.
“Was that a smile?” Dick asked, standing up to his full height.
“No,” you turned away but he was quick to pull you back with a grip on your wrist.
“It was!” He beamed. “You smiled at me!”
“I did no such thing!” You argued.
“You did,” Barbara chimed in.
“Traitor,” you narrowed your eyes at her.
“Excuse me,” she sing-songed before leaving you two alone.
“You smiled at me,” Dick repeated and picked up your purse and car keys from the table.
“What are you doing?” You asked, ignoring his comment.
“What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you drive?”
“And where exactly are we going?” You asked, letting him lead you outside with a soft grip on your wrist.
“Somewhere people who aren’t on a date go,” was all he said to you until you reached your car in the driveway.
He opened the door to the passenger seat for you and looked as you raised your brows at him before finally shutting it behind you.
He took the driver’s seat and you internally groaned again when he put the car in reverse.
His arm came to rest on the backrest of your seat as he stretched his upper body to look behind.
A wave of deja vu hit you except you were completely sober this time.
It was much more impactful.
The fresh scent of citrus soap clinging to his skin, his damp hair smelling of expensive shampoo, curling just behind his ears.
The vein in his neck made an appearance again, causing you to close your eyes and hiss.
“Something wrong?” Dick frowned.
“Nope,” you muttered and looked outside the window for the rest of the car ride.
Dick didn’t really speak, nor did you. You turned on the radio to put some sort of noise in the car so it wouldn’t feel as awkward as it did.
Just a few minutes later, he was pulling up outside of a small gelato shop.
You went to unbuckle your seatbelt but Dick was quick to stop you with a hand over yours.
“Wait here,” he said and got out of the car.
Five minutes later he came back with two cups of gelato in one hand while the other held a brown packet. He quickly slid inside the car and rested the gelato in the cup holders.
“What if I were lactose intolerant?” You asked.
“Oh shoot, I’ll go get the non-”
“Relax, I’m not,” you chuckled.
“Second time you’ve smiled around me today, are you feeling okay?” Dick asked, pulling the car onto the road.
“Yep,” you nodded, a smile making its way onto your lips despite you trying to bite it back.
He looked at you from the corner of his eye and mirrored your smile.
Moments later, he was pulling up outside the park.
He walked over to your side of the car and opened the door for you to step outside. You picked up your gelatos while Dick carried your bag and keys.
“Robinson park? Really?” You asked.
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “It’s close to your apartment so you won’t even have to rush our interview.”
“How do you know where my apartment is?”
Dick froze for a second but quickly recovered. He wasn’t about to tell you that Nightwing had been tailing you to make sure you got home safely and for no other reason at all without coming off as a creep.
“You mentioned it,” he simply replied.
“I did?” You furrowed your brows in confusion but followed him anyway.
“You won’t even have to worry about getting home late to your cat.”
“Oh speaking of sparkles!” You said and pulled your phone out to send a quick message to your neighbour to remind her to feed your cat.
“Sparkles?” Dick asked and took a seat on the bench, patting it next to him for you to sit down. “Wasn’t your cat called Meow-wing?”
You sat down next to him and handed him his gelato before leaning back on the bench.
You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the mention of Nightwing.
“That was before I knew how much of a dick Nightwing is.”
“He… What?”
“Oops sorry. Didn’t mean to use your name as an insult,” you replied.
“No, I mean what did he do?” Dick asked and sat up straight.
You ate your gelato as slowly as you could in response and tried to come up with something that didn’t involve telling him about your nightly activities.
“He’s just… rude.”
“He’s the nicest of them all!” Dick argued. “At least that's what I’ve heard.”
“You’ve heard wrong, he’s a jackass and I never want to see his face again, much less name my beloved Sparkles after him. He hasn’t yet learned his new name and only responds to Meow-wing but I’ll teach him!” You firmly replied and Dick went silent for the next few minutes.
“Anyway, Mr. Grayson,” you let out a long sigh and pulled out your notepad and tape recorder. “Time for work.”
“Such a beautiful day don’t you agree?” Dick took a deep breath and leaned back on the bench, stretching his arm behind you on the backrest.
“Yeah,” you replied, not really paying attention to him.
“Perfect day for a date some people might even say,” he mused.
“Some people might,” you replied. “Some other people have work.”
“Some people should try to enjoy themselves,” he retorted.
“Some people should shov-”
meow.
You paused and looked at the cat currently head butting your shin.
“Aw hello,” you cooed and picked it up. “And who are you?” you looked for the collar on the cat to read the name but it didn’t have one.
“Are you a stray?” You cooed again and scratched the cat’s head with your free hand. “Isn’t she so cute Dick, look.”
“She is,” Dick murmured from behind you, leaning closer to you now that his chest was touching your shoulder as he looked at the little furball in your lap.
“Hey,” he said in a soft voice right next to your ear and scratched below the cat’s face.
You squirmed in your seat at his proximity and tried to regulate your breathing but failed tremendously. You turned your head towards Dick who was a hair width away from you.
His eyes landed on your mouth before going back up to your eyes with a hint of question in them.
The feeling of his arm still stretched across your lap to touch the cat was causing your whole body to heat up.
Your lips parted and he swallowed thickly, making your eyes go down to his adam’s apple before you looked up at him again through your lashes.
“There you are!” Someone yelled, causing the moment to break and you and Dick to move apart like magnets of the same pole.
You turned back towards the cat in your arms and saw a middle aged woman now standing next to your bench.
“So sorry! She has a habit of running away,” she apologised with a small smile.
“That’s okay, she’s really cute,” you smiled back and handed the cat to the lady.
“Enjoy the rest of your date!” She beamed before walking away.
“It's not a… date…” you sighed.
“Even strangers know we have chemistry,” Dick teased.
“I’m wearing your clothes, it's an honest mistake,” you replied and shifted back, pulling your feet on the bench so you could rest the notebook on your knees. “I’m turning the recorder on, get serious.”
“Yes ma’am,” he gave you a salute.
“Okay Richard, your father basically runs Gotham but you don’t have any real interest in working at Wayne Enterprises, is there a particular reason why or?”
“I’m not against it, I do come by once a week and do some work but truthfully it’s not something that’s ever interested me. I have half of my life in Blüdhaven and I oversee a lot of things there. Work with a lot of charities and foundations. I don’t think corporate life is for me.”
You nodded along and wrote down important points.
“Is there anything you’d like to share about the charity work that you do?”
“Well right now, we’re building a youth center. There’s always gangs and they recruit young people, teenagers. If we can prevent that from happening it’s always a good idea.”
You watched in awe as he went on, talking about how he could’ve been one of those kids if Bruce hadn’t taken him in. How much he cares about the children, especially the troubled orphan youth because he could relate to them.
Something in your heart tugged at his words. This was the Dick who was kind and sweet and not what he put on as a show. He cared about everyone, he was smart and he was putting his trust fund money to good use.
You thought about the child in the photo you saw today. Wearing a red and green bodysuit and smiling the widest smile with broken front teeth. Maybe that's who he saw too, every time he looked at another orphaned child.
He talked more about the animal shelter he sometimes volunteers at because he loves animals; especially dogs.
About the Pennyworth foundation and how he uses it to help Blüdhaven in any way he can so it can rise above the reputation it had gained as Gotham’s uglier sister.
He talked about Blüdhaven with so much sincerity in his voice that you could tell he genuinely loved that city and was actually trying to make a difference.
You thought about your own situation in stark comparison. How you hadn’t cared about which city you were born in and were ready to move for a good paying job.
Maybe that was the difference between you and him; he could afford to do that.
“Thank you,” you said earnestly after almost an hour and turned your tape recorder off. “I do admit it went better than it could have gone over email.”
“I don’t want to say I told you so but…” he raised his hands and watched you pack up your stuff.
“And I don’t want to admit you were right so let's leave it at that,” you quipped.
“You’re welcome,” he chuckled and got up from the bench, offering you his hand.
You looked at him in confusion but put your hand in his anyway. He quickly laced your fingers together and tried to not let his whole body shut down.
The two of you began walking in the direction of your car and you had to admit, you were grateful for Dick’s hoodie. The sun was just about to go down and it had gotten much cooler than it was during the day. You could not have survived in your dress.
“The next time I see Nightwing, I’ll fight him for your honour,” Dick said.
“Sure,” you huffed out a laugh. “Your pretty boy looks might work on the ladies but I think he’d be a bit tougher to fight.”
“Pretty boy?” He raised an eyebrow and looked at you from the corner of his eye.
“Like you didn’t already know.”
“I did,” he nodded and rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand. “Still better to hear it from you.”
“Well this is me,” you said once you two reached your car. “Do you want me to drop you off at the manor or?”
“I’ll manage,” he replied instead.
“Okay… um be safe,” you said suddenly feeling extremely shy despite the fact that you had quite literally seen this man sporting a boner for you mere hours ago.
“You too,” he murmured but didn’t let go of your hand.
“Thank you for our non-date. It was everything and more,” you joked.
“Yeah,” he smiled but you could tell he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying.
“Dick?”
“Hmm?” He hummed and stepped closer
“I need my hand to you know… drive,” you breathed.
“Drive safe,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to your cheek, way too close to your lips before letting you go.
“I’ll see you,” you managed to reply and quickly got into your car so you could drive as far away from Dick Grayson as possible.
as you can probably tell i gave up on editing by the second half but bear with me!!!! its hard to get back into writing
babs might be ooc i almost wrote about her x reader bc i genuinely cannot say anything about bad about her. we stan barbara gordon here!
alsoo wanted to add stuff from the current dan watters’ nightwing run but didn’t wanna spoil it for anyoneee so if you see similar themes, its inspired by that a bit :)
likes reblogs and comments are appreciated hope you enjoy! <3
jason todd x f!reader, drugs, making out, suggestive
You were in the backyard of the manor with your boyfriend, his siblings, and a few of their friends, sitting in a circle around the bonfire.
You were perched comfortably on your boyfriend’s lap who currently had a joint in his hand while the other resting underneath your shirt on your belly.
It wasn’t unusual for Jason to smoke –in fact you were quite used to him smoking in your shared apartment’s fire escape. You even smoked with him once, though it had only managed to make you cough up the bitter taste and you never tried it again. You did eat edibles with him –on rare occasions when he chose to forgo the usual blunt and eat a hash brownie instead.
What surprised you was that Dick, Tim, Wally, Roy and even Barbara (who only took a drag) smoked. Jason had told you they only ever smoked weed and that too on rare occasions.
Bruce being out of Gotham on a mission and leaving the manor to his kids while Alfred accompanied him just gave them an open opportunity. Not that Bruce minded or they’d even listen if he did.
The martinis you had been sipping on –that Barbara had prepared for herself, Cass, Steph and you– were beginning to make your eyes feel heavy.
You took a sip and leaned back against Jason, resting your head in the crook of his neck where you could smell his cologne that you got him for christmas.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his head rest on top of yours as he took another lazy drag.
“Pizza’s here, who’s getting it?” Tim asked, glancing at his phone.
All of them said Damian’s name in unison.
“You’re the youngest that’s the rule,” Dick chuckled and held his hand out for Jason to pass the blunt to him.
Damian huffed and stood up, making his way inside the manor to get the pizza.
“Jay, I wanna try,” you said, watching Dick smoke a drag and pass the joint to Roy.
He looked at you for a beat too long as you stared back into his blue-green eyes, perfectly framed with long black lashes and currently shaded with redness.
“Let’s try something,” he murmured, “Come here.”
He cupped your cheek with one large hand and took a long drag with another, holding it in while rubbing his thumb on your lower lip as a gesture for you to open your mouth.
You had seen and read about shotgun kisses multiple times in your life but had never tried it and the thought of an audience being present around you while he transferred smoke in your mouth was enough to make you blush and rethink your proposal.
But one look around the circle made you realise that no one was looking at your way.
You obliged and opened your mouth, letting Jason lean down and blow the smoke directly into your mouth and before you had the chance to cough, he sealed his lips against yours.
His other hand traveled to your waist as he sucked in a harsh breath and pulled you even closer to him until your chest was pressed against his.
The weed was already getting to his head because he always got just a bit more clingy and horny every time he got high.
You were guessing the joint was now in someone else’s hand because Jason was holding you with one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head, pulling you in. Like he would combust if he didn’t have a death grip on your whole body.
He let out a shaky breath as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, making them part. He took the opportunity and shoved his tongue in your mouth, rubbing against your own and your lower lip, making you let out quiet whimpers.
You felt his sharp teeth tug at your bottom lip and bite enough to draw blood before he licked it clean. You gasped and felt Jason’s lips curl into the kiss like he was enjoying this way too much. You grasped his bicep, digging your nails as if to ground yourself while he devoured your mouth like he would die if he stopped.
Behind Jason, you heard Dick let out a whistle. “It’s those damn shotgun kisses I’m telling you,” he commented, making Steph laugh loudly before you felt something soft hit the side of your head.
“Jason let the poor girl breathe,” Roy huffed out a laugh but Jason didn’t budge, only kissing you harder as if to prove a point.
“Jay!” Cass snickered as you felt yet another marshmallow hit your head.
You pulled away from Jason but he leaned forward as if he could catch your lips with his again but you put a finger on his lips, backing him away. His mouth red, swollen and glistening. His cheeks flushed red while his hair looked tousled like he had just gotten out of bed.
“Thanks for the free porn Jason,” Tim commented, throwing more marshmallows at Jason’s head.
“Thought I’d do you service since you don’t get any,” Jason replied, giving Tim a tight smile.
Beside him, you were still flustered. You were doing your best to hide your face in his shoulder because Jason wasn’t big on pda, he barely even kissed you when out in public so this surprised you to say the least.
“What’s wrong?” Jason checked, looking down at you when everyone else once again got busy with their conversation.
“Nothing,” you replied.
He put his finger under your chin, making you look up into his eyes that were filled with amusement. “Are you blushing?”
“Stop,” you huffed, pushing his face away, making him snicker.
“Babe it’s okay, I’ve walked in on Dick and Babs multiple times. He really doesn’t care where he is it’s horrible.”
“I’m fine promise,” you replied. “I just wish we were alone right now,” you murmured, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“We can go upstairs, my childhood bedroom has a really sturdy bed believe me,” he offered with a wink that shouldn’t have been as attractive as he made it look.
“No you freak,” you giggled, flicking his forehead.
“I have a situation, help me out here,” he groaned lightly and shifted in his seat to make you feel the situation he was talking about.
“Jason!” You hushed, covering his mouth with your palm.
He chucked again as you felt him kiss the palm of your hand before you pulled away and another joint miraculously made its way into Jason’s hand.
You rested your head ln his shoulder while he held your waist with one hand and brought the joint up to his lips with the other, taking a drag.
You stared at his perfect side profile, his button nose, his rose coloured lips, his deep eyes that you could drown in, his beautiful tuft of white hair that you brushed away from his face every morning because it had got long enough for him to scrunch up his nose as the strands tickled him.
You wanted to groan at how pretty he was.
You looked even closely at the freckles dusting his nose and cheekbones. You loved tracing them with your eyes, drawing constellations out of them every time he fell asleep with his head on your lap. You loved pressing light kisses on the little heart shaped freckle that was right below his lower lip.
You let out a sigh, making Jason look at you with a raised eyebrow.
“Do you want more?” He asked.
“No,” you replied, still feeling flushed.
He kissed your forehead and went back to the conversation he was having with his brothers.
“On second thought,” you began and he looked at you again.
“Let’s go see how sturdy your twin bed really is.”
You did not have to tell him twice.
made some changes in this one so if you’ve read it before, shhhh
likes comments and reblogs appreciated! hope you enjoy <3
dick grayson x reader fluff, non sexual showering, language, suggestive
The steam from the shower wafted around you, creating a fog that you couldn’t see through. With closed eyes and your head tipped back, you let the hot water cascade down your tired body, making you let out a soothing sigh.
“Hi,” you heard Dick say. He peeked his head through the shower curtain next and looked at your blurred figure.
“Hi?” You replied, opening one eye to look at the shit eating grin on his face.
“Can I join you?” He asked with a smile he reserved for when he was trying to seduce you.
“Sure,” you replied and backed away a bit, making room for him.
He pulled the shower curtain back, revealing his already naked body like he wouldn’t have cared if you said no or maybe he just knew you too well and had known you wouldn’t turn him down.
His sweet grin turned into a full blown yelp the second he stepped under the shower. He jumped back and almost hit his head on the wall, making you let out a laugh.
“What the fuck!” He bellowed.
“What?”
“You practicing for going to hell or something?” He questioned. “The water is fucking boiling.”
“Don’t be dramatic its fine,” you rolled your eyes.
“Turn it down,” he said, firmly.
“No, you can leave,” you offered.
“I’m already wet I don’t want to leave please turn it down just a bit angel, you’re literally red right now,” he coaxed.
“Fine,” you huffed and turned the shower knob to the right to make the water a bit cooler.
“Thank you,” Dick said and stepped under the spray of the water –still wincing, and put his hands on your waist.
“Good?” You checked.
“Manageable,” he grumbled, grabbing your shampoo from the shelf. “This isn’t healthy.”
“Your face isn’t healthy,” you replied, sticking your tongue out at him.
“Is that why you keep sitting on it?” he smirked, earning a smack to his chest in response.
He squeezed some of the shampoo on your palm and leaned his head down, gesturing for you to rub it in his hair.
“Your hair is getting long,” you murmured, rubbing your fingers through his scalp.
“Do you want me to cut it?” he said softly, too busy moaning at the way your hands moved through his hair.
“No I like it like this,” you replied, gripping the inky black hair in your palms.
“Freak,” he chuckled standing to his full height.
“I didn’t even say anything!” You protested, closing your eyes shut when Dick began rubbing the shampoo in your hair.
You felt him kiss your forehead, each of your closed eyelids, your nose then finally your lips before he rested his head on your shoulder, letting out a soft hum.
You grabbed your lavender scented body wash –that he loved an unhealthy amount, and began rubbing it on his back while he hummed in response and planted kisses on your shoulder and collarbone and wherever his lips could reach.
“I love when you don’t have work,” he mumbled. “Quit your job.”
“So you can be stuck to me like a koala all the time?”
“Mhmm,” he let out, planting one last kiss on your jaw before straightening.
“Tempting,” you smiled.
“I can offer you many services,” he almost whispered, planting kiss after kiss on the side of your throat, your collarbones and your jaw.
“Is this why you crashed my shower,” you mused, gripping his hair.
“Maybe,” he smirked, tracing his fingers down your spine.
“Dick,” you whispered, your hand finding the tap behind him in an attempt to turn the water a bit warmer without him noticing.
“Tell me what you want,” he said in a husky voice laced with need, continuing his attack on your neck.
“FUCK!” he screamed and jumped back again, glaring at you.
“Get back here!” You protested when you saw him get out of the shower and grab his towel to wrap around his waist.
“You’re a demon!” He yelled.
“Dick come on! I’m sorry,” you giggled turning the shower off and wrapped a towel around your torso, following him towards the sink.
“Just for that, you’re not getting anything for a week,” he huffed.
“Like you can go that long without touching me,” you challenged.
“Don’t test me,” he narrowed his eyes and turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” You asked.
“To get dressed?” He offered like it was the most natural thing.
“Do you not moisturise after you shower?”
“Uh no?”
“You heathen! Come back here,” you ordered and like the obedient boyfriend he was, he made his way back to you.
“Is this necessary,” he asked when he saw you pump some pink body lotion on your palm.
“Yes! Hot water dries your skin,” you replied, rubbing it over his hard chest and abs.
“You just wanna feel me up,” he smirked and looked down at you.
“I wouldn’t need an excuse for that,” you replied, rubbing the lotion on his biceps. “You’re so large, I use all that for both of my legs.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No but-”
“That’s what I thought,” he smiled again and took the body lotion from you, grabbing the edge of the towel to unwrap it from your body.
“My turn.”
HES SO!!! hes so!!! SO!!!!
likes comments and reblogs are appreciated, hope you enjoy <3
