charlotte, she/her, 20 ⋆˙⟡
↠ daydreaming about cowboys. considering writing something. reading batman comics. buying more video games. brewing a cup of tea. listening to lord huron. wrangling curly hair. doodling in notebooks. waiting for my soulmate.
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↠ rainsoaked — robert robertson
↠ sweater weather — dick grayson
↠ lover's lookout — dick grayson
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↠ beautifully human — connor (rk800)
↠ lover's lookout — dick grayson
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rainsoaked ⋆˙⟡
↠ driving on a rainy day, you don't notice the poor guy walking to work. or the massive puddle that you splash him with.
robert robertson x gn!reader | 1.9k words 𐚁₊⊹
↠ contains; swearing. probably very ooc robert. not proofread.
↠ robert robertson masterlist. masterlist.
By Los Angeles standards, rain was nothing but a faint drizzle that lasted all of thirty minutes. It was enough to ruin morning traffic, but never enough to ruin a perfect day. The second those thirty minutes were over, the Santa Ana winds could come billowing through, gentle gusts sweeping the rain clouds away. And like it never left, the sun would return bright as ever. That was the usual Los Angeles experience, no matter the season.
But every now and then, a rainy day would come that didn’t follow the typical routine. The rain would come pelting down in thick sheets, coating everything in a dense layer of grey. On a day like that, the rain would persist for hours, never once letting up.
Today just happened to be a day like that. And it was just your luck that it happened the same day as your job interview.
Against the steady beat of your windshield wipers, you cursed your frizzy hair and rain-splotched clothes. You had hoped that blasting your car’s heater would miraculously alleviate these problems, but every time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the rearview mirror, you looked exactly like the anxious, disheveled mess you were trying to avoid.
Maybe this was fixable. You didn’t carry a travel-sized hairspray bottle for nothing.
Reaching to the passenger seat, you rifled through your bag desperately. Wallet, keys, headphones, keys again, lip balm. Your fingers passed over everything that wasn’t your hairspray. You stole a glance inside your bag, immediately spotting that familiar blue bottle. Stupid thing, how did it escape your grasp?
Had you not been so panicked over this interview, you would’ve been more focused on the road ahead of you. But stress was the only thing on your mind. That was how you failed to notice the lake-sized puddle on the side of the road.
Driving straight through it, you sent a tidal wave crashing down onto the sidewalk. You would’ve laughed it off as a silly mistake if it wasn’t for the poor guy you’d accidentally drenched from head to toe.
As you pulled over, your stress quickly abandoned you to make room for your newfound guilt. You scrambled out of your car, desperate to apologize to your unlucky victim.
“Just my luck. Jesus Christ…,” he grumbled, tugging at his soaked hoodie uselessly. “Fucker’s never heard of human decency—”
“I’m so sorry, that was totally my fault!” you cried over his muttering.
“Well, yeah, it’s not my fault,” he continued in that sharp, rumbling tone. “So, obviously…”
His irritation dampened as he forgot his wet clothes and met your gaze. Your big, blinking eyes stared at him with concern, the kind of compassion that was unfamiliar to him.
He stared back at you in surprise, taken aback by the pretty face in front of him. You definitely weren’t the obnoxious asshole he was expecting to see.
“Sorry…,” he said— softer than before— as his eyes trailed you up and down. “That… was rude.”
“No, no! Don’t apologize. Fuck, I’d be angry too if some idiot splashed me,” you assured him. “I… yeah. That really sucked. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. Really, there was no way he could be angry with a gorgeous thing like you. “Good thing about water is it dries, right?”
There was something mischievous in his warm gaze that eased your worries. You laughed softly, matching his small, conspiratorial grin.
“Yeah, good thing…,” you mumbled. “So… I take it that means you’re not the Wicked Witch?”
“Thankfully, no,” he affirmed with a quiet, breathless laugh. “No risk of melting here.”
“Great. Glad to know I’m not guilty of homicide. But if you’re not the Wicked Witch, who are you?”
“Robert,” he answered, extending a hand to you.
Normally, you wouldn’t hesitate to shake hands with an attractive man whose voice alone made your cheeks warm. The only thing that stopped you now was his hand, drenched in water.
You must’ve made a face because Robert quickly pulled his hand away, muttering, “Oh, shit. Yeah, that’s gross.”
“No, no, it’s only fair,” you said as you stuck your hand out. “I hit you with a fucking tsunami, I can handle a little water.”
Robert’s gaze flicked between your hand and face, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn’t, he took your hand and shook it gently. You gave him your name, and he repeated it softly under his breath, like a secret he’d take to his grave.
“Under different circumstances, I’d say it’s nice to meet you,” Robert said before gesturing to his sopping hoodie. But, uh…”
Despite his teasing stare, you groaned loudly and hid your face in embarrassment. No matter how many times Robert reassured you it was okay, you couldn’t help but feel guilty.
“I really am sorry.”
“It’s fine. Most of this is probably from walking in the rain anyway. That’s what I get for not owning an umbrella. I promise, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. Let me make it up to you. Please?”
Robert’s eyes went wide, a faint blush melting into the freckles on his cheeks. He hated that the first thing to come to mind was a stupid, dirty joke. He hated it even more that he was saying it out loud, to a complete stranger– a very beautiful stranger who would definitely think less of him for it.
“What’re you thinking? ‘cause right now it sounds like you’re offering head, and I usually don’t go there until, like–”
“Jesus, no!” you cried, shoving Robet’s shoulder like he was a longtime friend. “I’m not sucking your dick ‘cause you’re stupid enough to walk in the rain!”
“Woah, hey, I thought you were the idiot in this scenario.”
You stared at Robert with mock offense, and for a total of one second, he believed it. He looked ready to ramble out an apology before you both started to laugh, your warm breaths curling together into the cool morning air.
“How about I give you a ride to… wherever you’re going?” you suggested.
“You don’t need to–”
“Please? It would ease my conscience.”
“Oh, right, ‘cause this is for your benefit, not mine?”
“Exactly.”
“Alright… sure. If it’ll make you feel like a good person again.”
You flashed Robert a bright grin before scampering back to your car, trying (and failing) to avoid the rain that had already dampened your hair. You really didn’t need to look any worse for this job interview.
A job interview that you would most definitely be late to.
You had been so distracted by Robert that you had completely forgotten about your interview. Considering it had been stressing you out the entire morning, you didn’t understand how that was possible. But there was something about Robert that had you absolutely infatuated, enough to make you forget everything but him. You blamed his adorable, freckled cheeks.
Huffing, you clambered back into your car and accepted another failed job interview. Maybe– if you explained your reasons– they’d accept your tardiness. Even welcome it, see it as a good thing! They’d want kind, helpful employees, wouldn’t they? Yeah, like that was going to happen… you doubted they wanted someone with shitty time management skills.
“Okay, where to?” you asked Robert as he settled into the passenger seat.
“It’s not far, just… straight ahead. I’ll let you know when to turn.”
Just like he promised, it wasn’t far at all. The drive was short, almost shorter than you wanted. You found that you liked talking to Robert whose dry remarks kept stealing laughs from you.
The only benefit of the short ride was your growing optimism. You might actually make this interview. Coincidentally, Robert was heading in the exact same direction you were.
Like… the exact same.
Pulling into the parking lot, you stared up at the SDN office with what might easily be mistaken for awe. Robert assumed it was, at least. With your wide eyes and gaping mouth, he supposed not everyone was used to superheroes flying in and out of an office building.
Robert would’ve found your expression amusing– cute, even– if it wasn’t for your silence that suddenly made him feel awkward.
“You… work at SDN?” you asked after a long– too long– pause.
“Yeah. Torrance’s finest dispatcher.”
Robert had tried to get a laugh out of you, even if it was a terrible joke. If it could even be considered a joke… He was desperate to hear that laugh again. He wouldn’t admit it to someone he quite literally just met (should he?), but your laughter was sweeter than an angels’ choir.
But instead of a laugh, all you said was, “Huh.”
You had quite the refined vocabulary.
Robert waited for you to say something else. Anything else. He would’ve appreciated a “You’re really cute, can I get your number before you go?” but he’d take a “You’re getting the seat wet, get out.” Anything but this confusing silent-but-not-quite-silent silence.
“Well, uh… thanks for the ride.”
“Yeah…”
Yup. Super refined vocabulary.
You could’ve offered a better farewell if you weren’t so entranced by the meaning of the universe and the potential existence of fate. Was your life destined to be intertwined with Robert’s, a dork you just met but nonetheless felt enchanted by?
When you finally brushed things off as a coincidence– deciding you were acting way too crazy over a complete stranger– Robert had already left. He was already walking to SDN’s front door, albeit at the slowest pace imaginable.
You fumbled out of your car, quickly closing the car door behind you. The sound was enough to make him glance back. Maybe you were crazy, but he looked oddly hopeful.
He watched with narrowed eyes as you approached him. When you were close enough, he turned to face you and said, “Don’t tell me I accidentally got into a stalker’s car.”
“What?” You blinked at him, confused, before remembering he hadn’t come to the same “I make my own decisions, this is coincidence, not fate” conclusion you had. “Oh… oh, no. I swear I’m not creepily following you.”
“Right…,” Robert murmured, raising a brow in question.
From his expression, you could tell he would believe his explanation until he heard a better one.
“I have a job interview,” you explained. “Here. At SDN. With Blonde Blazer.”
“Oh, shit. That’s… a coincidence.”
You were grateful that Robert agreed with your coincidence conclusion. You sighed a relieved, “Yeah…”
“Well, I won’t tell Blazer you like to get people wet,” Robert promised.
You pressed your lips into a thin line, stifling a laugh. As you blinked at Robert– waiting for him to realize the innuendo in his words– your face warmed, hot enough to fight off the chill of the rain. When he saw your face, Robert was quick to realize the error in his words, frantically trying to fix it.
“That… fuck. That came out wrong,” he grumbled over your soft laughter, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Maybe don’t say that to Blazer,” you chuckled. “I don’t need to be reported to HR before I even get the job.”
“With the shit I’ve heard, I don’t even think we have an HR department,” Robert grumbled as he placed a steady hand on your back.
Gently, he guided you inside, safe from the pouring rain. Not that it did much. By now, you were both drenched to the bone. At least you weren’t the only rainsoaked mess in the building.
Glancing at the time, you were shocked that– somehow, after all that– you still weren’t late for your interview. As long as you hustled in the next three minutes, you’d actually make it on time.
“I’m gonna–”
“Right, yeah, go to your interview,” Robert said knowingly. “Good luck. I’ll see you around here. Hopefully.”
“Yeah,” you grinned. “Hopefully.”
author's note ⋆˙⟡
↠ i've been working on this fic for so long now, i just wanna post it and be done with it. writing robert is way harder than it needs to be... that being said i'm kinda wondering if i should do a pt 2 with reader's interview??
sweater weather ⋆˙⟡
↠ dick just wanted to have lunch with his best friend. he didn't expect you to show up in some other guy's sweatshirt.
bsf!dick grayson x gn!reader | 2.2k words 𐚁₊⊹
↠ contains. a single swear word. lowkey ooc dick grayson. my "i'm tired but need to satisfy the masses" writing.
↠ dick grayson masterlist. masterlist.
When it came to your best friend, you were ready to change plans at a moment’s notice. It didn’t matter what your plans were for the day, you would gladly give them up if it meant spending time with Dick.
It wasn’t very often that you got to see him. With your hectic work schedule and his nightly galavanting, there was rarely any time for the two of you to hang out. So when he texted asking if you wanted to grab lunch at your favorite diner, you were eager to abandon your afternoon plans.
Wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, you walked briskly in an admirable attempt to fight the autumn chill. At least, that’s what you convinced yourself. You refused to believe that your pace was just out of pure excitement. Even though it would explain how you made it to the park– where Dick agreed to meet you so that you could walk together– in record time.
You (miraculously) managed to slow your speed when you spotted Dick, looking as relaxed as ever. With his arm tossed across the back of the bench, he chuckled to himself, all his attention consumed by two dogs running circles around each other. From this far, you couldn’t hear his laugh, but you knew it was the soft, breathless kind, the one saved for quiet moments. It was such a pretty laugh, one that came from an equally pretty boy.
No.
You despised that your thoughts had wandered in that direction– he was your best friend for Christ’s sake!– but it was pointless to fight it. Not when he looked so perfect; how could someone even look so good in just a sweatshirt and jeans?
You were sure that those cursed dimples had something to do with it. Those stupid dimples made everything he did unnecessarily attractive.
Before you could get distracted by his hair– perfect for running your fingers through– Dick turned to you. Immediately, those adorable dimples were back as his face split into the biggest grin you’d ever seen. You matched his bright beam as he approached, just happy to be back in his presence (even if he was looking nefariously good).
“Hey!” he greeted cheerfully, his hands already moving to hold your biceps in a way that was totally, most definitely only platonic. “It’s so good to see you, I missed–”
Dick paused, dimples disappearing (to your joy or disappointment, you weren’t sure). His brows pinched in confusion, head tilting in a way that only a dog and Dick Grayson could make endearing.
“What?” you asked, following his eyes to your sweatshirt.
He tugged at the sleeves curiously, noting just how baggy it was on you. It wasn’t like it was anything particularly noteworthy. Just a ratty blue sweatshirt with a faded GOTHAM UNIVERSITY NIGHTHAWKS across the chest. It was kind of cute, actually, in a borrowed-this-from-my-dad kind of way. You couldn’t understand why Dick was so confused.
“This is new,” Dick said flatly, like it was obvious.
Your brows furrowed to copy his expression. You wondered if Dick had memorized every article of clothing in your wardrobe. The curse of being a trained observer, surely.
“Oh, well, it’s not mine,” you answered with a shrug.
Dick met your gaze incredulously, like it was absolutely baffling that this sweatshirt might belong to someone else. “Whose is it?”
“My coworker’s. I’m just borrowing it.”
Dick relaxed, his unexplained stress fading.
“Yeah, he gave it to me because I forgot my jacket–”
“He?” Dick sputtered, trying to hide the return of his confusion under a cough.
It was an internal battle to keep the smile from your lips. You didn’t need to be the world’s greatest detective to hear the jealousy in Dick’s voice. Maybe you were a little crazy, but it filled you with pride that he would get so worked up over these things.
“Um… yeah,” you continued. “We were getting coffee, and–”
“Just the two of you?”
“Yeah, I mean, we just ran into each other. We weren’t, like… on a date or anything.”
The fight to keep the smile from your lips only worsened when Dick mumbled a relieved, “Thank God.”
Really, it was terrible how giddy you were over Dick’s jealousy. You had to remind yourself that this was your best friend you were thinking about, nothing more. It wasn’t like he would ever want to be anything more than friends. No, of course not. All of this was completely normal best friend behavior.
All the times he brushed your hair behind your ear? Normal! The nights he’d give you a soothing shoulder massage after a particularly long day at work? Super normal! Accidentally introducing you as his girlfriend to his brothers? The most normal thing ever!
“Wait,” Dick frowned. “So this guy gave you his sweatshirt just because you forgot a jacket?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He’s not an asshole, Dick.”
“Okay, but that’s weird. That’s weird, right? Like, you barely know the dude.”
“I dunno, it seemed harmless. I said I was fine, but he insisted, said he had another one in his car. So I took it. Thought it was better than freezing to death.”
Dick pursed his lips into a grumpy pout, completely dissatisfied with your logic. What, did he want you to freeze to death?
“Come on,” he said, trying to force the cheeriness back into his voice as he moved . “Let’s just eat, I’m starving.”
His hand hovered over your lower back, refusing to touch you as if your sweatshirt– no, your coworker’s sweatshirt– might burn him. You walked in what would’ve seemed like companionable silence, but you knew better. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Dick closely; it was just like him to get all quiet when he was upset, especially over something he couldn’t fix with an easy smile and charming words.
You let the silence simmer as the two of you walked through the park. You hoped that after some thought, Dick might share what was bothering him so much about this stupid sweatshirt. But no. He remained stubbornly silent, his brows furrowed like he was working out the most complicated equation he’d ever come across.
“Dick,” you muttered. His gaze snapped to you, eyes suddenly wide and wondering; he would never look at you with the same scorn he did the sweatshirt. “What’s up with you? Why are you being so weird?”
“I’m not being weird,” he answered defensively. “What’s weird is that this guy–”
“Dick. If you say it’s weird that he gave me his sweatshirt, I’m going to strangle you.”
And like the smart man he was, Dick shut up.
“Are you really this upset over a dumb sweatshirt?”
“What? No, of course not.” Lying through his teeth. “Why would I be upset about a sweatshirt? It’s just a sweatshirt! I mean, I don’t want you to freeze to death either, so… it’s good that you have it!”
“Why do you even try lying?”
“I’m not lying!”
“Richard.”
Again, Dick pursed his lips but not with the same pout. This time, he pursed them in the way he always did when he was caught in a lie. Not that you needed his failed attempt at a poker face to prove it.
You watched him expectantly, impatiently awaiting the truth with raised brows. Dick just stared back like he could will this conversation to end. It was stubborn against stubborn; thankfully, you always won these tests of will. Finally, Dick caved.
“Okay, okay. It just… it’s a tacky sweatshirt. That’s all. It fits weird, the color’s ugly…” Suddenly, Dick was overtaken by panic, thinking he might have insulted you. And when he panicked, he rambled. “Not on you though! No, I mean, you make it look great, obviously, you make everything look great… I’m just saying there are better sweatshirt options. You should give this one back immediately.”
“Okay, so I should ask my coworker for a different sweatshirt.”
Dick was far too distraught to see the teasing glint in your eyes.
“No! God, no,” he blurted. He paused to consider his next words carefully, as if he hadn’t made his jealousy obvious to everyone within a mile radius. “I just mean… if this is the sweatshirt he gave you, he probably has bad taste in sweatshirts. I bet they’re all ugly.”
“Right… So whose sweatshirt should I wear?”
“Whose? No, I… that’s not what I’m saying,” Dick sputtered, his laugh nervous like you’d never heard before. “It doesn’t matter whose sweatshirt you wear, just… don’t wear his. Because they’re ugly! Not because they’re his!”
At this point, you wanted to grab Dick by the shoulders and shake him until the truth rattled its way out of him. The actual truth, not the lies of a bumbling idiot. A very loveable idiot but an idiot none the less.
Your patience was starting to wear thin. Apparently, Dick would rather look stupid than admit the truth of how he really felt. So be it. The only solution would be to call him out on his bullshit, point-blank.
“Should I wear your sweatshirt?”
Dick faltered, clearly not expecting to be asked so openly. He was so used to being the confident one that it surprised him when someone else was. But it was different with you. You made him nervous, made him fumble over his words like it was his first time speaking English. If it wasn’t for the butterflies in his stomach every time he saw you, he wouldn’t be able to explain where his confidence went when he was with you.
“That’d… be cool,” Dick murmured slowly. “I think my sweatshirts would look great on you.”
“Well, you’ve never offered me yours, so–”
Before you could finish your sentence, Dick yanked his sweatshirt over his head and held it out to you, his hair sticking up every which way. You blinked up at him, too surprised to say anything. He stared back expectantly, waiting for you to take his sweatshirt from his hand. When you didn’t, he extended it out further to you as if the offer hadn’t been obvious.
The two of you continued to stand in silence, both struggling to find words. You managed to gather yours before him, the teasing quick to find your lips.
“I already have one. Thanks though!”
Dick knew you well enough to know you were only goading him; still, he paused for a second, worried that he had misinterpreted the situation. When his worry subsided, he stepped closer to you until there was only a hair’s distance between you. He tugged at the bottom of your sweatshirt, carefully pulling it up.
It wasn’t with the same haste and carelessness as when he took off his own sweatshirt. This time, he was slow and gentle like he might scare you off if he was any faster. His fingers delicately brushed your sides as he lifted higher; even through your shirt, you could feel the warmth of his skin, seeping into your own.
Dick’s hands traced along your arms, guiding them free of the sleeves. He pulled the sweatshirt over your head, slipping his on instead. With his on– feeling much comfier than before– his hands immediately went to your hair, smoothing it back into place. You let him brush it to his heart’s content, too busy burying your nose in his sweatshirt’s collar and inhaling his scent to mind him.
“Much better,” Dick decided with a satisfied nod.
You wanted to roll your eyes, maybe say something snarky to keep him humble. But you could only find it in yourself to blush, cheeks warm with affection.
Back to his usual bright smiles, Dick led you towards the diner, his hand on your lower back. He didn’t let it hover this time, his hand settling on your back instead. He definitely just wanted to feel his sweatshirt against your body.
“What’re you gonna do with that one?” you asked, gesturing to your coworker’s sweatshirt. You were surprised he was even holding it. You thought he would’ve burned it already.
“Would you notice if I pretend to forget it at the diner?”
“Yes, obviously I’d notice.”
“We’ll see…”
“Richard!”
You nudged Dick with your shoulder. In retaliation, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close into his side. There was no chance of him letting you go any time soon. Not when you were wearing his clothes.
Changing the subject as quickly as he could, Dick chuckled, “Have I told you how great you look in this sweatshirt? Because you look great. Whatever amazingly handsome, super charming guy gave it to you should definitely give you more of his sweatshirts. I mean… only if you’d want them, obviously…”
You leaned closer into Dick’s side, hiding your smile against his arm.
“If he offered me more, yeah, I’d take them. They smell like him, so… I like that.”
Dick grinned at you with nothing but glee, so excited that he wouldn’t help but bark a laugh. He tugged you impossibly closer, burying his nose into your hair like he couldn’t get enough. You felt his lips against the crown of your head, soft but there.
That definitely wasn’t something best friends did.
author's note ⋆˙⟡
↠ another product of me writing while exhausted, dangerous combo.. anyway i love making canon east coasters talk like west coasters
lover’s lookout ⋆˙⟡
↠ at the height of exams, you've been too busy studying to spend time with your boyfriend. running into each other on campus was an unexpected but much needed surprise.
college!dick grayson x gn!reader | 1.6k words 𐚁₊⊹
↠ contains. brief reference to sex. probably ooc everyone. dick being obsessed with his partner. and using so many pet names. no plot, just yapping.
↠ dick grayson masterlist. masterlist.
With midterms suddenly upon you, the library was seeing more of you than your own boyfriend. You had spent the past week with your nose buried in scribbled notes rather than his warm neck, hands filled with stacks of flashcards instead of his tousled hair. Honestly, it was infuriating to be apart, but it wasn’t like the two of you could study together. No, you tried that once, and it ended in dirty bedsheets and annoyed neighbors.
That meant, until your last midterm, the campus library would continue to hold all your affections. And your boyfriend would just be some attempted homewrecker.
Headphones blaring, you marched towards your only love– again, the library, not your boyfriend. You kept your head hanging low, hoping that your purposeful steps were enough to make people move out of your way. Nothing would stop you from reaching your beloved library.
“Baby!”
Despite your music blasting, you couldn’t miss that deafening shout. There was no way someone could be that excited about seeing their… that was a familiar voice. It took you embarrassingly long– a whole three seconds– to recognize it.
Immediately, your head snapped up, eyes wide as you spotted an enthusiastic Dick Grayson. Even amidst his cluster of friends– and still so many yards away– he waved at you frantically. You could do nothing but match his giddy smile. From the sight of him alone!
As you pulled your headphones from your ears, Dick scurried over to you with a speed that could surely contest the Flash. You had barely registered his presence, and already he was there, right in front of you with flushed cheeks and a breathless voice.
“Hey, beautiful,” Dick murmured, that playful grin already tugging at the corners of his lips.
His hands– the same calloused ones you had just been longing for– instantly grabbed yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Hi, baby,” you answered– almost shyly– as he stooped to kiss your forehead.
You were (rather rudely) drawn away from the moment when a sharp laugh had you peering curiously over Dick’s shoulder, back to his friends. Wally, Roy, and Jason watched you and Dick, surely teasing him for abandoning them so quickly for you.
Noticing your gaze, the three of them at least had the courtesy to greet you. Wally and Jason were kind enough to offer a sheepish wave; Roy only nodded in your direction.
Turning back to Dick, it was clear his friends were the farthest thing from his mind. He was too focused on you to be distracted by anything else.
“What’re you doing on campus?” you asked with a raised brow. “On a weekend?”
“Long story short: Wally’s stupid,” Dick said, loud enough for his voice to carry.
“Dude!” Wally shouted.
Even that wasn’t enough to tear Dick’s gaze away from you.
“Basically,” Dick continued, “he wanted tacos and said that that one place– ya know, the one in the Performing Arts Center? Yeah, he said that would be open.”
“That place is never open on weekends,” you muttered like it was a universally-known fact.
“Yeah! That’s exactly what I said! But someone didn’t listen, so now we’re heading to the taco truck that’s usually by the park.” Squeezing your hand for emphasis, Dick added in a low whisper, “Babe, if that taco truck isn’t there, I’m actually gonna lose it. A guy can only hear so much about the best taco meat before he starts going crazy.”
With a fond smile, you squeezed Dick’s hand in return and promised, “I’ll cross my fingers for you.”
His boyish grin stretched, revealing those adorable dimples that you always loved to kiss. He looked at you with such utter delight that you wondered if you accidentally proposed marriage instead of wishing his sanity well. But no, Dick just always looked at you like that; you could’ve sworn his pupils were in the shape of hearts.
“What’re you doing here?” he questioned with a curious, puppy-like tilt of his head. “I thought you were gonna be locked up in the library all day. I was worried I’d have to come rescue you, sword and armor and everything.”
“Eskrima sticks would be more accurate,” you mumbled.
“Woah, hey! Settle down!” Quickly, Dick covered your mouth, looking around wildly with his typical theatrics. “Can’t go around spilling all my secrets like that…”
You giggled against Dick’s palm, pressing a chaste kiss to his skin as an apology. Already, he was beaming again, sliding his palm away from your mouth to cup your cheek.
“Anyway,” you began, leaning into Dick’s tender touch. “I was in the library, but I got bored and needed a little pick-me-up, so I went and got a drink. And now I’m going back to the library.”
“What drink did you get?”
To anyone else, Dick’s question might’ve seemed innocent; honestly, you thought it was innocent at first too. You opened your mouth to answer before clamping it shut tightly. You knew your boyfriend better than this, this wasn’t some random, oh-I’m-just-curious question.
“No,” you said flatly. “No. I’m not telling you what I got. I know you’re gonna try to pay for my drink.”
And like the grown man he was, Dick pouted. “Please, my love, let me pay for your drink.”
“Richard,” you scolded, raising an accusatory finger. “Do not pay for my drink. I swear to God if I get a notification that you Venmo’ed me–”
“It’s okay.” Ever dramatic, Dick sighed in defeat. That lasted all of two seconds before he flashed a victorious smirk. “I already know you probably got a chai latte with vanilla cream, so that’s like… $7 if we round up. So I’ll send you… what, $20?”
“That’s a jump.”
“Yeah, well. Pocket money. It’ll pay for your next drink.”
You rolled your eyes at the way Dick looked all too pleased with himself. There was no rejecting him when he looked as sweet as that. You supposed all that Wayne money had to go somewhere… why not to a broke college kid’s caffeine funds?
“Wait, actually, I’ll send you $21! For this drink, the one after that, and the one after that.”
“You really are–”
“– the most amazing boyfriend to ever exist? Yeah, I know, babe, but I appreciate the reminder.”
Again, you rolled your eyes, shoving your palm into Dick’s face. He grabbed your wrist, holding your hand against him as he pressed endless kisses to your skin. He didn’t stop until you yanked your hand from his grip, giggling over your ticklish palms.
“Anyway,” Dick continued casually. “Are you still coming over for Pretty Woman tonight?”
“Of course I am.”
“Thank God. If I had to go another day without seeing you–”
“You’re seeing me right now.”
“Smartass.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
Raising onto your toes, you pecked Dick’s cheek in a show of thanks. You adored when he couldn’t even try to hate you for your snide comments.
“But,” you started.
“Oh, God, no. Baby, please don’t tell me you can’t stay the night,” Dick cried, unable to contain his horror. “You haven’t slept over the past five nights. Five sleepless nights! That’s five too many!”
“Relax,” you chuckled, waving him off. And once again, the Boy Wonder was beaming like this was the happiest news of his life. “I’m staying the night, I promise. I was just thinking that maybe instead of Pretty Woman… we could watch Practical Magic. Y’know, for the fall vibes and whatever.”
“Baby, you’re a genius, and I love you. All that studying is really paying off.”
“I’d hope so,” you grumbled, failing to hide the warmth rising to your cheeks.
Taking your hands back in his, Dick leaned forward to press another kiss to your forehead, his soft lips lingering long enough that you started to giggle. He filled you with a tingling giddiness that was bound to distract you from studying.
“Get back to your studying, my beautiful little genius. I’m gonna get Wally some tacos and remind him how stupid he is. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”
“Mhm,” you hummed sweetly. “I’ll be there at seven.”
“If you’re even a minute late I might die of heartbreak.”
“Then maybe I’ll come a little earlier.”
“I’ll die of excitement.”
“Okay, then seven it is. I like having a living boyfriend.”
“You’re so thoughtful.”
Miraculously, you and Dick managed to pull away from each other. You were pretty sure you heard Roy say an exasperated, “Finally.” You would be sure to glare at him for it later.
“Okay, see you tonight,” you said quickly, kissing Dick on the cheek as his friends drew nearer. “I love you.”
And already, you were walking off, whizzing away at a speed that couldn’t contest the Flash but could certainly contest a league of speedwalking moms. You would let Dick suffer the onslaught of teasing on his own. As if he cared about that.
Practically at the top of his lungs, he shouted after you, “I love you too!”
You glanced over your shoulder, laughing at Dick who had taken to walking backwards just to watch you go. Even with Wally jostling against him, Dick only cared about you. He brought his fingers to his lips, blowing you the biggest kiss he could. You mimicked him, sending a gentle kiss his way. He caught it eagerly, making a show of stuffing it in his pocket, keeping your kiss forever.
You continued towards the library, determined as ever to finish your studying so that you might have more time to cuddle up next to Dick. But with your back turned, you couldn’t see the way he watched you until you were completely out of sight. Even then, he stared after you, hoping you might magically reappear. He didn’t care to look at anything else.
Why would he when he had you?
author's note ⋆˙⟡
↠ ok so... i literally haven't been able to write anything for weeks and it's been PISSING ME OFF. but then randomly last night i couldn't sleep and decided to stay up unnecessarily late to write so uh... here she is world be kind to her!!! but if it's ass then you know why... also i was starving when i wrote this so wally is actually just my self-insert. k bye!!
Do you want me to beg for fics? Because if that's what you want I can beg..
why am i just now seeing this…………….. anyway
i’m actually a dick grayson addict so i understand you exactly and yes this is a very very healthy attachment 🤕
I PROMISE THE FICS ARE ON THE WAY <333 i have so many ideas for him but none of them are coming out the way i want them to bc writer’s block sucks but i’m forcing it to go away yay me personal growth!!!
