“I’ll never tire of this,” he whispers once he’s helped you into your shorts and lured you into the bathroom. He undoes the bobs and pins of your hair as you wipe off your makeup, dropping each piece into the dish beside the sink as he goes. His body seems to cradle yours once he finishes, wrapping fully around your frame as you finish your albeit abridged night routine. You’re far too tired to go through with the brunt of it.
or the one where zayne helps you get un-ready from the day.
masterlist
The walk up to Zayne’s apartment is familiar, a trip you take more out of muscle memory than any conscious thought. Even at the late hour, you’re mulling through a million other thoughts as you round the corner and rummage through your purse for your key. You’re as quiet as you can be, slipping it into the lock and gently pressing the door open, not knowing if your boyfriend was asleep already or not. You hope he is. If only for the fact that he’d worked a late shift and you knew he was stuck with an early one the following morning.
“You’re home late,” his voice sounds from the dining table. You don’t bother slipping off your heels, then, dropping whatever’s in your hands on the small table beside the door and walking towards the voice. Even if you’d wished he’d been all snuggled up in bed, already, you can’t help the warmth that surges through you at the thought of him waiting up for you.
“And you’re still awake,” you hum as you walk up behind Zayne. Your hands find his shoulders and run flat palms along the cotton fabric of his shirt. He’s busy typing away one some medical report, something you might have asked about if the thought of sleep wasn’t already wearing away at your eyelids.
“How was Rafayel’s exhibit?” he asks, taking one hand off of the laptop’s keyboard to rest over yours. He grabs both hands with just one of his and links them at the center of his collarbones. His lips find your wrist.
“Artsy,” you say. He nips at your wrist. You hiss slightly, scoffing. “It was nice. We got dinner after.”
He nods, tapping your hands once before he lets go to finish typing up his document. It’s a few more seconds of clacking before he’s closing the computer altogether and shifting in his chair to face you.
“I assume that’s why you’re home so late,” he says. The clock on the wall reads just after midnight. His hand finds yours again, thumb swiping soothingly over the back of it.
“Yeah. Raf insisted,” you say just as a yawn creeps up your throat.
“You could have said no,” he chirps, smiling softly up at you as he kisses your wrist again. You cock your head to the side, eyeing him knowingly.
“You know how he is.”
The laugh that bubbles out of Zayne is syrupy, sweet, crinkling the edges of his eyes. He didn’t laugh like this when he wasn’t at least a little tired.
“Alright,” he concedes. “I assume now’s when we should put you to bed then, hm?”
You nod as you step back enough to allow him to stand. He takes both of your hands in his, using this time to take in the gown you’d chosen to wear to the exhibit. You’d sent him a picture earlier to ask for his opinion, but you guess it’s not the same as seeing it in person. He nods once before pulling you into your first proper kiss of the evening. “Rafayel was lucky to be at your side tonight. You look beautiful.”
“He was also forced to listen to my many many heel complaints,” you mumble against his lips, chasing his mouth for one more quick taste. He must have made some tea earlier. Peppermint, you think.
“I’m sure,” he says as he leads you the short distance to his room. Despite not officially living here, you’d made more than a bit of an impression on his apartment. Especially the bedroom. The nightstand beside what you’d claimed as your side of the bed was full of clutter that wouldn’t have come from Zayne. Your phone charger, your planner, the panda mug you’d used that morning for your coffee. Even still, the sheets had been your decision. A creamy pastel blue with snowflake detailing across it.
Zayne sat you at the foot of the bed before he knelt down to be level with your heels. He took his time undoing the buckles of the right one, thumbing the edges as he went and placing barely-there pecks along your knees. Then, when he’d finished with the first and placed it neatly beside the edge of the bed, he moved onto your left heel. He moved with a sense of grace that only came with familiar touches.
“I’m sorry I came in so late. I would have rushed dinner a bit more if I had known you were waiting up for me,” you whisper as he stands, your aching soles hitting the plush carpet.
“Don’t be sorry,” he hums. Another quick kiss finds your lips. “I wanted to wait, and I had a report to finish, anyway.”
“Still…”
You watch him shake his head as he leaves you to rummage through the drawer filled with your pajamas. Well, mostly your pajamas. It’s partially filled with shirts you’d stolen from him over the course of your relationship. He comes back with a shirt he’d owned since university and a pair of fuzzy sleep shorts. Gingerly, he takes your hands in his again to help you stand before turning you around to unzip your dress. The trail his fingers make down your spine coats your skin a layer of goosebumps, but you’re quickly reprieved when he slips the shirt over your head. You help a bit with your stockings, but he’s ultimately the one dragging them down to the floor and out from under you to toss in his laundry hamper.
“I’ll never tire of this,” he whispers once he’s helped you into your shorts and lured you into the bathroom. He undoes the bobs and pins of your hair as you wipe off your makeup, dropping each piece into the dish beside the sink as he goes. His body seems to cradle yours once he finishes, wrapping fully around your frame as you finish your albeit abridged night routine. You’re far too tired to go through with the brunt of it.
“Neither will I,” you reply. You let him lead you to the bed, let him pull back the covers and drag you beneath them and into his side. You want this to be your life for however long you’ve got left to live it. Maybe not here in his apartment, or even in your own, but at his side.
He starts by pulling you towards him by the waist using both of his hands, pushing your bodies together, leaving no space for air or doubt. His hands are steady and strong, afraid of the thought of you moving just one inch away, afraid of the separation. He wants you near, he needs to feel you.
One of his hands moves from your waist to your back, caressing it like something precious, while the other one moves to let his entire arm hug your waist, trapping you in position.
And while his arms are around you, his beautiful eyes are scanning every single detail on your face. Admiring you like something holy, something unreal. In your eyes you're the most beautiful being that has ever stepped on the planet earth. He gets drunk by the sight of you, and the feeling of having you with him.
And while he’s taking his time worshipping you, your hands move to his chest, rising to his shoulders, and finally ending in the back of his head, with your fingers intertwining with his hair.
It doesn’t matter how much time has passed since you both saw each other—it could be years, it could be months, or it could be just one day—the moment Jason’s lips touch yours he can’t hold back.
You taste the desire and longing in his tongue. The kiss is deep, heated and long. Jason only pulls apart to groan, making your entire body shiver with pleasure.
He needs you to be impossibly closer. He needs your hands touching him all the time. He needs to feel your breath against his skin. He always needs more when it comes to you.
Sometimes—whenever the situation allows it—without stopping, his kisses start lowering towards your neck; lower, your chest; lower, your stomach; lower-
But, when the situation is different—and he can’t have you like he wants to—he’s the one that pulls apart first. His body doesn’t move, he’s still holding you against him. His grip hasn’t loosened. It’s still strong, holding you against him, like he is afraid you might run away, or just vanish into thin air.
He admires you again, but this time with pride. Proud of being the reason your lips are swollen now. Proud of being the one having you.
Jason Todd kisses like a starved man, but only because he’s obsessed with you.
A/N: Don't ask me what this is, I don't even know myself. This is probably the closest you're going to get to smut written by me.
Sunlight poured down on the both of you as Dick peppered your face with kisses. The golden hue made you look even more goddess-like in his opinion.
His black hair was wild and messy, and his smile was downright mischievous as he tugged on your hair.
The two of you had decided to have a makeshift picnic. There was no anniversary, birthday, or anything monumental—he had just wanted to smother you with love.
He knew being in a relationship while also being a vigilante came with the terror of not knowing if he’d come home. So he made it his personal mission to always make time for you.
“Knock it off, Dick,” you laughed, swatting his hand away. Your joy sounded like a siren song, slowly luring him in and further proving his theory that you’d be the death of him.
He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, his hand playing with the strap of your red tank top.
“What?” he said innocently, looking down at you.
You were both sprawled on a picnic blanket. He was feeding you strawberries— which you had rolled your eyes at.
You shook your head in exasperation. He tugged on your hair again, which was half pulled up with a pink lacy bow. He pulled the end piece, causing it to unravel. Your hair came tumbling down, framing your face.
“Dick,” you groaned, though you were smiling softly.
“I like it down,” he muttered. His fingers threaded through your long hair reverently, as if you were all he needed.
He picked up the lacy ribbon with his other hand and grinned.
You raised a brow, already knowing what he was thinking.
He tried to tie it around his bicep, and you snorted.
“You are the most ridiculous man I’ve ever met,” you stated, though you moved to help him tie it properly. Your fingers looped the ribbon easily, shaping the bow around his upper arm.
Once you finished, he grinned and pressed his lips to yours softly.
“I’m your ridiculous man,” he muttered against your lips, pulling away and leaving you wanting more of his softness.
“Plus,” he added, flexing his bicep, “now everyone knows I belong to the most gorgeous girl in the world.”
Even after all these years, he still managed to make your face heat up.
“Damn right you do,” you muttered, hiding your face in his chest. His arms circled your waist, holding you close, and you could feel his chest shaking from laughter.
After a while, he slyly moved your head so it tilted up. Your brows furrowed and you let out a groan when you saw a strawberry in his hand.
: content ⌕ another date night, successfully ends with you riding home, on the back of jason todd's motorcycle.
꩜ slice of life, biker!jason, fem!reader, opposites attract, established relationship.
the motorcycle was parked in the alley next to the busy diner. though black like any other, it was still extremely devoted to jason todd as he kept it clean as if he had vowed to.
you climbed on behind him like you had done this before, through lots of different weathers and moods. this time in pink, with pearl pins tangled in your hair. gotham's evening light flattered the old pavement, and the perfume stayed faint on your wrist.
he passed on the spare helmet to you, "ready?"
"whenever you are," you respond.
the engine geared up, beneath your bodies. gotham opened ahead like a parted sea the second you put your arms around him.
he took you the long way as a means to exist in the moment. the road noise swirled into a sense you flew by rather than being forced under. for a little while, you posed your cheek against his shoulder's back for the wind claimed everything that wasn't holding on.
at a red light somewhere in the middle of the city, a woman on the pavement glanced over. her eyes moved from jason... the leather, the intimidating focus pinned to his face... to you in your pink dress, your skirt an irreverent flutter against his jacket's blackness.
you caught her eye, offering a small smile. she shook her head, a little, accepting what she couldn't explain.
once the light changed, you were driven off.
without saying a word, jason's hand found yours briefly at the next stop, squeezed a heartbeat too long, and returned to the handlebar.
your softness intertwined with his hardness all the way home, and in that silent togetherness, you knew you were exactly where you wanted to be.
༅
"tell me again why you wore these death traps?" he huffed, shifting his grip under your thighs as he took another step up the staircase, leading to your apartment. your heels dangled from his free hand, swinging.
"'cause they make my legs look fantastic," you muttered to the back of his neck, lips brushing on skin. jason let out a laugh. "yeah, well, mission accomplished. but next time, pick a pair that doesn’t require a piggyback rescue."
he adjusted his grip again as he took the last few steps two at a time. the movement jostled you, and you tightened your arms around his shoulders. he pretended to stumble, just to hear you yelp "... asshole!"
bonus : a few hours earlier, before the date...
"you do realise we're just going to dinner, right?" you muttered, fingers tapping on the bathroom counter as jason leaned over your shoulder.
"mhmm," he hummed, one hand already reaching for the helmet tucked under his arm... obnoxiously oversized. the other brushed at your waist. "but gotham's full of assholes who don’t know how to drive, and I’m not trusting some cabbie to get us there in one piece."
you sighed, glaring at him, like that'll do something. he’s immune to glares, especially yours, especially when he’s already won. "I spent twenty minutes on this," you gestured vaguely at your hair.
jason plucked a stray bobby pin from the counter, fiddling. "yeah, and it looks great. but helmets don’t care about hair," he said, like that’s supposed to be comforting. "c’mon. you know I’ll go slow."
There is love in this touch of mine (and nothing else, I swear)
comfort came against my will - series masterlist here
pairing: dick grayson x reader (gender neutral, no use of y/n)
length: 1.2k
genre: fluff, comfort
warnings: touch for the sake of touch, they're really in love and that's abt it
a/n: I hope everyone's kind to themselves tonight <3
Dick thinks, somewhere vague and sticky in the back of his mind, that it's probably too early for this. The sun filters in through your open window, spots dancing behind his closed eyes as the first rays of the morning begin to spill in.
He hasn't even been home that long, he thinks. It was only a couple hours ago that he peeled off his mask and crawled under the covers next to you.
Still, though, he finds it hard to deny you when you're like this.
"I love you," you murmur, hushed and gentle, like you're not sure if he's really awake. Your lips start by his collarbone, mapping out his skin by pressing endless kisses wherever you can reach.
"Love you too, honey," he mumbles, sleep tying his tongue as you smile against his skin. It's endearing enough that you change direction and move back up to his face, kisses then pressed against the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks.
"Go back to sleep," you whisper, your voice a soothing, lulling sort of thing as your palm smooths over his abdomen. With the blankets kicked down to his waist, his skin is warm against yours, and your lips leave his face in favour of trailing back down across his abs.
"Is this supposed to put me to sleep?" he counters lazily, his eyes still closed as he feels your lips skim across his lower stomach, pausing to kiss along a particularly gouging scar.
"It could," you say easily. "If you want. You do need more sleep, babe."
"Well, what do you want?" he asks - a little coy, a little pointed as he blinks his eyes open slowly. You move to rest your cheek against his stomach, tracing the shapes of his abs idly as you look up at him.
He waits, just a moment, for your hand to dip lower - for it to sneak under the blanket, or for your lips to go further down until…
But nothing happens. You just lay there, your touch rhythmic and soothing and kind.
"I don't want anything," you murmur, lifting your head to press a kiss to his skin again before settling back with your cheek against his abdomen. He's sure you can feel, then, the stutter of his breath as it all leaves him.
"Not anything?" he murmurs, his hand winding through your hair and giving it a gentle, barely there sort of tug. It's the kind of thing that you love, he knows - but even as your lips twitch into a bit of a smile, you shake your head.
"Just this," you murmur. "Unless you want something more."
"We can, baby," he say immediately, and you smile at him kindly.
"Yes we can. Do you want to?" you ask. It's not often that Dick finds himself out of his depth - floundering and stumbling over his own feet. But now, as he loosens his grip to smooth a hand over your hair, instead, he's not so sure where to go.
"Why do you touch me like that?" He asks quietly before he can think better of it, and he wonders sort of lurchingly when he started being so honest.
But then you smile up at him like you love him, and he thinks he understands.
"Because you're pretty," you say sweetly. "And you're all mine. And because I love you."
"Oh yea?" he murmurs, off kilter and reeling, just a bit. You stop smoothing your fingers across his abs, moving, instead, to press your palm firmly to his sternum. A solid weight, a safe place to land.
"Yea," you respond easily. "Didn't you know?"
"I know, baby," he says softly, and you move up his body easily when he starts tugging at you, pulling you closer until you can tuck your face into the crook of his neck.
"Do you want to tell me what you're thinking?" you ask him softly, your breath against his skin as he wraps his arms around your tighter, anchoring you against him.
"Just that I love you," Dick says weakly, and you hum.
"Good thought to have," you agree solemnly, and he reaches down to pinch your thigh a bit.
You let him, notably - you laugh against his neck and pull him closer, and something sort of cracks in his heart at it all.
"C'mere," is all the warning you have from him before he's rolling on top of you, then, kissing you hard enough that you forget, for just a moment, how to breathe.
"Do you know what you want now?" you ask him, airy and muffled between kisses as he cups your cheek in his hand and chases your lips with his own.
"Yea," he says distractedly, and you smile against his lips.
"Do you want to share?" you prompt, and Dick moves just enough to trail his own kisses across your cheeks and down your neck, just as you had.
"Just this," he murmurs against your skin, and you look at him so fondly that he thinks it might be enough to make him crumble.
"I like this," you agree softly, and maybe it's relief that rolls off of him. Maybe it's love.
"Yea?" He makes his way back up to your mouth, teeth nipping against your bottom lip before he soothes it with another kiss.
"Yea," you murmur, and as you lift your head from the pillow slightly to chase his lips, he clicks his tongue in disapproval. His hand on your cheek keeps you steady as he leans down again, always coming to you before you can go to him - always taking care of you before you can lift a finger.
"Yea," you continue distractedly. "But you know what else I like?"
"What?"
"When you're well rested," you say sweetly, and Dick's head falls to the crook of your neck with a stifled laugh.
"I must disappoint you very often, then," he sighs as he rolls off of you and into his back, his arm stretched out towards you.
"Oh, never," you say easily, an honesty settling in your words that makes him pull you closer. You curl yourself against him with your cheek pressed against his chest so you can hear his heartbeat.
"Never?" he murmurs.
"Not once," you respond softly, and he squeezes your shoulders affectionately where his arm anchors you to him.
"You gonna stay here while I sleep?" he asks, and you bring his free hand up so that you can trail kisses across his palm.
"If you're ok with it," you say, and he scoffs.
"As if I wouldn't be, honey," Dick says chastisingly, and you smile against his hand. "I always want you here."
"Even when this is all we do?" you ask kindly - a tricky sort of question that you know will trip him up.
But he just drops a kiss to the crown of your head and settles back, his chest carved open for you, his heart in your hands.
"Yea, babe," he murmurs, something heavy there - something true. "Maybe… especially then."
You probably answer him, then - you probably say something earnest and loving, and if he was awake enough, he'd kick himself for ignoring it. But sleep weighs him down and you encourage it with gentle hands and soothing words, and he wonders, in an unhurried sort of way, when touch turned into something so good.
contains: dick grayson, bruce wayne’s son and, gotham’s golden boy. him and his reputation of being a ladies man comes hand in hand and he had no problem with it.
until he met you, a determined magazine reporter doing a cover story for his family and he has never been cared more about what his reputation might bring.
because dick grayson who’s never had a problem with asking people on a date can’t seem to crack you with his usual flirty smiles and charming attitude.
you with your glasses and sticks in your hair holding it perfectly and glossy lips that somehow only ever scowl at him.
♯┆ [dilf!dick grayson x pregnant wife!reader] INCLUDES.ᐟ
⤿ DICK GRAYSON was a man who aged like fine wine, and you certainly weren't complaining. You two had been married for a while now, but he never got tired of waking up to your beautiful self every day.
!! fluff. domestic. fem reader. established relationship. entirely based off of that comic panel. dilf grayson is so special to me. sexual innuendos. you two have two kids together. no real warnings. ENJOY.
The house was loud in the way only a home full of small children could be. Crayons rolled off the coffee table, a blanket fort sagged dramatically between two chairs, and someone had left a trail of goldfish crackers leading from the kitchen to the hallway like a breadcrumb map to chaos.
You stepped over them carefully, one hand resting on the curve of your belly, the other holding a half full sippy cup you’d rescued from the stairs.
In the living room, Dick was on the floor, cross legged, with your youngest perched on his shoulders and your oldest dramatically narrating a story about space pirates and magical ducks with flailing hands. He looked up when he heard you step into the room, and the grin that spread across his face was instant, soft, familiar, and so full of love it made your chest ache.
“Hey, babe,” he greeted, voice warm and a little breathless. “We’re deep in negotiations with the pirate queen. It’s tense. She's telling me I need to give her all my ducks or I'll have to walk the plank.”
You leaned against the doorway, watching him with a smile that felt too big for your face. His sweatpants were slung low on his hips, his shirt stretched across broad shoulders, and his salt and pepper hair was sticking up in every direction thanks to the tiny, sticky hands grasped in it. He looked tired, he looked perfect.
“You’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen,” you shrugged, and he blinked like he hadn’t expected that in the middle of a pirate-duck business deal.
“Even with glitter in my hair? I'm pretty sure there's juice stains on this shirt too.” his chin dipped and his eyebrows raised as if that would help him get a better look at his shirt. Your daughter (the pirate queen) took to prancing around the couch and throwing herself onto your leg with an excited "Mommy!" and some incoherent, excited shouting.
“Especially then,” you murmured, your hand brushing your daughter's hair out of her face and crossing the room to sit beside him. “It’s the dad energy. It’s lethal.”
He chuckled, his hands steady on your son's sides while gently lowering him onto the floor. “You’re biased.”
“I’m pregnant with your third child,” you replied, nudging his knee with yours, a tired but happy sigh leaving your lips when you shifted to rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m allowed to be biased.”
Your oldest flopped dramatically onto the couch, declaring the ducks had betrayed her and now they were at war. Dick gave a solemn nod, then turned back to you, his hand finding yours and resting over your belly.
“You’re glowing,” he mumbled softly, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I know people say that to pregnant ladies all the time, but you actually are. You look like you’re made of the sun.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered anyway. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m obsessed,” he corrected, leaning in to kiss your temple. “You’re carrying our kid, you wrangle two tiny tornadoes every day, and you still look at me like I hung the moon.”
“Because you did,” you shrugged, your words leaving your tongue like it was the simplest fact you've ever known. “You make grilled cheese with bat shaped cookie cutters, you patch up scrapes and read bedtime stories in your patrol voice. You’re literally everything I have ever wanted.”
Dick’s gaze softened, and he pulled you closer until your head rested against his shoulder again and your body was flush against his side. The kids were still chattering, building a new fort with couch cushions and wild ambition, but for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.
“I still can’t believe you picked me,” he whispered.
“I picked you every day,” you replied. “Even when you were late to our first date. Even when you forgot to take off your mask before meeting my family. Even now, when you snore like a freight train and leave your gear in the laundry hamper.”
He laughed, low and rough, and kissed the top of your head. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Good,” you said, closing your eyes. “I am right where I wanna be.”
The kids erupted into giggles as the fort collapsed again, and Dick groaned playfully, pushing himself up to help rebuild. You watched him move — strong, graceful, and just a little slower than he used to be, but not because he was slowed from age, but because he didn't need to rush. The silver in his hair suited him. So did the laugh lines around his eyes and the way he carried himself like someone who’d finally learned how to be soft without breaking.
Later, after dinner (which involved three spilled drinks, one dramatic tantrum, and a very enthusiastic dance party), you found yourself curled up on the couch while Dick cleaned up the kitchen. You could hear him humming again, totally off key but entirely content, and you smiled into the throw pillow.
He came back with two mugs — tea for you, hot chocolate for him — and settled beside you, pulling your legs into his lap like it was second nature. His hand found your belly again, fingers tracing lazy circles as he sipped his drink.
“You’re staring,” he gave a toothy grin withut looking up.
“God forbid I look at the man I love. Who, might I add, is aging like absolute fine wine.” You leaned over and gave him a quick but loving kiss.
He snorted against your lips with eyebrows raised, “I’m aging like a guy who’s been thrown through too many windows.”
“Still hot,” you shrugged and he finally looked at you, eyes crinkling with amusement.
“You’re the hot one here.”
“I’m pregnant, Dick,” you replied, as if that took away from how attractive you could be. "And I'm married to the textbook definition of a dilf."
Dick leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “I expect you to keep saying things like that forever.”
“I plan to,” you said, tugging him closer. “Even when we’re old and gray and the kids are grown and the house is quiet.”
He kissed you properly then, slow and sweet, and the world faded again. Just warmth, and love, and the quiet hum of a life well-lived.
Eventually, the kids called out from upstairs because someone needed water, someone else had lost a stuffed animal, and Dick groaned dramatically as he stood.
“I’ll go,” he said, already halfway to the stairs. “But only because you’re carrying Dick Grayson Jr. and I’m trying to earn brownie points.”
“You’ve got a lifetime supply.. but we're not naming the poor kid Dick in this day and age!” you called after him.
And as you listened to him soothe sleepy voices and tuck tiny bodies back into bed, you felt it again... that deep, overwhelming love that came from watching someone grow into the best version of themselves right in front of you.
Dick returned a few minutes later, barefoot and rumpled, and collapsed beside you with a sigh. “They’re finally down.”
You curled into his side, hand resting over his heart. “You’re amazing.”
He kissed your forehead. “Of course I am, just for you.”
⤿ DICK GRAYSON has been your husband for years, and yet he still finds ways to make you fall more and more in love with him every day.
!! no warnings. fluff. fem!reader. established marriage. mom!reader. pregnant reader. DILF GRAYSON HUBBA HUBBA. dick being 10/10 husband and dad. domestic fluff. ENJOY. COMMENTS ENCOURAGED.
The morning sun filtered through the kitchen curtains, casting golden stripes across the countertop where you were attempting to make pancakes. Attempting being the key word, because your daughter had very specific opinions about the shape they should be.
"Mama, that one looks like a blob," your daughter, Lily, announced from her perch on the kitchen stool, her dark hair (which she got from her father) still mussed from sleep.
"A blob can be a shape," you defended, flipping the admittedly misshapen pancake.
"Not a good one."
You were about to respond when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and lips pressed against your neck. "I think your blobs are perfect," Dick murmured against your skin, his voice still rough with sleep.
"You're biased," you teased, but you were already melting back against his chest, the familiar warmth of him seeping through your thin sleep shirt.
"Oh definitely," he agreed, spinning you around with the easy grace that never quite left him, even in domestic moments like these. Even after seven years of marriage, three years of parenthood, and countless mornings exactly like this one, your breath still caught when those blue eyes focused on you like you were the only person in the world. "Biased toward my beautiful wife who's making breakfast for our family. Sue me."
"Daddy, you're being gross," Lily groaned at him, though she was grinning.
"Gross?" Dick gasped in mock offense, releasing you to scoop Lily up in one fluid motion, flipping her upside down as she shrieked with laughter. "I'll show you gross, little miss."
You watched them with a smile, turning back to rescue the pancakes before they burned. This was your favorite version of Dick Grayson — not Nightwing, not even the charming socialite he could be when the situation called for it, but this one. The one barefoot in pajama pants and an old Gotham Knights t-shirt, hair sticking up in every direction, making your daughter giggle so hard she could barely breathe.
"Dick, the baby," you warned, and he immediately righted Lily, settling her back on her stool with an apologetic kiss to her forehead.
"Sorry, Mama's right. Gotta be careful with the little guy." His hand found your hip, thumb stroking absently over the small bump barely visible beneath your shirt. Four months along, and he still looked at you like you'd hung the moon.
"Or girl," you reminded him, plating the pancakes.
"Or girl," he agreed, stealing a piece of bacon from the plate. You swatted his hand, but he caught your wrist, bringing it to his lips. "Have I mentioned you're gorgeous this morning?"
"You mentioned I make good blobs."
"The best blobs." He grinned, that devastating smile that had made you fall in love with him in the first place. "But seriously, you're glowing."
"That's sweat from standing over a hot stove, babe."
"Nope, definitely glowing." He released your wrist to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "Most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
"You said that last night." You shook your head a bit sheepishly and nudged his arm
"I'll say it tonight too." He leaned in, and you met him halfway, the kiss soft and sweet and tasting like stolen bacon.
"Still gross!" Lily announced, but she was smiling around a mouthful of pancake.
The morning continued in comfortable chaos. Dick helping Lily get dressed while you cleaned up breakfast, the three of you negotiating what constituted appropriate clothing for a trip to the park. (Lily wanted to wear her tutu. Dick supported this decision. You were outnumbered, and you didn't mind because she looked so damn cute.)
By the time you made it to the park, the sun was high and warm, and Lily was racing toward the playground with the boundless energy of childhood. Dick's hand found yours automatically, fingers lacing together as you walked.
"Think we'll be able to keep up with two of them?" you asked, watching Lily scale the climbing structure with an ease that spoke to her genetics.
"Are you kidding? We're going to be outnumbered and exhausted." Dick brought your joined hands to his lips, the biggest grin on those lips of his. "I can't wait."
You laughed, leaning into his side. "You're insane."
"About you? Absolutely." He tugged you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Have been since the day we met."
"That's not what you said when we met. I believe your exact words were 'nice to meet you' and then you spilled coffee on my shoes."
"I was distracted by your smile," he defended. "And I bought you new shoes."
"You bought me very expensive new shoes and then asked me to dinner."
"Best investment I ever made." His arm slipped around your waist, hand splaying possessively over your hip. "Look at me now. Beautiful wife, amazing daughter, another baby on the way, and I still get to come home to you every night."
You tilted your head up to look at him, finding his expression soft and open in the way it only was with you and Lily. "You're really happy?"
"Happy?" He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. Both hands came up to frame your face, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart skip. "I'm so far beyond happy I don't think there's a word for it. You're everything, you know that? You and Lily are my whole world."
"Dick," you breathed, and he kissed you again, deeper this time, pouring years and years of love and devotion into it until you were dizzy.
"Mama! Daddy! Watch me!" Lily's voice broke through, and you pulled apart, both turning to watch her hang upside down from the monkey bars.
"Very impressive, baby!" you called, and Dick whistled his approval.
"She gets that from me," he said proudly.
"The showing off or the acrobatics?" Your eyebrows raised, accompanied by a wink and a smile.
"Both." He grinned proudly at that. "Come on, I'll push her on the swings. You can sit and look beautiful."
"I can push my own daughter on the swings."
"I know you can. You can do anything." His hand squeezed yours. "But you're growing a whole human, so let me take care of you both. Please?"
The please got you, the way it always did. You let him lead you to the bench near the swings, settling down with a sigh you hadn't realized you'd been holding. Pregnancy was easier the second time in some ways, harder in others, but having Dick by your side made everything better.
You watched him push Lily, his laughter mixing with hers as she demanded "higher, Daddy, higher!" He obliged, of course, because Dick Grayson had never been able to deny his girls anything. The sun caught in his dark hair that was greying at the roots, and his smile was bright and unguarded, and your chest ached with how much you loved him.
Later, after the park, after lunch, after Lily had been coaxed into a nap with promises of ice cream later, you found yourself in Dick's arms on the couch. His hand was tracing lazy patterns on your stomach, and you were playing with his hair, and everything was perfect and quiet and right.
"Thank you," he said suddenly, voice soft.
"For what?"
"This. All of this." He shifted to look at you, and there was something vulnerable in his expression. "I know I'm not always here," he continued. "I know some nights I come home late, or bruised, or..."
You pressed your fingers to his lips, stopping him. "You're here now. You're here every morning and every moment you can be. You're an amazing husband and an incredible father. I knew who I was marrying, and I love every part of you." You smiled at him, your head tilted to rest on your arm. You meant every word, truly, and you knew he did too.
"Plus, it's not like you're out late doing bullshit, you're out late being a literal superhero, vigilantes.. whatever you wanna call it." You couldn't help the teasing smile that came to your lips with that.
His eyes shimmered, and he caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "How did I get so lucky?"
"I ask myself the same thing." You smiled, cupping his cheek. "Though I think it might have something to do with you being charming and handsome and making me laugh even when I want to strangle you."
"I am pretty charming," he agreed, and you laughed, the sound making him grin. "And handsome. Don't forget handsome."
"Impossible to forget." You kissed him, slow and sweet. "You're also so humble."
"My best quality." He pulled you closer, until you were practically in his lap, his arms wrapped securely around you. "I love you. So much it scares me sometimes."
“I still can’t believe Linda has given me the opportunity to photograph Dick Grayson. THE Dick Grayson!" Andy, your colleague and close friend gushed.
“He’s just one of Bruce Wayne’s wards, what’s so special about him?” You shrugged, reading through the fan questions submitted to your magazine website for the Waynes.
“Please tell me you know what he looks like,” Andy gaped from the passenger seat.
You just shrugged again in response and underlined something.
“Okay I know you’re new and all but who doesn’t know Richard Grayson?” He pulled out his phone and typed something while having a whole conversation with you. “Didn’t Clark and Lois mention anything? They’re pretty close with the Waynes,” he added.
Lois and Clark. Your coworkers and best friends from when you were a measly intern at the Daily Planet just a few months ago.
You spent your interning days getting coffee for the editor, so it was safe to say that if you learned anything from your time at the Daily Planet was how to filter disgusting break room coffee just right so it could be drinkable. You knew more about shredding old reports in the mail room than you did about writing and whatever you learned about it, you had Lois to thank for.
She had been a mentor to you and when you missed your family, she had been the perfect sister. It had seemed like Clark was the one third wheeling you two most times.
You had wanted to work at the Daily Planet because you studied criminology along with journalism so you could report crime –not sort mail by the folder colours. But you spent a whole year there, waiting for your chance which never came and you needed the money because getting by on your internship paycheques was next to impossible.
So when you got a call back from the magazine company you applied to in Gotham, you didn’t think twice before accepting.
Lois had been just as sad about you leaving Metropolis as you were but just like an older sister, she was happy for the opportunity you received.
It wasn’t your first choice but you had to make the ends meet.
Besides, in just a few months, you had made quite a name for yourself. Big enough for your editor to give you the cover story for the Wayne Family.
When your editor assigned you the job, you were torn to say the least. Not because you weren’t happy with the opportunity –you were. People begged for this job. It paid a ton but celebrity gossip wasn’t exactly what interested you. You were Lois Lane’s mentee, you wanted to write about crime and corruption which Gotham city was literally infested with.
But you also knew how rare of an opportunity this was and that it would bring you exposure you needed to maybe express to your editor what you wanted to write about.
So you put on your bravest smile, ran a questionnaire online to ask the citizens of Gotham if they had anything to ask Mr. Wayne or any of the Wayne family members.
It totally didn’t scare you. And it totally didn’t scare you even further when Andy told you that the last interview Bruce Wayne had done was when Andy was still in diapers. And your editor wanted you -of all people to write about him.
It would be a breeze.
You had briefly mentioned it to Lois on FaceTime last week and Clark –who was cooking in the kitchen and also eavesdropping apparently, he had told you that Bruce wasn’t as scary as the media made him out to be.
You replied that you would be the judge of that.
Which brought you here, in the parking lot of the Wayne Enterprises building, waiting for the clock to hit 2 PM when your interview was supposed to start.
“Look at his pretty eyes!” Andy cooed and handed his phone over to you with the screen filled with photos of a black haired and blue eyed man.
Your eyes widened, despite yourself, as you took in the sight in front of you. Wavy black hair, big blue eyes framed with long black eyelashes and a boyish smile that deepened his dimples. His nose had a bump on the bridge and with that face, you were guessing he played sports in high school.
Or maybe he still did because the next photo of him was shirtless and the hard lines of his muscles almost made you drop the phone.
It was a photoshoot from a couple of years ago, his hair was messy and falling over his eyes. His hand behind his head, the other on his abs. He was squinting at the camera with a lopsided smile. The waistband of his Calvin Klein’s peeking out of his low hung jeans, leaving nothing to your imagination.
Your eyes raked up his abs to his pecs then his neck and finally landed on his biceps. You bit your lower lip as you saw the faintest hint of a tattoo on his shoulder. It wasn’t fully visible which you thought was the appeal, leaving them wanting more and whatnot.
Another swipe brought you a photo of him with a redheaded woman with his arms around her shoulders while she buried her face in his chest and he kissed her forehead.
One more swipe, one more photo of him with a different woman. This time with a blonde and they were stepping out of a limousine. You swiped again and this time he was with a black haired woman, eating ice cream on the pier like he was straight out of a romcom.
You rolled your eyes and swiped again only to be met with another photoshoot of him completely shirtless in bed and covered in lipstick marks.
It would have you dripping if you hadn’t seen the million photos with different women he had before this.
Another rich kid with daddy’s money who thinks he can sleep with anyone he wants.
“Ahem,” Andy coughed. “My phone please,” he grinned.
“Um yeah,” you shook your head and handed him back his phone.
“So?”
“So he’s a spoiled rich kid who has never had to work a day in his life to earn money. So he does shirtless photoshoots every once in a while just to boost his ego or maybe get more people to sleep with him in case the rich thing doesn’t work,” you scoffed.
“Or the abs thing or the biceps thing or the hair thing,” Andy went on.
“Andy,” you sighed, shutting the cap of your highlighter. “He’s a client I’m supposed to interview and you’re supposed to take photos of. Nothing else.”
“Do you think I could convince Linda to let me take shirtless photos of him?” Andy asked.
“Sure buddy,” you smiled at him before pulling out the tube of lip gloss from your purse to touch up your make up.
“You ready?” Andy checked.
“Let’s do this,” you took a deep breath and dabbed your lips before getting out of the car.
You entered the building with Andy following behind you, holding his camera equipment. The two of you made your way towards the front desk when Andy suddenly whined out loud, making you look back at him.
“What?” You asked.
“I forgot the extra reels in the car, go ahead I’ll catch up,” he muttered, handing you his tripod and jogged back towards the parking lot.
You shrugged and watched him run behind you through the glass doors. It wasn’t until your mindless steps caused the tripod –much taller than you to collide with someone that you finally looked.
“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, looking at the man clad in a tailored suit. He quickly tipped his head back and covered his nose with his hand before letting out a string of curses. “Sorry I wasn’t looking! Are you okay?”
He finally looked down at you and his sharp blue eyes quickly turned softer, any hint of annoyance he might have had suddenly gone.
“A pretty little lady like you just broke my nose, the pleasure is all mine,” he grinned and leaned down to offer you his free hand.
“Oh um,” you blushed and collected your things in one hand before accepting his handshake. “I’m sorry,” you repeated and rummaged through your purse to pull out a tissue.
The man stayed leaning back and you stood on your tippy toes to press the tissue to his nose to stop the bleeding.
“That’s bleeding oh my god you’re bleeding,” you swallowed.
“It’s okay I’ve had worse,” he replied in a muffled voice due to half of his face still being covered.
“Um, I'll pay for the medical expenses!”
“That’s okay pretty,” he chuckled. “You can, however, pay me back with your phone number.”
“What?” Your eyes widened as you saw him pull out his phone. “Are you serious? I broke your nose and you’re asking for my number? Do you have a concussion?”
“Maybe your beauty has just hypnotised me,” he grinned through the blood now coming onto his lips.
“Hey!” Andy called out, running up to you. “Everything okay?” He checked and looked between you and the man.
“I broke his nose,” you sheepishly replied, “Let me call 911,” you pulled your phone out but the man suddenly grabbed your wrist, causing you to pause.
“I told you I’m fine, it’s probably not even broken anyway,” he shook his head.
“I can’t just leave you like this!” You protested.
“I told you how you can repay me,” he shrugged and just as you were about to reply, Andy’s phone went off.
“Shoot we’ll be late,” he muttered and took the tripod from your hands. “Come on.”
“I-” You glanced between the man and Andy who was now running towards the elevator. “I’m sorry I have a really important meeting,” you apologised and rummaged through your purse again to grab something.
That something turned out to be a wrinkled 20 dollar bill that you pressed in the man’s palm. “There you go!” You called out before running after Andy.
“Our first day here and you’ve already made an impression,” Andy chuckled, pressing the button for the floor you were supposed to meet the Waynes at.
“Gosh it’s my first cover story Andy and I’ve already injured someone. I can't do this,” you gasped once inside the elevator.
“Hey,” Andy’s voice turned softer as he looked at you. “I know you and you’re an amazing writer, you will ace this. You already apologised and offered to pay and he didn’t want it, what else could you have done?”
You sighed, “I think I’m just nervous.”
“And it’s natural, just remember Dick Grayson is waiting in that room,” Andy grinned.
“Fuck off!” You laughed and elbowed him in the stomach.
“Ready?” Andy checked once the elevator came to a stop.
“Ready,” you nodded and stepped out of the elevator and into the office area.
You and Andy approached the front desk where Bruce Wayne’s assistant was sitting and flashed your ID cards at her, indicating that you were from the magazine for the interview.
She gave you a practiced smile and asked you to follow her to Bruce’s office. You two waited outside for a minute while she went inside and informed him about your arrival.
“I’ll be right here if you need anything,” she told you before stepping away from the double doors so you could go in.
“Thank you,” you smiled at her in return before closing the doors behind you and Andy.
The room was polished and squeaky clean. In fact, you could probably see your own reflection if you looked at the marble floors hard enough. There was a lounge area with a white couch and matching chairs along with a coffee table in the corner of the room. The massive space was however mostly filled out by a big desk in the middle of the room, pushed a bit towards the back wall that had tall bookshelves. There was a family portrait of Bruce Wayne and his parents you had guessed -right behind his desk chair.
You gave the room a once over before your eyes landed on everyone in the room and you realised just who you were interviewing.
There were four men currently in the room along with one woman. One glance at her told you she was supposed to be Bruce’s adoptive daughter, Cassandra and her face told you she looked harmless enough.
What unnerved you were the men. Clad in suits.
The ratio was way off, you had never been around this many strange rich men alone before this and the fact that they were all wearing suits wasn’t really helping you.
It was a fine enough idea in practice but to actually be here on your own for a cover story of Gotham’s Royalty was beginning to dawn on you.
Your eyes drifted towards the chair Bruce was sitting in right behind his desk, clad in a grey and black suit sans the tie. His eyebrows were sharp, almost giving you the impression that he was mad but apparently that’s just how he looked.
Your gaze shifted towards his left and landed on a much much smaller boy sitting on a stool next to Bruce. He was wearing a green turtleneck under a brown suede jacket and his hair was standing straight in spikes, you guessed he was the youngest because of the sheer size of him so he must be Damian.
Behind him on the windowsill, sat another boy slightly bigger than Damian. He wore a red shirt with a black blazer as he perched on the windowsill with an iPad in his hand. Timothy, the second youngest.
Next was the boy in a leather jacket and dress pants who was sitting on an armchair next to his sister –Cassandra. He was busy in a conversation with her as they both kept talking over each other. You guessed he was Jason based on the leather jacket and the white streak in his hair that you’d read about once.
One of them was missing.
You didn’t get the chance to dwell on it though because Andy gave you a sharp pat on the back, urging you to talk.
“Hello!” You blurted out then side eyed Andy. “We’re here for the interview, pleased to meet you,” you smiled, introducing yourself and holding your hand out for Bruce Wayne to shake.
He got up from his desk and shook your hand with a less stern expression than before, “Bruce Wayne,” he nodded.
“Andrew,” Andy added, shaking his hand as well.
Bruce walked over to the couch with such an effortless grace in his body it was almost chilling. But he was born into this life, he probably had to learn how to do the rich people walk when he was probably three years old.
He gestured for you and Andy to join him and you quickly obliged, taking a seat on one of the chairs.
“Shall we begin?” You asked, pulling out your tape recorder and notebook.
“One of my sons is late, he’ll be here in a minute I’m sure,” Bruce said.
“Oh we can go over the basics until then?” You offered. “Just to prep you.”
“Sure,” he nodded and leaned back, spreading his arm over the backrest.
“Can you tell me yours and your family’s name?” You read from the list of questions in front of you and almost cringed at how it sounded but you were advised to always ask basic and easy questions first to get the interviewee in the zone –according to Linda, your boss.
“I’m Bruce Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises. I have four sons and a daughter. Richard, Cassandra, Jason, Tim and Damian. In that order,” came his curt response.
“I’m the only blood son,” Damian chimed in. “You should specify that.”
“Everyone knows that twat, you keep saying it every chance you get,” Jason rolled his eyes.
Before Damian could come up with a harsher quip, the door swung open and stepped in Richard. Your eyes instinctively went to his face which was set in a hard expression –jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed.
His large frame was covered with black dress pants, perfectly tailored to fit him just right. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt over it, tucked neatly in his pants. The top two buttons were undone showing just a glimpse of his muscular chest. His suit jacket was draped over his forearm in a wrinkled heap.
You were beginning to understand how he got so many partners.
“Dick you’re late,” Bruce’s voice echoed.
“Yeah sorry,” he sighed a reply and walked over to the windowsill beside the couch and leaned back on it. “Had an accident,” he added and finally looked down at you.
His furrowed brows suddenly turned softer, giving his eyes a look of relief as his jaw involuntarily unclenched and morphed into an easy smile.
“Well hello there,” he smiled at you.
“Hi,” you shook yourself out of your trance and greeted him, “You must be Richard.”
“Please call me Dick.”
“Richard’s fine,” you corrected, causing Jason to let out a whistle.
“Why do you have blood on your shirt?” Cassandra asked Dick.
“Ran into someone,” Dick replied and wiped his nose with a tissue, eyes never leaving yours.
That’s when the realisation dawned on you that it was Richard Grayson whose nose you broke.
Your eyes widened and with the way Dick was smirking he knew you finally caught on.
Your eyes went even more wide when you realised you not only broke his nose but also handed him a twenty dollar bill.
The same Richard Grayson who was quite literally a millionaire. Richard Grayson who you were supposed to be seeing almost every day for a week (more than that if needed).
How badly did you even want this job anyway? Sorting mail at the Daily Planet was surely better than your nightmare unfolding right in front of you.
“Oh my god,” you muttered under your breath, eyes still blown wide and staring at Dick.
“You okay?” Tim asked you.
“Yeah sorry,” you replied, quickly recovering from the moment’s mortification.
It was okay. It would be okay. You would apologise to Dick, offer to make it up to him so you could do your job and it would be OKAY. Because just the thought of going back to eating instant noodles for dinner three days in a row was enough to make you shake in fear.
You blinked once before your eyes found their way back to Dick who was now staring at you with his head tilted to the side, hands stuffed in the pocket of his pants while that infamous Dick Grayson smirk stayed prominent on his rosy lips.
“Pathetic,” Damian scoffed from the armrest of the couch, making your eyes widen.
“Sorry?” You asked in disbelief, looking at the scowling boy.
“Ignore him, he sniffs glue,” Jason drawled.
“He what-” You asked again, eyes going wide in complete confusion and surprise.
“He doesn’t, Jason is just a dick,” Tim rolled his eyes and plopped down next to Bruce on the couch.
“Hey don’t use my name as an insult,” Dick frowned from his perch on the windowsill.
Damian in response reached over Cassandra’s lap and flicked Jason’s forehead causing him to gasp in disbelief before he flicked Damian back on the nose.
Soon enough they were both giving each other light smacks over Cassandra’s lap before Dick finally grabbed the collar of Damian’s jacket and pulled him back.
“Cut it out!” Dick’s voice boomed, suddenly turning four octaves deeper.
His deep voice in that tone made you cross your legs despite yourself as you bit your lower lip and tried to stop your mind from going places that included Dick and his sexy voice murmuring things in your ear that would have you panting under different circumstances.
This is not what you should be thinking about right now.
“Sorry, please go on,” Dick turned towards you and flashed you another one of his smiles.
“Right um, Mr. Grayson-”
“Dick.”
“Richard,” you reiterated, causing Cass and Tim to snicker among themselves. “It says you’re a philanthropist in Blüdhaven?”
“Yeah I’m kinda everywhere,” he chuckled.
“What do you mean?”
“I do own an apartment there but I’m also here in Gotham most days,” he shrugged like it was normal to have multiple homes in different cities.
“Wow,” you muttered before you could stop yourself. “Rich people are just so troubled aren’t they?”
You saw Dick visibly retreat into the curtains as his face began turning pink.
You sure as hell wouldn’t apologise for that comment.
“Mr. Wayne,” you began, looking at Bruce now. “What do you have to say in response to people recently claiming that you and your family don't use your wealth to help the citizens of Gotham?” you asked, reading from the notes.
“I would say we’re always working on doing more for the community, giving the city back in every single way we can. Martha Wayne foundation has been working hard with the homelessness issue the city deals with and we’re working each day to make it better.”
You nodded in response and quickly scribbled everything down while Andy flashed a few candid shots.
“Mr. Todd-”
“For fuck’s sake please it’s Jason,” Jason cringed and you decided to stick with first names, refusing to go through the same thing over and over.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, a slow blush creeping over your face at Jason smirking at you. “Erm Jason, it says here that you-”
“Died? Yeah I did,” he clicked his tongue.
You stared at him with wide eyes but he just laughed in response, causing you to bite the inside of your lip in anxiousness.
They weren’t making this easy.
“Dude,” Dick muttered to Jason.
“Anyway,” you let out and turned towards Bruce instead and read off the questions submitted by people out loud without checking it first, “Mr. Wayne, your image as Gotham’s most eligible bachelor has been intact for years now, long before you even had children, do you…” you trailed off, eyebrows nearly shooting to your hairline at the intrusive question.
“Oh I’m sorry,” you quickly reiterated, “I don’t know why that was a question, you don’t have to answer that it’s so rude.”
Bruce’s lips twitched in response as his shoulders sagged which you took as a smile. He leaned forward and you straightened up as he looked directly at you with such intensity you could cry.
“Are you new?” He asked with a whisper of your name.
“Y-yeah I moved here from Metropolis, I was an intern at the Daily Planet,” you swallowed.
“Well,” he began. “You should know that’s all that anyone’s ever been interested in when it comes to Bruce Wayne.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“I know.”
“Sorry let’s start again I’m sorry,” you shook your head.
“You don’t need to apologise so much,” Jason pointed.
“Right. Sorry,” you replied. “Shit,” you cursed before the realisation caused your eyes to widen at what you just said. “I didn’t mean to swear I mean- like not shit shit just. God I’ve said it again now I meant-”
“Do you have the afternoon off?” Bruce asked suddenly, cutting you off.
“Y-yeah,” you replied with a gulp.
“I have a meeting I need to attend. We can stick to writing about the work we do here and taking photos around the building for today if that’s okay with you.”
You knew what he was doing. And you weren’t too proud to not accept his offer.
“That works perfectly, thanks!” Andy quickly replied and grabbed your hand, practically dragging you out of the office.
“What’s going on with you!?” He whisper-yelled once you reached the elevator. “You never mess up like that!”
“I don’t know!” You cringed and covered your face with your hands.
“You broke Dick Grayson’s nose!” He exclaimed.
“I didn’t know!” You cried. “I’m so getting fired.”
“Wait up!” You heard someone call out from behind you.
You turned around and saw Dick, jogging towards you.
“Fuck he wants to fire me,” you muttered to Andy.
“Be cool,” he replied.
“Hi,” Dick grinned, stopping right in front of you.
“Hi?” You replied with a confused expression.
Great, now a man who has never had to work a day in his life was going to fire you and there was nothing you could do about it. It was going to do wonders for your ego.
“So you want someone to show you around the office? Everyone else will be in the meeting,” he offered.
“You’re not here to fire me?” You asked before you could stop yourself.
“Fire you?” Dick laughed. “Why would I fire you?”
“Because I broke your nose,” you grimaced.
“I told you, I’m fine,” he shrugged, offering you a practiced charming grin that he probably used to get out of all sorts of trouble.
“We would love it if you could show us around,” Andy went on before you could reply, earning a stomp of your heel on his shoe.
“Mr. Wayne has asked for Mr. Andrew to be present for the meeting in the conference room to take photos,” Bruce’s assistant popped her head out of the glass doors and smiled at Andy.
He grinned at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes that you couldn’t decode. With a quick wave of his hands, he was off. Leaving you all alone with nothing but the anxiety in your stomach and a very handsome Dick Grayson.
“Let’s start our tour then,” Dick nodded and pressed a button on the elevator.
Once inside, he stood near the panel with you on the opposite wall.
He leaned back with one hand in the pocket of his pants, the other toying with his bottom lip that sported a lazy grin while his eyes were busy going up and down your frame.
His gaze took all of you in, beginning from your heels to the top of your stockings to the hem of your skirt to finally the littlest cleavage he could see in the fitted dress shirt you wore which clinged to your waist like a second skin.
You swallowed and clutched your folder tighter around your torso as if to shield yourself from his piercing gaze.
“Nice glasses,” Dick commented.
“Thanks,” you replied in a low voice and pushed them up your nose.
“Suit your face pretty well,” he went on.
“That’s why I chose them,” you bit your bottom lip to stop a smile from spreading on your face in case it gave him the wrong idea.
“You’ve got great taste then,” he said next.
“You could say that,” you nodded.
The elevator stopped, indicating that you had arrived on your floor. Dick gestured for you to step out first with a wave of his hand then followed behind.
“This is the front desk as you would have guessed, you spent quite a time here today,” Dick said, eyeing you with amusement.
“Right,” you replied and avoided his gaze.
“So,” Dick began, walking beside you towards the fountain in the centre of the building. “You drink coffee?”
“Yeah?” You replied in confusion.
“Wanna get one with me?” He offered.
“Oh no thanks,” you gently turned him down. “That’s nice of you.”
“Are you sure? I did get twenty dollars richer today," he pressed and flashed the said bill in front of you.
You felt your entire face heat up at that as you looked down at your heels clacking against the polished floor. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“It was perfectly on the right foot,” Dick argued. “Story of a lifetime, a pretty girl hit me in the face. Believe it or not, that doesn’t happen a lot.”
“I’m sure, Richard,” you held yourself back from rolling your eyes at his ego. You were supposed to be making amends with him, not let his ego piss you off.
“It’s Dick,” he corrected again.
“I would assume that’s a nickname and nicknames are reserved for friends, we are just coworkers for the week. So I’d rather call you Richard,” you explained.
“Extreme technicality," Dick mused. “But no, everyone calls me Dick even the people I don’t know, I haven’t gone by Richard since I was four and my mom called me that every time I pissed her off,” he chuckled.
“Must have been a lot then,” you muttered and fortunately, he didn’t hear you. Or he did and decided to ignore it.
You gnawed on your bottom lip and eyed his handsome face before letting out an exasperated breath. “Okay, Dick.”
“There it is!” He beamed.
“How do you even get ‘Dick’ from Richard,” you asked, looking at him from the corner of your eyes as you two continued to walk around.
“Well you ask really really nicely,” Dick smirked.
“What- Oh,” you groaned. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I’m greatly offended now and the only way you’ll get me on your good side is by agreeing to get coffee with me.”
“You’re manipulating me,” you narrowed your eyes at his smug face.
“One of my many talents,” he replied.
“Do you flirt with everyone like this?” You asked with a raise of your eyebrow.
“Only with people who break my nose,” he quipped.
“Wow,” you mused.
“Is it working?” He asked.
“Not in the least,” you clicked your tongue and swallowed the profanities threatening to spill out from you.
You were supposed to be professional here and he wasn’t even taking you seriously. You clutched the folder in your hands tighter as you recalled that his response to you hitting him in the face was a pick up line.
He hadn’t even assessed the injury before a flirty comment left his pretty mouth. You felt yourself getting mad at the permanent smirk on his face because he knew exactly what it did and he was trying it on you and it wasn’t exactly not not working on you.
“Damn it,” Dick huffed dramatically.
“You know you’re supposed to be showing me around so I can write about the work environment here,” you reminded him.
“You’re right,” Dick agreed. “Let’s begin at the food court where we can get that coffee we talked about.”
“Cheap food court coffee, really Mr. Grayson?” You chided with a click of your tongue. “I’d have assumed you had a black Amex or something.”
“I'm saving that for Friday when we go on our date,” he shrugged.
“Oh, our date on Friday! Right,” you nodded along.
“See? We’re already on the same page.”
“Dick,” you said, making him look at you. “What are you doing?”
“Asking you out on a date,” he smiled, popping those dimples.
“And I’m politely rejecting you.”
“Why?” He frowned.
“Why? Because I don’t want to,” you shrugged.
“Give me a reason.”
“There’s no reason Dick. Believe it or not, women can be immune to your charms,” you rolled your eyes, getting irritated at his ego.
“That hasn’t happened yet,” he mumbled.
“I’m sure,” you scoffed lightly. “We need to get back to work because I do have to work to make money.”
“Right,” he replied with a light shrug but on the inside, Dick was spiralling.
He stood frozen for a beat and eyed as you effortlessly chatted and smiled at the receptionist and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why you didn’t smile at him like that.
Instead he got an eye roll and a scoff.
He wasn’t the womanising ‘ladies man’ the media made him out to be. Every single shot of him that paps got with different women were often his friends –including Barbara and Steph. Those photos were posted online with extremely creative headlines which Dick always laughed at, often with Barbara and Steph.
But he also knew that he didn’t have a problem talking to people –everyone knew that. He had always loved talking to people, ever since he was a kid in the circus. He was often found talking to strangers and with his need to always put on a charming performance, people liked him back.
So when he got the feeling that for some reason you didn’t, he didn’t know how to take it.
Especially when he was quite taken by you. By your glasses and the way your skirt ended just above your knees, short enough to show the lace hem of your see through stockings.
Your glossy lips along with the stick peeking out of your perfectly done bun. He didn’t want to feel attracted towards two strands of hair falling on your face but he did and he sure as hell wouldn’t apologise for that.
And for whatever reason, his usual smiles didn’t work on you. Not even for a coffee.
He had thought it was the embarrassment of the accident you two had but clearly you didn’t seem like the type to dwell on things.
Surely it couldn’t be him.
He was a well liked and a quite attractive man and he wouldn’t deny that.
The whole day he tried shrugging it off. He told himself that you were probably just stressed or that you didn’t know him well enough that’s why you had turned him down. Or that maybe he had come on a bit too strong.
Either way he was going to make it right and he would earn a smile from you in return.
okay i know nothing about how journalism works so please bear with me!
yay im so glad to be reposting it🥹 i’ve already written till chapter four and i don’t even know how many more chapters there will be, i just hope you guys dont get bored🤧
likes comments and reblogs are appreciated! hope you enjoy <3
CONSISTS OF ↬ Dick Grayson would do anything for your love, and he will do anything to make sure everyone else sees it.
── .✦ clark kent. bruce wayne. jason todd.
| navi. | masterlist. | dc masterlist. |
bf!dick grayson who thinks it’s adorable when you leave lipstick marks on him. He’ll catch sight of the red (or pink, or berry) stain on his cheekbone and grin like he just won the lottery.
bf!dick grayson who will purposely tilt his head toward your lips so you “accidentally” get him when you’re kissing his jaw or temple. He’ll laugh, “Oops, look what you did… guess you have to give me another one now.”
bf!dick grayson who absolutely shows them off. He’ll walk into the kitchen at the manor with your mark still fresh, and if anyone stares, he shrugs with that boyish grin: “What? Can’t help it if I’m loved.”
bf!dick grayson who will pull his collar down a little lower if you leave one on his neck. Of course, it's just so everyone definitely sees it. He’ll say, “Oh, this? Yeah, my girlfriend’s got good aim.”
bf!dick grayson who has a favorite spot.. right on his cheekbone near his dimple. He claims it’s because it looks like a stamp of approval, but really he just loves that he can feel it faintly when he smiles.
bf!dick grayson who’ll purposely not wipe off the lipstick mark when you've kissed him goodnight after a date. He’ll sleep with it still there, because the thought of going to bed with your kiss “saved” on him makes him warm inside.
bf!dick grayson who teases you whenever he's kissing you a bit too sloppily. “Better watch out, sweetheart — people are gonna think I’m the one leaving marks all over you.”
bf!dick grayson who loves when you’re sitting on his lap, and you’ll kiss all over his face until he’s covered in different shades of lipstick. He’ll look in the mirror after and laugh so hard, saying, “I look like a modern art project… the masterpiece is yours, babe.”
bf!dick grayson who’s dramatic about it too. If you kiss him right before he has to go on a mission, he’ll touch the spot and say, “This is my lucky charm now. You better kiss me again if you want me back in one piece.”
bf!dick grayson who will grin if you smudge your lip gloss onto his lips when you kiss, and lick it off slowly, teasing: “Mmm, raspberry gloss. You know, I could get addicted to this.”
bf!dick grayson whose absolute favorite? When you leave one just below his ear. He’ll catch your wrist, lean close, and whisper with that playful lilt, “That’s dangerous territory, sweetheart… do it again.”
bf!dick grayson who will deliberately angle his face so you get him in obvious places.. cheekbone, corner of his mouth, the curve of his neck. Then he won’t wipe them off. Instead, he’ll head out to grab coffee, smirking when people stare at the faded lip shapes.
bf!dick grayson who likes your lipstick prints lower when it’s just the two of you. You'll start trailing kisses down from his throat to his collarbones, scattered across his chest, down his abs. He flexes just a little when you lean down to leave another, so you’ll notice how hard his body is under your lips.
bf!dick grayson who groans whenever your gloss smears over his mouth after a kiss, but instead of cleaning it off, he’ll chase your lips again, licking into your mouth just to taste the gloss mixed with you.
bf!dick grayson who loves catching your wrist mid-kiss, pinning you down for a second just so he can murmur against your mouth, “You know I’m not washing this off, right? Everyone’s gonna know I’m yours.”
bf!dick grayson who does not take this lightly. If you tease him by threatening to wipe the marks away, he’ll physically grab your hand and stop you — playful grin but eyes darker than his tone — “Don’t even think about it. You put them there, they stay.”
summary: after a month of secret rendezvous', anonymous flowers, and sneaky closet kisses, your relationship with your boss's son remains undefined. a wayne enterprise's gala (and a little help from jason) reveals the true extent of dick's feelings for you.
tags: fluff, dick is an idiot, he also yearns again, kissing, no smut again sowwy, 2 specific facts listed about reader bc of plot purposes, reader is mentioned to have hair
wc: 5116
part two to hard to impress!
"there are flowers on your desk,"
you jumped at the sound of bruce wayne's voice cutting through the silence of the break room. you had just arrived at the building, opting to make your morning beverage before heading over to your desk in front of bruce's office.
this was the moment. this was the moment your boss was to find out that you had a relationship with his son. his stupidly gorgeous son, who was infuriatingly charming, and constantly made you want to punch the smile off his face.
"oh! are there? that's weird, right? or?" you snapped your mouth shut, a sharp exhale exiting your nose. stupid, stupid, stupid. bruce gazed you with a puzzled look. his eyes flickered from your eyes and roved over your body language — analyzing too closely for your liking. you stood up completely still, giving him an innocent smile that bordered a grimace.
"no… i'm simply letting you know that there are flowers on your desk," he stated slowly, placatingly as if you were a deer that was about to bolt. his brow raised slightly, and you knew he was cataloguing every single one of your reactions. you hated when he did that, hated how he saw every little thing you did. "that is the fourth time in two weeks."
"no it's not," you blurted out quickly again.
"yes, it is?"
"okay," you quickly left the break room without grabbing your mug, making a beeline for your desk. bruce was stunned in the break room, blinking at the now empty spot where you had just been standing. your behaviour for the past few weeks had been puzzling him, to say the least.
the bouquet on your desk was embarrassingly loud. a mix of bright reds, greens, and pinks — dick was doing this on purpose at this point. he was trying to kill you with embarrassment. this was fun for him. you hated him.
the flowers were never signed, but you knew who sent them. entering into a relationship with your boss's son was not what you had expected when you got hired as bruce wayne's secretary. you also didn't know if you could call what you had with dick a 'relationship'. yes — he had taken you out for dinner dates. yes — you two had kissed once, twice, three times, in the closet during work, little pecks and full mouth kisses when the two of you were alone; comfortably, like it was as natural as breathing. yes — he sent you flowers quite often. but he had yet to tell you explicitly if he liked you beyond some attraction? if he actually wanted a relationship with you, or if this was just fun for him. it was complicated.
your interactions in the office remained the same — though it mostly seemed to be the same on your end. he was charming as ever, testing your boundaries, seeing how far he could push and push, and fucking push until you snapped on him again. you were starting to realize that he liked seeing you riled up. he liked being on the receiving end of your frustration. the sparkle in his eyes ignited when he saw your nostrils begin to flair and he always left before you could retaliate. he was a piece of shit.
you sat down in your chair was a huff, setting the flowers on the edge of your desk. dick was in the office today, you could hear his voice across the floor, strong, sure, confident. he was talking to another woman, one of your coworkers — sierra, her name was. she was kind, intelligent, a soft kind of pretty that didn't overpower her other defining qualities. her father worked on the accounting team, he was as reliable as she was, known by everyone. the two of you were friends. allies in the office. his gaze met yours over the top of her head, a small smirk ghosting through his words as he looked over the file they were conversing over.
you tilted your head at him, a brow raising slightly as you tried to decipher his intentions. you knew that smirk. that quirk of his lip that meant he was playing a game. then you saw him move. the cross of his arms in front of his chest as he excused himself from his conversation with sierra. his steps — as confident as his voice, as the way he carries his body — a familiar thud against the tile floor. he stopped in front of your desk, leaning over you. his blue eyes flickered from the bouquet of flowers and over to you.
"pretty flowers there, sweetheart, just like you," his head tilted in return, matching yours. the smug expression remained on his face.
"you have to stop sending me flowers at work," you grumbled back, shooting him a small glare. his whispy tendrils framed his face easily, breathtakingly. it was just hair but you couldn't look away. he made it hard to want to look away. you could spend the rest of your life with him as your only view, and you would never complain. he was worth it, worth everything. perfect. you tried to resist the hold he had over you, especially since there was nothing official between you.
"no can do," he stated simply, shaking his head. again, his hair caught your attention. the strands swishing with every turn of his head. the world moved in response to him, rather than the other way around. he had a magnetic pull that kept everything in his orbit tethered to him. you hated yourself for getting stuck in that orbit.
"people are getting suspicious, dick, bruce is getting suspicious," you whispered in return softly, though there was no real malice in your tone. a slow, lazy smirk spread across his lips as he leaned just slightly further over your desk — not enough to be noticeable, but enough cause the air to leave your lungs.
"that's the fun in it, sweetheart," he murmured back, the smirk still present on his face. "still wanna keep you my little secret for a little while longer."
before you could respond, his posture straightened and he turned to the side. he sensed bruce before you did, obviously. he knew everyone's exact whereabouts in the room. he had sensed bruce's presence the second he had entered the office floor. "bruce."
as much as you tried to ignore the whispers of doubt swirling in your mind, you couldn't help but let them fester. you didn't know what you were expecting from dick, or what you had even wanted from him. but it bothered you that he had yet to explicitly tell you after a month of seeing each other consistently.
"dick. you're here today," bruce gave him a small smile of surprise. you saw the way bruce's shoulders relaxed slightly in the presence of dick, a testament to the bond he shared with his son.
"thought you could use an extra set of hands for the morning," he smiled back, clapping his hand on bruce's shoulder. you felt like you were a part of a conversation that you did not need to be involved in. their eye contact was charged with an electric current that only seemed to connect the two of them, like they could speak a secret language simply by staring into each others eyes.
bruce nodded, stepping closer to your desk, his hand absentmindedly resting on the top of it. "you'll be coming to the gala tonight?" his gaze was focused solely on dick, his tone leaving no room for an argument.
dick's mouth opened, a breath of a protest was on his tongue.
"you are coming tonight. i will be expecting you there at 7'o'clock, richard," bruce stated, daring dick to protest again. dick's shoulders slumped slightly, a hint of a pout on his lips. you tried to fight a smile at his antics, a laugh fighting to break through your throat as bruce left him no choice but to attend tonight's gala. you weren't really required to attend galas, usually they were up to your own decision if you were feeling inclined to make an appearance or not.
"and you will be there as well" bruce turned his sharp gaze to you, pining you to your seat. your eyes widened as panic flared through your chest. noooooooo. that was the last thing you wanted to do. attend a gala with a bunch of snobby rich people? there was a reason you hadn't attended one yet.
"mr. wayne, i don't-" you sat up in your chair, your eyes wide with panic. you could see dick's shoulders moving with the force of his own stifled laughs. you glared at him, shooting him a look full of venom. you wanted to kill him.
"yes you will. 7 o'clock sharp," bruce's eyes narrowed between you and dick, lingering on the soft smile on dick's face, despite his mocking laughing. "you will leave this office at 3 pm. i've already arranged an outfit to be delivered to your apartment. someone will be around at 4 o'clock to get you ready. driver at 6:30."
"really, sir, it's not necessary-" you attempted again. you were practically pleading at this point. you knew you would be unable to play the part, to fit in with a crowd that existed in a different tax bracket than yours.
"i'm receiving an award tonight, recognition for my philanthropic contributions, everyone of importance in my life will be there. that includes you," his tone softened as his hand gently cupped the bottom of your chin for a moment before dropping it away. you felt the finality laced with sincerity of his words through his touch.
your relationship with bruce was always professional, but there was an undercurrent that transcended a simple secretary and boss relationship. you had to spend hours upon hours with him at times, arrange for his life, his company — there were times where he felt like a parental figure.
"yeah… okay, i'll be there," you didn't want to concede to bruce's demand request, but you felt like you had no choice in the matter. you could be who bruce wanted you to be tonight. it was only one night of your life. plus, dick would be there, so you would be fine, right? right?
"who are the flowers from," bruce nodded his head towards the towering bouquet, almost conversationally, borderline accusatory. his analytical gaze bore back into your eyes.
"yeah, sweetheart, who are the flowers from?" dick's voice cut in, equally as inquisitive as bruce's. his hand rested under his chin as his tongue poked into his cheek. oh, you were so going to kill him. you were absolutely going to kill him.
"probably jason, i took notes and then filed the summary report for the meeting yesterday for him," you responded sweetly to bruce. the petals were soft under your fingertips. "doesn't he have good taste?"
the smile instantly dropped from dick's face and satisfaction filled your chest. the innocent smile on your face dripped in triumph at dick's reaction.
"that's kind of him. he must like you," bruce nodded in agreement, his own fingers reaching out to touch the petals. dick looked between yourself and bruce, his eyes wide with betrayal. his shoulders were rigid with restraint as he tried to play off his distaste for yours and bruce's conversation.
"jason likes whom?" dick attempted casually through a cough.
bruce rolled his eyes, his mask schooling into an unimpressed look. he wasn't in the mood for dick's antics, "i don't have time for this, dick, ask him yourself. i need you to go look over the weapons sector for me."
"yeah, let me finish talking to-" bruce didn't let dick finish his sentence before dragging him away towards the elevator. dick threw you a small pout over his shoulder as he let bruce pull him by the arm.
────୨ৎ────
you couldn't do this.
it was 7:30. 30 minutes since you had arrived at the gala. the dress bruce picked for you was laid on your bed when you had arrived home. two women had arrived at 4 o'clock sharp and had you ready and in the car by 6:30 — just as bruce said they would. not that you had ever doubted his word, he had never given you a reason not to trust him.
except now. now, you were upset at the fact that neither bruce, nor dick were anywhere to be seen. you felt out of place, despite looking the part.
the room was full of luxury and wealth, a golden tint that glittered the jewels adorned across all the women's necks. every dress you had seen so far was nothing short of perfect. the kind of perfection that could only be purchased; the kind of perfection that exceeded your comprehension of monetary value. you didn't even want to think about how much the dress you were wearing costed bruce for the night.
you had stood near the back wall, simply observing the crowd of people that was already here. you didn't want to be perceived by anyone, though you knew it was inevitable that you would be noticed. whether you had stood alone in the middle of the room, or near the edge of the room — you had yet to master comfortability in such spaces.
a presence slipped into the space behind you and slightly off to the side, their back pressing against the wall as well. jason. it was just jason. you relaxed immediately, easing into the comfort of a familiar presence. you and jason weren't close by any means, barely even considering him more than another person who you had to answer to at work — that didn't mean that there wasn't an unspoken word of respect between you. the two of you understood each other silently, were able to fall in an easy and comfortable rhythm without having to speak.
that's why you instantly squared your shoulders and slid back in place beside him. you had someone in your corner finally, someone who you could find comfort in within this uncomfortable situation. still, the two of you didn't talk. he was wearing a regular black suit, black tie. his hair was combed out, bordering messy in an effortless way that he had seemed to perfect. his narrowed gaze was constantly scanning across the room. brooding. he was brooding.
his gaze paused, prompting you to follow.
oh. there was bruce… and dick. and sierra. and sierra's dad. and sierra and dick. talking. laughing. hugging. her hand brushed his arm. her dad's arm wrapped around dick as the group shared teasing laughter. you could only imagine what they were speaking about. what insinuations were being made.
you diverted your gaze back towards jason. you knew that what you had with dick wasn't defined quite yet. he had told you once that you were the only girl he wanted, but words meant nothing to you. actions did. and he had yet to prove what he had said to you that first night.
"what's going on between you two," jason grumbled softly, his eyes barely wavering from the scene across the room. his gaze was locked on something. someone?
"nothing," you mumbled a little too quickly, a little too defensively for your liking. jason certainly picked up at the undertones in your words. fuck.
"right," he murmured dully. unbelieving. his arms were crossed against his broad chest, taking up space that remained unsettled in his silence.
he slowly turned to face you, cocking his head down at you. the rest of the gala faded behind you, your gaze zeroed in on jason's eyes narrowing into yours.
"you love him," he stated simply. there was no judgement in his eyes. there wasn't much of anything that you could decipher from his body language. "and he loves you. fucking disgusting" he muttered like an afterthought his eyes rolled slightly.
your breath caught at his added words.
"i wouldn't say he loves-," the denial was sour on your tongue. you didn't really know what to believe.
"yeah? you don't think so?" he cut you off, amusement evident in his tone. "then, what if i do this?" his finger brushed a strand of your hair, giving the appearance of an action that was more intimate than it was. his gaze bore unflinching into yours, daring you to look away. you wanted to. but you didn't.
"what are you doing, jason?" you whispered softly, remaining still, a hint of a frown threatening to crease your skin.
"proving my point, now shut up," he mumbled softly in return. his hand rested beside your head on the wall, providing half a barrier between you and the rest of the room. between you and dick's direct view that he had on you.
dick had noticed the second you weren't visible to him anymore. he had noticed you the second he had entered the room. how could he not? you were radiant in your dress. the corset top accentuating you in a way that had him salivating down his chin. the skirt of the dress falling perfectly down to the floor. the neutral golden brightened your skin, leaving you glowing in a way he had never seen before. you were the sunrise, a soft glow that warmed his skin and cleansed his mind. he had never seen you like this before. he had to physically restrain himself from ravaging you right there. so, of course he noticed you. his eyes always seemed to gravitate towards you, something he had never been able to control since seeing you for the first time.
sierra and her father had cornered him and bruce the second they had entered into the room — engaging in a conversation that was charged with something that dick did not want to acknowledge. not when you were right there. not when you were in his sights, looking as beautiful as you did.
and then jason had to go and stand behind you, and dick was a frozen flame of rage. it festered, pooling in his gut and rising up his throat. and jason fucking held eye contact with dick, mischief twinkling in the darkness of his gaze. bruce's words from earlier in the day rang in dick's mind: he must like you.
logically, dick knew that jason didn't like you. dick had confided in jason about you on more than one occasion. but the second he had seen jason's finger brush against your hair, all forms coherency had left his body. suddenly, he was a child. he was a teenager with tunnel vision full of rage.
he had excused himself from sierra and her father with a charming smile that felt too tight on his cheeks. he didn't miss the lingering disappointment on both of their faces that was quickly masked with practiced elegance. his feet moved on their own accord to where jason had you against the wall.
"what point are you trying to prove?" you whispered back through a hiss, attempting to peek over his shoulder. jason's behemoth form blocked any view you had into the rest of the room.
"i'm going to grab your wrist and hold it against the wall," he mumbled softly, giving you a moment to reject before his hand gently slid down your arm and circled your wrist. he pushed it up and held it against the wall. the cool tile seeped into your skin with the sign of goosebumps. "now, give him five seconds to appear behind me and rip me off of you,"
"jason, this is stupid, he's not-"
"yes he is,"
"you're so annoying, he's over with-"
"five… four… three,"
"if you're wrong, i'm going to knee you in the-"
"two…,"
dick's hand clamped onto jason's shoulder and nudged his body into the space between yourself and jason. an electric current charged the air. jason's hand fell away from your wrist easily. he wasn't holding you there tightly. he wasn't holding you at all really, you had been able to move if you wanted to. his other palm remained pressed against your head — an attempt to add fuel to the fire, you deduced. men were so stupid sometimes.
"what's going on over here?" dick's tone was cheery. too cheery. the smile he flashed the two of you was soaked in gasoline, one word away from bursting into flames.
"jason and I were-"
"getting to know each other a bit better outside of work. 's about time, yeah?" jason cut you off, but continued to stare into dick's eyes. narrowing. challenging.
"her favourite colour is navy blue, and her favourite food is fries," dick stated flatly to jason, stepping up beside you, his arm slipping around your waist and pulling you into his side. then he angled his head down to address you. his eyes instantly softened. "jason likes to read. there. now you two know each other. we done with this?"
you looked up at jason, perking up with a hint of excitement, "i love reading! what's-"
"i like reading too!" dick stated, slightly louder so you would hear him. a group of ladies nearby shot him a dirty look. his thumb gently caressed the edge of skin on your back was peeking out from your dress.
"… okay?"
"and i like reading more than jason does. all the time. constantly reading," he added quickly, blinking down at you.
"name one book you've read in the past month," jason shot back accusingly.
"no," dick mocked.
their sibling squabbling was giving you a headache. dick's touch remained soft, keeping you tethered to the moment.
"yeah, cause you don't know how to read," jason muttered back.
"you're wearing a fucking clip-on tie," dick's free hand reached up to mess with the tie. jason immediately slapped his hand away, causing dick to shove him back.
"what does my tie have to do with you not being able to read?"
"i CAN read, and that's not a real tie-"
dick turned back down to look at you again, regarding your raised brow at their argument. he flashed you a soft smile, leaning down slightly to whisper close to your cheek. "you look beautiful tonight, sweetheart. i can't stop looking at you."
you hated how your heart lurched in your chest. you hated how his words settled in your chest and branded your bones with the letters. you didn't hate it. you wanted to hate it — because you couldn't admit that you loved him, that you were in love with him. completely.
your response was lodged in your throat, a lump in your trachea that refused to swallow down. he always looked at you like he was seeing for the first time. like there was nothing else he would rather have in his view.
"i'm so happy you're here," he continued, gently nudging your cheek with his nose — something you noticed he liked to do often. the action was familiar, comforting. a trail of fire blazed along the patch of skin his nose brushed.
jason remained silent, his arms crossed back over his chest. he rolled his eyes with a shake of his head.
dick stood back up, smiling back at jason. "if you'll excuse us, jay, my date and i-"
"date?" you choked out softly, your eyes widening as you looked up at dick.
"yes, my date," dick stated as if this was factual information, a claim for everyone to hear.
"bold statement," jason added with amusement hinting in his tone. the muscle above his brow flicked slightly as the corner of his lip twitched with a smirk. "maybe ask her who's company she would prefer right now."
"alright, that's enough," dick grumbled, his arm around your waist gently guided you forward, his free hand lacing with yours as he began to pull you away.
jason's smirk widened at you as he took a half step to the side. "told you," he murmured, a quiet chuckle shaking his shoulders.
dick continued to guide you towards an exit that led to a back hallway. quiet, isolated. it was dimly lit with teh same golden hues of the lighting in the main room. "told you what? what did he tell you?" he asked immediately, pouting down at you.
he was slightly panicked as he held the door open for you, ushering you in with restrained ferocity. the second the door had shut behind him he had you pressed against the wall. "what did he tell you?"
you took a minute, your chest rising and falling from the intensity of the moment. the lack of air between you two made you dizzy. you knew he was spiraling — perhaps to the same level as you were. jason was right, you did have him under your thumb.
"nothing, dick," you whispered innocently, your hands gently rested on his chest.
"please? please, tell me you choose me? that i didn't lose you to him-" he murmured softly, leaning his forehead against yours. his eyes were tightly shut. his hands remained on your back like an anchor. grounding. he needed it to stay calm. needed you.
"you let your brother successfully ragebait you," you responded softly, attempting to stiffle your own smile.
"i wasn't ragebaited," he grumbled back, his face falling into your neck and inhaling deeply. sweet, soft, something distinctly you filled his nostrils. he wanted more.
"he was trying to prove something to me," you whispered. your fingers reached up and tangled in the back of his hair, keeping him pressed against you.
"by touching you? in front of me? when he knows i'm-" dick cut himself off quietly. a puff of breath hit the skin of your shoulder, warming your insides.
"knows you're what?" you coaxed softly. the softness of his hair reminded you of the petals of the flowers he would send you. though, the feel of dick's black strands between your fingers brought you more joy than the petal of any flower he had gifted you.
"that i'm in love with you,"
his confession hung in the air. paralyzing you with the raw agonized sincerity of his words. it was breathless, the force of the words cracking as they exited his throat. he pressed his mouth into the dip of your collarbone immediately afterwards.
"i've loved you this whole time, i love you, sweetheart, i promise. this past month with you… i've been so happy. so happy. you make me happy. i've been scared to mess up with you. i don't want to, and now i am scared that i have," he continued softly into your shoulder. his hands continued to hold you to him. press you against him. mold the feel of you into his like an imprint that was permanently etched into his skin.
you smiled back into his cheek, warmth spreading through your arms and into your shoulders.
"you're smiling," he stated, lifting his head to gaze at your face. he was practically awed, tracing the lining of your lip with a brush of his thumb. he leaned down and pressed the barest hint of a peck to your mouth. "fuck, i've been wanting to kiss you all day, sweetheart, you have no idea."
"you love me?" you murmured back, your nose scrunching slightly. the already present smile spread a little wider, leaning up to press another soft kiss to his mouth in return. he groaned, attempting to chase your mouth with his.
"yes. i do. i love you," he stated quickly, his lips pressing to yours again before traveling over the skin of your face. on your cheek. your nose. your forehead. your jaw. your other cheek. you attempted to swat him away. "what does a guy have to do to hear you say it back?"
"admit that jason got your ass," you mumbled back, breathless from his attack.
"he didn't-" dick whined, pouting at you.
"he did. but it's okay. i loved it. and i love you,"
"fuck yeah, you do," he smirked in celebration, leaning down and pressing his lips deeply to yours. his lips molded perfectly against yours, moving with the unspoken words of his previous confession. love. warming your heart and erasing your doubts. he groaned into your mouth, his fingers threading into the back of your hair to angle your head and kiss you deeper. his tongue slid against the back of your teeth, meeting yours, tasting you. this kiss was unhurried, slow, like he wanted the taste of you to settle in his mouth gradually.
"dick, my makeup and hair-" you mumbled into his mouth, though you didn't stop kissing him. he was addictive. the feel of his lips spread a haze through your mind. paralyzing. dizzying.
"looks perfect," he whispered, his free hand wrapped around your jaw, holding your chin in place. one kiss, two, three deep, languid kisses. it was a language you two had perfected with each other. a natural rhythm charged shocking electricity.
he pulled back, heaving softly. every time he kissed you, it destroyed him, and his appearance was always reflective of it. lipstick streaked across his mouth, staining him like a brand. his cheeks were flushed and pink, like he was rejuvinated by the rays of the sun on a summer morning. you managed to undo him with a simple press of your lips.
"will you be my girlfriend?" he blurted out suddenly before snapping his mouth shut. his eyes were wide, panicked once again, but unflinching. "that actually… i didn't want to ask you like that."
he was silent for a moment before adding softly, "but since i did… will you be mine? please?"
"i guess," you mumbled back with faux defeat, as if this wasn't a choice you had wanted for yourself, another hint of a smile threatened to carve into your cheeks. your muscles were starting to ache from the amount of smiling you had been doing around him. dick smiled victoriously, ravaging you with another kiss. less coordinated this time, your teeth clacking with the smiles present on both of your faces.
you pulled back suddenly, narrowing your eyes at him accusingly, "… you do know how to read though, right?"
"YES."
jason slide into the space beside bruce, just as he had done with you earlier. he remained silent as he scanned the room again, observing the fake smiles and fabricated personas of the attendees in the room.
bruce barely spared him a glance, his eyes shifting to the side before straightening ahead. he lifted the champagne flute to his lips, swallowing delicately around the liquid. he let it settle in his stomach for a moment before clearing his throat, "how long have they been seeing each other?"
"about a month."
an: i wanted to keep this short like the last one, but once again, its long. I also don't know how I feel about this one. oh well, we ball.
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆! jason finally fixes your car, but he has to make sure it still runs properly as well. for your safety, right?
𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀! afab!reader, tension, inaccurate car information, time skips
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁! 4871
𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁! find it here <3
the familiar musk of jason's shop filled your nostrils once again.
your thighs were frozen to the thin metal chair that remained beside jason's work station. the rusted legs creaked under your weight, threatening to break with each movement.
you tried not to let your mind wander this time.
the events of the prior night plagued you through visions. his arms — the way they flexed with each turn of the wheel, the way his body leaned closer to yours as he retrieved his sweater from the back seat.
his words stuck to your back for the rest of the night. "see you tomorrow, pretty girl," landing and ironing itself to your skin.
you recalled his scent — vanilla musk, mint, and the faintest hint of the cigarette he had smoked earlier that clung to the tips of his hair.
in front of you was a familiar scene. dark wash jeans, and a black t shirt. brown boots. body laid supine on a trolly underneath your car.
"how long do you think this will take?" you asked, cringing slightly from the chair's loud screeching.
"tryna get away from me that quickly, darling?" he called back. you hear the smirk in his words. smug bastard. "i'm just getting started down here."
"tim said that you said it would be an easy fix,"
jason's only response was a hum of confirmation. he hadn't lied — it was an easy fix. but he couldn't bring himself to let you leave just yet. he couldn't. he was selfish, he knew, he wanted to stay in your presence just a little longer. because you… you were off limits. you would go back to your life — school, work, tim, your friends. jason didn't believe that he needed to fit into your life alongside those factors.
"that it wouldn't take long?" you continued after his lack of response.
"that was before i saw what a mess your car is,"
"shark is reliable," your voice rang back defensively. your car was beautiful. a 99 chevy cavalier. perfect for you.
"you named your car 'shark'?" his lip curled above his top teeth. of course you had named your car. you had seemed like the type who would. the name was cute, jason would admit, you were cute, but denying it was easier than admitting it.
"yeah," your tone was flat, defensive. "it's grey, and strong — therefore, a shark."
"right," jason agreed for your sake. the name of your car didn't change his life in any way. he rolled himself out from the undercarriage and stood in front of the hood of your car.
he took a moment to inspect and assess. seeing him in his element was mesmerizing. his calculating gaze showed care and experience. his eyes roved over each part, and how they worked together.
"come here," his voice called out, head nodding invitingly. your feet were moving over to him before your brain even realized it was happening. he was a magnet, one that you didn't think you could stay away from even if you wanted to.
"see this?" he murmured as he stepped to the side to make room for you. you nodded. his finger remained pointing to a part on top of your engine. "that big thing is your engine. and this is your valve. it's leaking and is what is causing problems."
you nodded again in understanding, leaning your upper half closer to inspect it. jason tried to keep his gaze on your car as well, and keep from wandering down your back. but fuck you were so close to him. and the smell of your perfume was flooding his senses. his fingers hovered on the small of your back, fingers brushing the hem of your tank top — black this time, and just as tantalizing.
"the good thing is, your engine is fine," he explained. his words were so close to your ear, and you were aware of his proximity to your back. the way his "want me to show you how to fix it?"
your head tilted back over your shoulder to regard him. his face was so close to yours, close enough to cause your breath to hitch in your throat.
"yeah? so i can take your job?" the corner of your lip twitched upward.
jason's expression softened fractionally, his eyes roving over your face. "you think that's how this works?"
words died in your throat. his gaze on you almost stopped your heart. your lips parted to respond, a witty response ready and shaped under your tongue. yet all you could do was press your lips back together and turn back towards the car. jason was entranced by the curve of your mouth. his own mind was short-circuting, just the same as yours. at the sight of your lips pressed together, he took that as a sign to step up closer behind you.
"okay," he murmured, his arm circling you. his biceps caged you in, pressing against your shoulders. "we are gonna take this rag and wrap it around here,"
his voice was breathy against your ear, but still low and controlled. his weight against your back was grounding, yet completely debilitating. every ridge, every crevice of his chest pressed into you.
"and then, we're gonna pull," a loud pop followed the end of jason's sentence. your eyes remained on your engine under the valve, scanning, questioning.
jason's own gaze remained fixed on your face. your fascination, your concern, was evident on your features. your brows dipped slightly as your mind worked around the inner workings of your car — he was speechless by the sight.
clearing his throat, he let go of your hand and removed himself from behind you. "and, she's all fixed up,"
you immediately felt the loss. a steady chill crawled up the back of your spine. his chest had been so warm and solid against your back. a small part of you was upset at how easily jason fixed your car. you almost wished there was more wrong in order to spend more time caged in by his arms.
"thanks for fixing her up," you turned to face the front of him, gaze lifted to meet his. his height was towering, no matter the size of your own body. he commanded space. took it up without meaning to — without even wanting to. he was inescapable, a large mass that captured your attention. "how much do i owe you?"
"don't worry about it," his response was short. dismissive. nonchalant. his arm reached by your head, unhooking the hood of your car and letting it shut.
"jason." you stated, disbelieving. "i'm serious."
"so am i,"
"just tell me how much i owe you,"
"nothing. was a favour for your boyfriend," he shrugged, his expression remaining unchanging.
"he's not my boyfriend," your face contorting into a look of disgust. tim was the last person you would choose to date. especially when there was someone else on your mind, someone who happened to be standing in front of you.
"right, well, still a favour for the piece of shit,"
you gave him a look at his choice of words to describe tim. there were a few beats of silence between the two of you.
"shop policy is that we need to test run the car," he gave you a sidelong glance, his hand brushing over the hood. "make sure it's running properly."
"you do this with all your clients?" you raised a brow, unconvinced.
"can't let you go unless i know you're safe in that thing," he ignored your question, "in good conscious."
"do i get to drive?" you raised a brow.
"in your dreams," his voice muttered. he had already opened the passenger door of your car, hand gestured for you to get in.
"it's my car and i don't even get to drive," you snarked, slipping by him, your back brushed against his chest again briefly.
"as long as you're with me, you don't have to touch the wheel again," jason's voice was barely above a breath, words uttered as he shut the door after you got settled.
he hoped you hadn't heard.
he hadn't even known why he said those words. he didn't mean them. he didn't know you, and he didn't want to know you.
you were tim's friend, not his.
﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒
the front of your hood burnt the bottom of your thighs.
how you ended up in the meadow on the outskirts of town was beyond you.
jason was perched beside you, arms folded as he gazed at the over grown grass.
"this place is quite far from town," your voice drifted into jason's ears alongside the gentle breeze that swayed the grass.
he nodded, his eyes fixed ahead.
you left it at that, following his gaze ahead. there was peace in the view. an endless expanse of green that contrasted with the cut of the sharp blue sky.
"i come here quite often," he responded after a while of silence, turning to gaze up at you.
"peaceful," you added. you didn't feel the need to add more, he understand what you were implying with your words. "do you ever go sit in the field?"
he shook his head, "i like to watch from here,"
you pushed yourself off the hood of your car, feet landing on the road below. rocks crunched under the sole of your shoes, dust settling into the ankles of your jeans. "well then, let's go,"
"no," he shook his head, shifting against the hood. he looked down, knowing that if he continued to look into your eyes he would give in. jason felt himself wanting to give him, wanting to do whatever you wanted. and it was terrifying him.
you rolled your eyes at his response, "come on, jason,"
he fixed his gaze back ahead, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth. it wasn't that he didn't want to — god, he fucking wanted to. he couldn't allow himself to. you were dangerous.
you took his silence and nodded slowly. "well, i'm gonna go and enjoy myself. and you can stay here, loser,"
you smirked at him, nudging his arm before you turned around and took off running into the grassy area.
the sun cut down through the wind, warming your shoulders. you weren't gonna let jason's reluctance stop you.
jason watched you run, watched the way your arms swung by your side. his body subconsciously pushed off the hood, moving to follow you into the sun. you felt like his sun, and he couldn't help but want to orbit around you.
he let out a soft huff, his nails biting into his palm for a moment.
"fuck," he muttered under his breath before he took off running after you. it felt good, but he wouldn't admit that out loud to you. it was scary how natural this feeling was for him, how easily this path to you opened for him to chase.
it was scary how fast jason caught up to you. the head start you had was diminished in seconds. he kept a steady pace just behind you, not yet matching your pace, just watching.
the smile you flashed over your shoulder was blinding. jason almost tripped over his feet at the sight. your teeth beaming with genuine joy, your tongue peeking out from behind the top row. and then your laugh. a breathless laugh from the belly that punched into his chest.
"tag!" your hand reached back to swat at his arm, while you stumbled over the grass in the process. you righted yourself and cut immediately to the left.
you took off sprinting again in the opposite direction. the melody of your laugh continued to fill jason's void, and he followed without a second thought.
he chased after you, breath barely puffing out of his chest. he wanted to prolong this moment for as long as he possibly could, to preserve this memory in locket and wear it around his chest — he didn't even know if he would see you again after this.
all he was supposed to do was to fix your car, as per tim's instructions. that was all. it was only a favour. nothing more. yet, it felt like everything to jason in this moment. how quickly his life had been changed within a couple of days was something he was unable to comprehend.
his arm circled around your waist, lifting you up into his chest and spinning you around to carry your momentum. you gasped through a shriek, legs kicking into the air at how suddenly you were airborne.
"got you," his chest rumbled against your back. his other hand latched onto your thigh to steady you back on the ground.
"jason, oh my—" your hands gripped his arm as the world suddenly spun off it's axis. your foot caught in a hole, your body stumbled forward. the ground was approaching faster than you could process, than you could react. your eyes shut as you braced yourself for impact. you could practically feel your body hitting the ground, the grass catching between your fingertips and sticking under your nails. you were already cringing at the thought. that was gonna be a pain to get out later.
only, you didn't hit the ground — not really. your bottom did, but not as hard as you had anticipated. the back of your head was cushioned, along with your upper back. you realized it was jason by the way his knees thudded against the dirt, bracketing your thighs. jason was practically straddling you. his hand crunched beneath your head before the arm around your upper back pulled you up, hovering your body a few inches off the ground.
your eyes were wide and wild, gazing up at him.
he was so close.
again.
you had seen him up close before, the two of you had shared a few moments in a proximity that was closer than you should have been, but none of those times compared to this.
he was right there.
small freckles dusting his nose, blue irises that carried hints of green, and complete and utter perfection.
and for, jason, god he was speechless. it was instinct on his end, really. his hands moved on their own — thrumming with the desire to protect you. he would let his arms take the brunt of any pain if it had meant you would never see harm.
was he that pathetic? that you had managed to have him under your thumb within such a short time of knowing you? clearly, he was.
your fingers instinctively curled into the collar of his shirt, keeping him close. your chest was expanding with breaths that never quite sat right in your lungs, leaving you more dizzy than anything else — or was that because you were close enough to smell jason's natural musk?
jason lowered your body slowly — hand slipping from under your head, arm uncurling from your upper back and letting you rest on the grass. the green blades framed your head like a halo. angel. you were his angel.
he followed you down, unable to put space between your bodies. his hands rested beside your head, further bracketing you beneath him. his eyes roved over your form in concern.
"you okay?" he murmured softly. he checked for injuries, anything, he angled his head to gaze at your ankle — the reason why you had fallen in the first place. it looked fine to him, thankfully.
you nodded slowly, lips parted in slight shock, eyes still transfixed on his face.
"need you to say it. are you in any pain?" he repeated, gazing back into your eyes. "does your ankle hurt at all?"
"i'm okay," you swallowed thickly. "my ankle is fine."
he accepted your answer, visibly relaxing. "good."
"sorry," you blurted out, anxious from how close he was. from how you could count each and every single one of his eyelashes as they were attached to his eyelid.
"for what?" his voice was barely above a whisper. the breeze flowed through the grass, kissing over your cheeks and sending hair fluttering across your forehead. he brushed the strand back, memorizing the texture under his thumb. he knew why you were apologizing, and it was unnecessary. though, he recognized your words are more instinct than a genuine apology.
your brain blanked, subconsciously pulling him closer by the collar. closer. closer. it wasn't close enough.
jason followed willingly. it would agonize him to deny you right now, to deny himself.
his head dipped down, the tip of his nose brushed against yours. his shaky breath fanned across your lips.
"angel…" he whispered, eyes squeezing tightly. it was as if the darkness behind his lids could stop him, stop his desire for you. stop the fire that was spreading up his neck — one that could only be extinguished with the press of your lips.
he wanted it so badly, wanted you. he knew you would taste good under his tongue, that you would mold perfectly with him. his fingers dug into the ground, denting the dirt with the force of his restraint.
and when your hands slid up from his collar and onto his neck, jason knew he was done for. he was gone. completely at your mercy just by the touch of your fingertips. his neck burned at the spots where your skin met his. he was ready to carve his heart out of his chest and hand it to you with his own hands. his chest plating armour, his protection, his walls that had shielded the parts of himself that he refused to show the world melted instantly with a flash of your smile.
"jay…" your voice was barely above the wind in his ears, but it cut through nonetheless, grounded him back to the moment where your chin was tilting up towards his mouth.
oh god, no
he cleared his throat and slid onto his back beside you. the clouds, bright and blinding against the warm blue, were the most interesting thing jason could look at right now. though his eyes were desperate to settle back onto you.
he wouldn't give in. not yet at least. maybe not ever. you would never be his.
a spiked ball made it's way down your throat, forcing, shoving, tearing down any words that were about to leave your mouth. the pressure between the two of you was bordering on unbearable.
you were so close to kissing him. so close. his distance was necessary. you never should have gotten that close to jason — close enough that you had felt the cool air from his nose brush your cheeks. though, feeling him pull away stabbed your heart deeper than you cared to admit.
"hey, jason?"
he hummed in confirmation
"what were you doing under my car for so long?"
"what do you mean?"
"well, it was the valve that was leaking right? you said that's under the hood. why were you under my car for as long as you were? you were also inside, like under the steering wheel. what was that?"
jason remained silent. he didn't have a good enough excuse that didn't make him sound like a fucking idiot. after finding the initial cause of your car problems, he found another, and then another. and then it turned into him fixing whatever he could with the equipment that he had on hand — anything to keep you in the shop a little longer. just a little longer.
"you know, just stopping some fluid leaks, making sure nothing was rusting. the oil pan gasket is down there, and your transmission," he kept his eyes trained on the sky, hand resting under his head. the same hand that was under yours. the same one that was just gliding through your hair and oh how he wanted to grab onto the strands and— "oh, and your exhaust. that needed to be touched up. i actually put some paste on there so it should be good for now, but you'll need to come in again soon for me to actually fix it—"
"jason,"
"yeah," his own rambling had caught him off guard, but the way his heart was practically beating out of his chest was getting increasingly harder to ignore. his heart was still beating wildly out of his chest from almost kissing you.
"what the hell does any of that even mean?"
"basically, you had more work that needed to be done than just the valve,"
"what?" you sat up, your lips jutting out in a exasperated pout. "why didn't you tell me? you have to let me pay you."
"like i said earlier, i owed tim," he responded, propping himself on his elbow to face you. the sun floated just above your head, bathing you in its ethereal glow. the rays caught on your hair, glittering the wild strands that were mussed from the grass.
"yeah but not for all of that,"
"well. if you wanna repay me so bad, then you can,"
you nodded in relief. "okay. how much do i owe you then?"
"i want you—"
the shrill of your phone ringing in your back pocket cut jason off abruptly. in a way, he may have been relieved that he never got to finish his sentence. you. i want you. he wouldn't have been able to take them back, no matter how much he may have meant it.
too much. way too soon.
"hey," you pressed your phone to your ear. your fingers absentmindedly picked at the strands of grass beneath your feet.
"what time are you coming over?" tim's voice rang through the speaker. loud. jason cringed at the sound.
"huh?" you shifted, sitting up a little straighter. right. tim and you had plans tonight. dinner tonight at the manor, upon bruce's insistence. on days that you and tim had planned to hang out, you usually ended up in the manor. it was more comfortable for you guys rather than your shitty apartment.
"b's asking, alfred's already started on dinner," tim says, you cam practically see him shaking his head. "so, what time should i tell him? also, why is your location off. i tried to check if you were at home and it says 'location not found'"
"oh uh, i don't know. i'm on a walk right now, i'll be there in 'bout an hour?" you were distracted. jason was just laying there still, beside you, pretending not to listen but you know he was. the twitch of his nose when tim had mentioned bruce had given him away.
"''kay, perfect, see you, and fix your location," tim waited for your own farewell before hanging up the phone. you let your phone drop into your lap, falling back into the electrically charged quiet that seemed to continuously engulf yourself and jason.
"tim?" jason mumbled.
you nodded, a thick glob of saliva catching in our throat. "dinner at the manor tonight."
right. jason knew that. dinner at the manor tonight, as bruce had said in the family group chat.
he knew he had to drive you back, to let you go. you car was fixed now. it was over. your car was fixed, and you were gonna go back to your life now. the dream bubble, the rose coloured world that jason had been fantasizing with you was now grey.
but he wouldn't complain. he would let you go. and maybe, he would get to see you again.
﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒
the manor had been bustling upon your arrival. you still felt like you were in a daze from your earlier encounters with jason.
he was… different. not what you had expected.
your first impression of him might have been skewered by tim, and the front that jason put up. the glares, the stone mask that he wore — you saw the softness that lay beneath it all.
you were currently at the dinner table — seated beside tim — though you could still feel the grass tickling your ankles and jason's steady weight on your chest. you had been so close to kissing him, barely a centimetre between you.
"so your car is alright then?" bruce's voice brought you back from your dream.
"hm? oh! yeah, it's all good," your shoulders squared, spine snapping straight. the smile that plastered across your face felt gooey. "jason—"
"—littlewing?" dick's voice rang out in shock, his gaze fixed above your head. a lull settled over the room as the rest of the party's attention followed dick's. you slowly turned your head, your breath catching at the sight.
speak of the devil.
jason. he had stood in the entryway of the dining hall — the same navy blue jeans, leather jacket stretched taut over his strong form.
everyone's gaze were on him, but his were on you.
"jason! what a pleasure," bruce smiled, standing in greeting.
"why are you here?" tim blurted out.
"for dinner?" jason deadpanned.
"yeah, but why?"
"i'm part of the family, aren't i? do i need a reason to show up for family dinner?"
"how did you know this was happening,"
you elbowed tim hard enough that he flinched. his fork clanged against his plate at the force of his knee hitting the table.
"i'm in the groupchat, dumbass," jason's eyes narrowed at tim, a scowl forming across his mouth.
"—yes! you are, no you don't need a reason, and we are so happy you're here," bruce's voice cut in quickly, breaking the squabble. his tone directed at tim. he stood up as well to welcome jason into the room.
"come sit, littlewing, alfred already set up a seat for you," dick's words barely registered in your mind. jason had looked different, smaller, younger. dick's hand patted the space next to him, across from you, the only empty seat. until now, that seat had always remained empty — set up with a plate, cutlery, and a glass — but empty. now you knew why.
he took his spot, sliding comfortably into the seat and letting dick clap his shoulder in friendly greeting. jasons eyes shifted from dick, to bruce, and then to you. darker, pupils dilated, head tilted slightly to the side as he took in your appearance again. outfit less casual, your hair done in a way that he could tell you put effort into — though he thought your hair would have looked nice regardless how you wore it.
jason's gaze was hungry. devouring, though it wasn't because of the food that was being served in front of him, but because of you.
dinner continued without a hitch. the dymanic didn't change when jason arrived, it molded around him — like he had always been there.
the conversion flowed between everyone, changing constantly from someone's interjection. the only thing that didn't change was jason's focus on you. when he spoke, when he wasn't speaking. it wasn't the whole time, but it was enough for you to notice it. to feel it burning into your face from where he sat directly in front of you.
eventually, after the second course of dessert, you excused yourself to the washroom.
a break was needed.
while you had developed close relationships with all of tim's family members, they still managed to overwhelm you very easily.
the washroom was a moment of repreive in the chaos that was confined within the walls of the manor. you could still hear the arguments, the debates, the loud voices that knew how to speak above one another.
you took your time on the way back, slow measured steps that followed the dark lines of the mahogany flooring. you didn't hear the footsteps behind you, didn't sense the presence that lingered too closely behind you for just a second too long before wrapping an arm around you.
a large hand covered your mouth, the other pulling your body into the opened doorway beside you. once your back was against the wall, you realized.
jason.
he was close again. body pressed up against yours intentionally. he was warm in a way that was devastating — a warmth that you so desperately wanted to sink into, but you knew you couldn't.
"what are you—" your voice muffled against his hand, palm sliding against your cheek and cradling your head.
"i should have kissed you earlier," his words cut you off, hanging in the space between your mouths. his gaze was fixed on your lips, centimetres away from yours. "i should have. i need to. been thinking about it since i met you, angel, fuck."
he was practically pleading. his whispered words were shaking between his lips.
please. please, let me kiss you.
"we… jason, we can't," your voice was just as soft, hands exploring up his arms and onto his shoulders. broad and thick under your palms. the desperation was burning the room, a fever beginning to heat up your spine.
"we… yeah," his forehead softly hit yours, eyes shutting tightly. his nostrils flared with restraint. his other hand tightened it's grip on your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer to him.
"they're gonna be looking for us, we need to—"
"fuck. i can't. i'm sorry," jason murmured, his snapping open to gaze at you one last time, there was a hint of apology swimming in his eyes, deep and longing beneath the surface.
summary: dick grayson can't seem to make you swoon, no matter how hard he tries, until he finally does!
tags: 18+ mdni, kissing, smallest argument with comfort, fluff, not proofread!
2843 words
based off this request -- thank you for sending it in! once again, I cannot write anything short. i'm working on it!!
read part two here!
check out the moodboard here!
You hated Dick Grayson.
He was disgustingly charming, holding a brightness in his eyes that paralleled the beauty of the galaxy. He knew how to wield that power. He was gorgeous, devastatingly so. His face was a perfect canvas of symmetrical visage.
You knew it, and he knew it.
You could see it in the way that other women in the office treated him – the fluttery lashes, the lip bites, the attempts at small, lingering touches – and how he smirked right back, giving them a false sense of hope. You refused to be a part of his roster, refused to be another person that was hypnotized by his charm. Your resistance didn’t deter his efforts, much to your dismay. Yet, despite your annoyance towards his presence, you knew he was anything but malicious. You knew he was harmless in his actions, simply just having fun.
Bruce Wayne was unpredictable in his office appearances. Oftentimes, you were left there alone to pick up the slack alongside Lucius Fox. You had no prior business experience that had prepared you for this role, so you were surprised when you were offered the position.
Today, in particular, was a harder day for you. Being Bruce’s assistant was challenging, despite all the perks that came with the job. December was the hardest month at the company – meetings, preparations for the new year, securing deals, galas – it was a constant weight on your shoulders that you weren’t able to leave at the office.
Neither Lucius, nor Bruce were in office today. Neither had been all week, leaving you to take on the brunt of the work in their absence. Dick, for the most part, was the one filling in for what you couldn’t do.
You hated how easy he made it seem. He came in, handled the meetings, handled whatever paperwork or phone call required of him, and did his work as if it was the easiest thing in your world.
You, on the other hand, were drowning. Your head was already under the water and you were losing air quickly. No matter how much you tried to claw to the surface, to break even on the amount of work you had to get done, several more tasks were added to your to-do list. Each task took you longer than you would like to admit, simply because you were afraid of ruining things. You had to teach yourself how to complete the tasks to the same standard of Bruce, Lucius, or Dick, as none of this was originally in your job description. Dealing with Dick wasn’t in your job description either.
“There’s my favourite girl! How are we doing today, beautiful?” Dick’s voice cut through the quiet space as he planted himself on your desk. He flashed a bright, charming smile down at you as he lounged comfortably on your desk. His arms crossed over his chest, the fabric of his shirt stretching against the bulging of his muscles. He could sense the tension radiating off your body, all he wanted was to see that pretty smile that you always tried to hide from him.
You were too engrossed in reading the file by one of Wayne’s Enterprise’s partners to acknowledge Dick. One monitor had the file pulled up, while you used the other to research terms and proper practices. Your brow was furrowed as you attempted to make sense of the words in the file.
His finger came up and gently twisted a strand of your hair around his finger, “nearing quitting time, sweetheart, you gonna let me take you out for dinner?” he rumbled smoothly, his head ducking in an attempt to enter your line of vision. His finger carefully untwisted your hair and gently smoothed the strand back against your head.
“Busy,” you mumbled back, letting out a puff of breath as you squinted at your notes, attempting to make sense of the numbers that were being listed in the file. His touch began to overwhelm you, invading your mind and derailing your train of thought.
“Come on,” he whined softly, his thumb coming up to your forehead in an attempt to smooth out the tense skin between your brows. “Gotta make sure you’re eating, yeah? I know a good spot over on-”
“Can you stop-” you snapped at him, slapping his hand away. Your eyes were fire, red with anger. He had never seen this side of you before, never seen you even raise your voice, despite how much he knew he toyed with you. “I’m busy. I don’t want to get dinner with you. I don’t want to do anything with you. Go ask one of your other playthings,”
He said there quietly for a moment, stunned by your sudden outburst. “Sweetheart, I-”
“I’m not your ‘sweetheart’, Dick. I have had a horrible week because I’ve been too busy trying to pick up your shit, and I have a lot to get done still. So, please, leave me alone. I’m sure you have 14 other girls on your list that you can take to dinner right now,” you seethed out again, cutting off his attempt at a response. The office went dead quiet, though you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed. There was too much to get done, too much on your mind, you didn’t need his shallow flirting to make things worse. You didn’t need empty promises, you didn’t need to be a game for Dick to win.
He sat there quietly again, still stunned by your words. A glob of spit pooled in his mouth, practically choking him as he forgot how to work his motor functions for a moment. He made you mad. He was trying to make you smile, but he did the opposite?
“Right, yeah…” he murmured softly, standing up quietly from your desk. You turned back immediately to the file, immersing yourself back into the work at hand. He lingered behind you, his gaze roving over your form one last time. He didn’t want to leave you like this. He knew that you were under an immense amount of pressure this week. He had done everything he could to alleviate the workload on your shoulders. He did paperwork, responded to emails, took calls before you could get to them – yet your workload never ceased to decrease.
“You have a meeting in 20 minutes, Richard, I emailed you the notes,” you snapped out quietly, not turning to look at him. Your clipped tone paired with the formality halted him in his tracks. Richard? You hadn’t called him that since your first week as Bruce’s secretary.
He remained in a slight daze as he walked into Bruce’s office and planted himself in the chair. Was it something he said? He thought he was making progress in charming you, making you see that he was serious about his feelings for you, and he was planning to say it explicitly for you if you had agreed to dinner with him. But then again, you had said you had a hard week. It was a hard week. For everyone. The company. Gotham’s crime rate had skyrocketed and required all hands on deck. Everyone was being stretched thin.
Dick, however, was used to this chaos. He thrived in the bustle of stepping in for Bruce at the company when needed, and patrolling into the early hours of the night. His entire life was a masquerade, a show.
He knew you did not share that same lifestyle – obviously. He had watched you on numerous occasions, scaled the rooftops on your journey home to ensure you made it home safe. Sometimes, patrol had conveniently situated him across from your apartment window, allowing him to keep an eye on the neighbourhood and over you at the same time. You were quiet, a steady calm in the tornado of his life. His heart, once impenetrable, was consumed by you.
God, he felt like an asshole now. He could make it up to you? right?
The sharp ring of the phone interrupted his thoughts. He leaned back in his seat, taking a breath, before a smile plastered on his face. “Michael Holt! Pleasure to hear from you-”
────୨ৎ────
You successfully avoided Dick for the rest of the work day. Whatever correspondence that was needed between the two of you was done over email. You managed to slip out of the building without being cornered by anyone. Your breath had been caught in your chest all day. There was no amount of air that was able to fill your lungs enough to give you the satisfaction of a proper breath. You felt like you were in a daze until you got home.
You dreaded stepping into the office building the next morning. You knew people were going to be whispering about your encounter with Dick. Perhaps about the lack of professionalism that you displayed. You didn’t care.
There were a few of your coworkers in the office, the early birds getting a head start on their workday. Each give you a small nod of greeting as you passed by. The room was quiet, the low energy of all the staff affecting the atmosphere on the floor.
You had expected to be met with a mountainous pile of paperwork on your desk, like everyday of the past week. To your surprise, there was a singular note.
Come into the office.
R.G.
Stepping into Bruce’s office was nerve-wracking. You didn’t want to face Dick. The way his face had fallen after your outburst caused a crack to split down your chest – seeping with guilt and tar.
The office was empty, cold with the lack of Dick’s presence. The only sign of life was a small basket placed on top of the coffee table that was situated in the lounge area of Bruce’s office. The brown, woven basket’s lid was closed, sealing off the contents from your view. Another note with Dick’s elegant scrawl was placed on top. The note began with your name, and you tried not to acknowledge his usual pet name for you missing from the note.
I know you’ve had a hard week. We would be lost here without you. I got you a little something as a token of my (our?) no, MY appreciation. Please accept it. And accept my apology for angering you, I thought I was doing the opposite. Don’t worry about your to-do list, I took care of it already. Take a half day today – think of it as an early weekend! Yay! Enjoy.
R.G.
You sat down on the chair, reading over the words quietly. Your fingers quietly lifted the lid of the basket. The crack in your chest deepened as you gazed at the contents of the basket.
At the very back was a fluffy blue pyjama set, soft and warm under the tips of your fingers. Stuffed beside it was a small box of calming tea, surrounded by some of your favourite snacks – how did he know?. There were facemasks, cozy socks, a candle, a card to some ridiculously expensive spa, and… a small, homemade coupon book?
He did all of this for you? All the hard work you had put into keeping him out of your heart had crumbled by this gesture. Your heart was singing at the effort put into this basket.
You opened the coupon and immediately rolled your eyes at the contents. Though, you had to fight to keep the smile of amusement from breaking onto your face. You hated how he made you feel, how the thoughts of him always seemed to infiltrate your mind.
Of course, Dick would make a homemade coupon book.
“Good for: one free kiss”
“Good for: one dinner date”
“Good for: one free slap”
“Good for: one free kiss!!”
“Good for: pass off your to-do list onto Dick”
"Good for: ONE FREE KISS!!!!!!”
You rolled your eyes again and moved to flip to the next coupon when the door swung open. Dick’s large frame stopped in the doorway. His eyes roved over you in momentary shock. Your heart lurched as you stood up quickly.
“You’re here early. You usually aren’t here until 9,” he breathed out, shutting the door quietly and stepping closer. He left distance so as to not startle you, afraid you would bolt out of the office once given the chance.
“Had a lot that needed to be done… um.. Thank you for taking care of it,” you responded back, your flickering between the basket and him. He smiled softly and stopped beside you. His delicate walk never failed to amaze you – the way he moved with grace, always sure of his body’s movements, and with perfect motor symmetry.
“Happy to, Swe-” he coughed, cutting himself off. His fingers fidgeted as if he didn’t know what to do with them – something you had never seen from him before.
“I was just leaving. Was hoping to be out of your way when you got here so that you could focus. Use the spa giftcard today,” his tone was gentle, a quiet murmur in the dimly lit office. The rain had cast a prominent gloom in the already present darkness of Gotham.
“Thank you for the basket,” you whispered in return, your eyes flickering up to meet him.
“Of course,” he murmured, the knuckle of his finger gently brushing the underside of your jaw. “You’re wearing the same outfit as yesterday?”
You looked down at your clothes, your hands smoothing over the top. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks in the form of heat. “Yeah…”
“I love this outfit on you,” he added softly, nudging your chin back up to face him. You pressed your lips together in response.
“Dick, I’m…”
“I know, don’t worry. It’s okay,” he whispered back, the tiniest hint of a smile breaking through his lips. “There’s… there are no other girls, by the way. You said yesterday that I have other girls. I see why you think I would, but I don't. I only want one.”
“Can I use one of these coupons right now?” you asked softly, your fingers sliding the cardstock material back and forth. He nodded slightly, leaning closer. His nose gently nudged against yours. The warmth of his hands slowly slid up the back of your waist, hooking into the fabric of your top.
The quiet rip of the paper echoed softly in the space between you as you gave him a soft smile.
“Close your eyes,” you whispered, slipping the coupon into his pocket. You waited until he shut his eyes before a small smile spread onto your lips. You took a moment to admire the beauty of his features. Strong features, angular jaw. The definition of perfect. Beautiful.
The crack of your hand meeting his cheek left him silently stunned. His eyes flew open in shock as he blinked down at you. “I deserved that… but what the fuck?”
Your laugh immediately filled the space, pulling the coupon out of his pocket to show which one you had chosen to cash in – “Good for: One free slap”.
A pout formed on his plump lips, his eyes filling with betrayal. “There were FOUR free kiss coupons for you to choose from!” he whined, pulling you in by the waist again. “FOUR!”
You continued to laugh, your hand coming up to gently soothe the skin of his cheek. You were both aware that the slap did not hurt him. His cheek had barely reddened in colour.
“One of them even has extra emphasis on the fact that it’s a free-”
You cut him off by pressing your lips softly to his. Your hands gently pulled him close by the black hairs on the nape of his neck, silencing his whining. His mouth was warm and sugary with the taste of sweetened coffee. He let out a soft breath of relief into your mouth, immediately relaxing into the kiss. His strong arms wrapped around you completely, pulling you into the hard planes of his body.
“Fuck, you’re so… fuck,” he mumbled into your mouth, his lips turning ravenous against yours as a sudden desperation filled the room. He pulled you closer, his lips devouring yours in a way that left you dizzy. You let out another soft giggle into his mouth, gently biting down on the pillowly skin of his bottom lip.
He ripped himself back, forcing his forehead against yours. His breathing was ragged, his lips wet with spit. He looked utterly destroyed, disheveled, with half-lidded eyes. His hands cupped over your cheeks, holding you close to his face.
“Again, please. Please let me kiss you again, I-” he breathed out softly, his nose nudging against yours again. Every fibre of his being was pleading, you could sense it in his breaths, in his grip on your voice, and the lower frequencies of his voice. “You’re so beautiful, taste so good, can I, please?”
“Yes, but first…” you smiled softly, leaning back fractionally. The sound of paper ripping filled his ears again before you held up another coupon in the space between the two of you.
“Good for: one dinner date”
an: I don't know if this is exactly what the request asked for??? but I had fun writing it anyways. THANK YOU FOR SENDING IT IN!!! I would make this into a universe if I have enough ideas, or if you do. thoughts are being thunk
“I still can’t believe Linda has given me the opportunity to photograph Dick Grayson. THE Dick Grayson!" Andy, your colleague and close friend gushed.
“He’s just one of Bruce Wayne’s wards, what’s so special about him?” You shrugged, reading through the fan questions submitted to your magazine website for the Waynes.
“Please tell me you know what he looks like,” Andy gaped from the passenger seat.
You just shrugged again in response and underlined something.
“Okay I know you’re new and all but who doesn’t know Richard Grayson?” He pulled out his phone and typed something while having a whole conversation with you. “Didn’t Clark and Lois mention anything? They’re pretty close with the Waynes,” he added.
Lois and Clark. Your coworkers and best friends from when you were a measly intern at the Daily Planet just a few months ago.
You spent your interning days getting coffee for the editor, so it was safe to say that if you learned anything from your time at the Daily Planet was how to filter disgusting break room coffee just right so it could be drinkable. You knew more about shredding old reports in the mail room than you did about writing and whatever you learned about it, you had Lois to thank for.
She had been a mentor to you and when you missed your family, she had been the perfect sister. It had seemed like Clark was the one third wheeling you two most times.
You had wanted to work at the Daily Planet because you studied criminology along with journalism so you could report crime –not sort mail by the folder colours. But you spent a whole year there, waiting for your chance which never came and you needed the money because getting by on your internship paycheques was next to impossible.
So when you got a call back from the magazine company you applied to in Gotham, you didn’t think twice before accepting.
Lois had been just as sad about you leaving Metropolis as you were but just like an older sister, she was happy for the opportunity you received.
It wasn’t your first choice but you had to make the ends meet.
Besides, in just a few months, you had made quite a name for yourself. Big enough for your editor to give you the cover story for the Wayne Family.
When your editor assigned you the job, you were torn to say the least. Not because you weren’t happy with the opportunity –you were. People begged for this job. It paid a ton but celebrity gossip wasn’t exactly what interested you. You were Lois Lane’s mentee, you wanted to write about crime and corruption which Gotham city was literally infested with.
But you also knew how rare of an opportunity this was and that it would bring you exposure you needed to maybe express to your editor what you wanted to write about.
So you put on your bravest smile, ran a questionnaire online to ask the citizens of Gotham if they had anything to ask Mr. Wayne or any of the Wayne family members.
It totally didn’t scare you. And it totally didn’t scare you even further when Andy told you that the last interview Bruce Wayne had done was when Andy was still in diapers. And your editor wanted you -of all people to write about him.
It would be a breeze.
You had briefly mentioned it to Lois on FaceTime last week and Clark –who was cooking in the kitchen and also eavesdropping apparently, he had told you that Bruce wasn’t as scary as the media made him out to be.
You replied that you would be the judge of that.
Which brought you here, in the parking lot of the Wayne Enterprises building, waiting for the clock to hit 2 PM when your interview was supposed to start.
“Look at his pretty eyes!” Andy cooed and handed his phone over to you with the screen filled with photos of a black haired and blue eyed man.
Your eyes widened, despite yourself, as you took in the sight in front of you. Wavy black hair, big blue eyes framed with long black eyelashes and a boyish smile that deepened his dimples. His nose had a bump on the bridge and with that face, you were guessing he played sports in high school.
Or maybe he still did because the next photo of him was shirtless and the hard lines of his muscles almost made you drop the phone.
It was a photoshoot from a couple of years ago, his hair was messy and falling over his eyes. His hand behind his head, the other on his abs. He was squinting at the camera with a lopsided smile. The waistband of his Calvin Klein’s peeking out of his low hung jeans, leaving nothing to your imagination.
Your eyes raked up his abs to his pecs then his neck and finally landed on his biceps. You bit your lower lip as you saw the faintest hint of a tattoo on his shoulder. It wasn’t fully visible which you thought was the appeal, leaving them wanting more and whatnot.
Another swipe brought you a photo of him with a redheaded woman with his arms around her shoulders while she buried her face in his chest and he kissed her forehead.
One more swipe, one more photo of him with a different woman. This time with a blonde and they were stepping out of a limousine. You swiped again and this time he was with a black haired woman, eating ice cream on the pier like he was straight out of a romcom.
You rolled your eyes and swiped again only to be met with another photoshoot of him completely shirtless in bed and covered in lipstick marks.
It would have you dripping if you hadn’t seen the million photos with different women he had before this.
Another rich kid with daddy’s money who thinks he can sleep with anyone he wants.
“Ahem,” Andy coughed. “My phone please,” he grinned.
“Um yeah,” you shook your head and handed him back his phone.
“So?”
“So he’s a spoiled rich kid who has never had to work a day in his life to earn money. So he does shirtless photoshoots every once in a while just to boost his ego or maybe get more people to sleep with him in case the rich thing doesn’t work,” you scoffed.
“Or the abs thing or the biceps thing or the hair thing,” Andy went on.
“Andy,” you sighed, shutting the cap of your highlighter. “He’s a client I’m supposed to interview and you’re supposed to take photos of. Nothing else.”
“Do you think I could convince Linda to let me take shirtless photos of him?” Andy asked.
“Sure buddy,” you smiled at him before pulling out the tube of lip gloss from your purse to touch up your make up.
“You ready?” Andy checked.
“Let’s do this,” you took a deep breath and dabbed your lips before getting out of the car.
You entered the building with Andy following behind you, holding his camera equipment. The two of you made your way towards the front desk when Andy suddenly whined out loud, making you look back at him.
“What?” You asked.
“I forgot the extra reels in the car, go ahead I’ll catch up,” he muttered, handing you his tripod and jogged back towards the parking lot.
You shrugged and watched him run behind you through the glass doors. It wasn’t until your mindless steps caused the tripod –much taller than you to collide with someone that you finally looked.
“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, looking at the man clad in a tailored suit. He quickly tipped his head back and covered his nose with his hand before letting out a string of curses. “Sorry I wasn’t looking! Are you okay?”
He finally looked down at you and his sharp blue eyes quickly turned softer, any hint of annoyance he might have had suddenly gone.
“A pretty little lady like you just broke my nose, the pleasure is all mine,” he grinned and leaned down to offer you his free hand.
“Oh um,” you blushed and collected your things in one hand before accepting his handshake. “I’m sorry,” you repeated and rummaged through your purse to pull out a tissue.
The man stayed leaning back and you stood on your tippy toes to press the tissue to his nose to stop the bleeding.
“That’s bleeding oh my god you’re bleeding,” you swallowed.
“It’s okay I’ve had worse,” he replied in a muffled voice due to half of his face still being covered.
“Um, I'll pay for the medical expenses!”
“That’s okay pretty,” he chuckled. “You can, however, pay me back with your phone number.”
“What?” Your eyes widened as you saw him pull out his phone. “Are you serious? I broke your nose and you’re asking for my number? Do you have a concussion?”
“Maybe your beauty has just hypnotised me,” he grinned through the blood now coming onto his lips.
“Hey!” Andy called out, running up to you. “Everything okay?” He checked and looked between you and the man.
“I broke his nose,” you sheepishly replied, “Let me call 911,” you pulled your phone out but the man suddenly grabbed your wrist, causing you to pause.
“I told you I’m fine, it’s probably not even broken anyway,” he shook his head.
“I can’t just leave you like this!” You protested.
“I told you how you can repay me,” he shrugged and just as you were about to reply, Andy’s phone went off.
“Shoot we’ll be late,” he muttered and took the tripod from your hands. “Come on.”
“I-” You glanced between the man and Andy who was now running towards the elevator. “I’m sorry I have a really important meeting,” you apologised and rummaged through your purse again to grab something.
That something turned out to be a wrinkled 20 dollar bill that you pressed in the man’s palm. “There you go!” You called out before running after Andy.
“Our first day here and you’ve already made an impression,” Andy chuckled, pressing the button for the floor you were supposed to meet the Waynes at.
“Gosh it’s my first cover story Andy and I’ve already injured someone. I can't do this,” you gasped once inside the elevator.
“Hey,” Andy’s voice turned softer as he looked at you. “I know you and you’re an amazing writer, you will ace this. You already apologised and offered to pay and he didn’t want it, what else could you have done?”
You sighed, “I think I’m just nervous.”
“And it’s natural, just remember Dick Grayson is waiting in that room,” Andy grinned.
“Fuck off!” You laughed and elbowed him in the stomach.
“Ready?” Andy checked once the elevator came to a stop.
“Ready,” you nodded and stepped out of the elevator and into the office area.
You and Andy approached the front desk where Bruce Wayne’s assistant was sitting and flashed your ID cards at her, indicating that you were from the magazine for the interview.
She gave you a practiced smile and asked you to follow her to Bruce’s office. You two waited outside for a minute while she went inside and informed him about your arrival.
“I’ll be right here if you need anything,” she told you before stepping away from the double doors so you could go in.
“Thank you,” you smiled at her in return before closing the doors behind you and Andy.
The room was polished and squeaky clean. In fact, you could probably see your own reflection if you looked at the marble floors hard enough. There was a lounge area with a white couch and matching chairs along with a coffee table in the corner of the room. The massive space was however mostly filled out by a big desk in the middle of the room, pushed a bit towards the back wall that had tall bookshelves. There was a family portrait of Bruce Wayne and his parents you had guessed -right behind his desk chair.
You gave the room a once over before your eyes landed on everyone in the room and you realised just who you were interviewing.
There were four men currently in the room along with one woman. One glance at her told you she was supposed to be Bruce’s adoptive daughter, Cassandra and her face told you she looked harmless enough.
What unnerved you were the men. Clad in suits.
The ratio was way off, you had never been around this many strange rich men alone before this and the fact that they were all wearing suits wasn’t really helping you.
It was a fine enough idea in practice but to actually be here on your own for a cover story of Gotham’s Royalty was beginning to dawn on you.
Your eyes drifted towards the chair Bruce was sitting in right behind his desk, clad in a grey and black suit sans the tie. His eyebrows were sharp, almost giving you the impression that he was mad but apparently that’s just how he looked.
Your gaze shifted towards his left and landed on a much much smaller boy sitting on a stool next to Bruce. He was wearing a green turtleneck under a brown suede jacket and his hair was standing straight in spikes, you guessed he was the youngest because of the sheer size of him so he must be Damian.
Behind him on the windowsill, sat another boy slightly bigger than Damian. He wore a red shirt with a black blazer as he perched on the windowsill with an iPad in his hand. Timothy, the second youngest.
Next was the boy in a leather jacket and dress pants who was sitting on an armchair next to his sister –Cassandra. He was busy in a conversation with her as they both kept talking over each other. You guessed he was Jason based on the leather jacket and the white streak in his hair that you’d read about once.
One of them was missing.
You didn’t get the chance to dwell on it though because Andy gave you a sharp pat on the back, urging you to talk.
“Hello!” You blurted out then side eyed Andy. “We’re here for the interview, pleased to meet you,” you smiled, introducing yourself and holding your hand out for Bruce Wayne to shake.
He got up from his desk and shook your hand with a less stern expression than before, “Bruce Wayne,” he nodded.
“Andrew,” Andy added, shaking his hand as well.
Bruce walked over to the couch with such an effortless grace in his body it was almost chilling. But he was born into this life, he probably had to learn how to do the rich people walk when he was probably three years old.
He gestured for you and Andy to join him and you quickly obliged, taking a seat on one of the chairs.
“Shall we begin?” You asked, pulling out your tape recorder and notebook.
“One of my sons is late, he’ll be here in a minute I’m sure,” Bruce said.
“Oh we can go over the basics until then?” You offered. “Just to prep you.”
“Sure,” he nodded and leaned back, spreading his arm over the backrest.
“Can you tell me yours and your family’s name?” You read from the list of questions in front of you and almost cringed at how it sounded but you were advised to always ask basic and easy questions first to get the interviewee in the zone –according to Linda, your boss.
“I’m Bruce Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises. I have four sons and a daughter. Richard, Cassandra, Jason, Tim and Damian. In that order,” came his curt response.
“I’m the only blood son,” Damian chimed in. “You should specify that.”
“Everyone knows that twat, you keep saying it every chance you get,” Jason rolled his eyes.
Before Damian could come up with a harsher quip, the door swung open and stepped in Richard. Your eyes instinctively went to his face which was set in a hard expression –jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed.
His large frame was covered with black dress pants, perfectly tailored to fit him just right. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt over it, tucked neatly in his pants. The top two buttons were undone showing just a glimpse of his muscular chest. His suit jacket was draped over his forearm in a wrinkled heap.
You were beginning to understand how he got so many partners.
“Dick you’re late,” Bruce’s voice echoed.
“Yeah sorry,” he sighed a reply and walked over to the windowsill beside the couch and leaned back on it. “Had an accident,” he added and finally looked down at you.
His furrowed brows suddenly turned softer, giving his eyes a look of relief as his jaw involuntarily unclenched and morphed into an easy smile.
“Well hello there,” he smiled at you.
“Hi,” you shook yourself out of your trance and greeted him, “You must be Richard.”
“Please call me Dick.”
“Richard’s fine,” you corrected, causing Jason to let out a whistle.
“Why do you have blood on your shirt?” Cassandra asked Dick.
“Ran into someone,” Dick replied and wiped his nose with a tissue, eyes never leaving yours.
That’s when the realisation dawned on you that it was Richard Grayson whose nose you broke.
Your eyes widened and with the way Dick was smirking he knew you finally caught on.
Your eyes went even more wide when you realised you not only broke his nose but also handed him a twenty dollar bill.
The same Richard Grayson who was quite literally a millionaire. Richard Grayson who you were supposed to be seeing almost every day for a week (more than that if needed).
How badly did you even want this job anyway? Sorting mail at the Daily Planet was surely better than your nightmare unfolding right in front of you.
“Oh my god,” you muttered under your breath, eyes still blown wide and staring at Dick.
“You okay?” Tim asked you.
“Yeah sorry,” you replied, quickly recovering from the moment’s mortification.
It was okay. It would be okay. You would apologise to Dick, offer to make it up to him so you could do your job and it would be OKAY. Because just the thought of going back to eating instant noodles for dinner three days in a row was enough to make you shake in fear.
You blinked once before your eyes found their way back to Dick who was now staring at you with his head tilted to the side, hands stuffed in the pocket of his pants while that infamous Dick Grayson smirk stayed prominent on his rosy lips.
“Pathetic,” Damian scoffed from the armrest of the couch, making your eyes widen.
“Sorry?” You asked in disbelief, looking at the scowling boy.
“Ignore him, he sniffs glue,” Jason drawled.
“He what-” You asked again, eyes going wide in complete confusion and surprise.
“He doesn’t, Jason is just a dick,” Tim rolled his eyes and plopped down next to Bruce on the couch.
“Hey don’t use my name as an insult,” Dick frowned from his perch on the windowsill.
Damian in response reached over Cassandra’s lap and flicked Jason’s forehead causing him to gasp in disbelief before he flicked Damian back on the nose.
Soon enough they were both giving each other light smacks over Cassandra’s lap before Dick finally grabbed the collar of Damian’s jacket and pulled him back.
“Cut it out!” Dick’s voice boomed, suddenly turning four octaves deeper.
His deep voice in that tone made you cross your legs despite yourself as you bit your lower lip and tried to stop your mind from going places that included Dick and his sexy voice murmuring things in your ear that would have you panting under different circumstances.
This is not what you should be thinking about right now.
“Sorry, please go on,” Dick turned towards you and flashed you another one of his smiles.
“Right um, Mr. Grayson-”
“Dick.”
“Richard,” you reiterated, causing Cass and Tim to snicker among themselves. “It says you’re a philanthropist in Blüdhaven?”
“Yeah I’m kinda everywhere,” he chuckled.
“What do you mean?”
“I do own an apartment there but I’m also here in Gotham most days,” he shrugged like it was normal to have multiple homes in different cities.
“Wow,” you muttered before you could stop yourself. “Rich people are just so troubled aren’t they?”
You saw Dick visibly retreat into the curtains as his face began turning pink.
You sure as hell wouldn’t apologise for that comment.
“Mr. Wayne,” you began, looking at Bruce now. “What do you have to say in response to people recently claiming that you and your family don't use your wealth to help the citizens of Gotham?” you asked, reading from the notes.
“I would say we’re always working on doing more for the community, giving the city back in every single way we can. Martha Wayne foundation has been working hard with the homelessness issue the city deals with and we’re working each day to make it better.”
You nodded in response and quickly scribbled everything down while Andy flashed a few candid shots.
“Mr. Todd-”
“For fuck’s sake please it’s Jason,” Jason cringed and you decided to stick with first names, refusing to go through the same thing over and over.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, a slow blush creeping over your face at Jason smirking at you. “Erm Jason, it says here that you-”
“Died? Yeah I did,” he clicked his tongue.
You stared at him with wide eyes but he just laughed in response, causing you to bite the inside of your lip in anxiousness.
They weren’t making this easy.
“Dude,” Dick muttered to Jason.
“Anyway,” you let out and turned towards Bruce instead and read off the questions submitted by people out loud without checking it first, “Mr. Wayne, your image as Gotham’s most eligible bachelor has been intact for years now, long before you even had children, do you…” you trailed off, eyebrows nearly shooting to your hairline at the intrusive question.
“Oh I’m sorry,” you quickly reiterated, “I don’t know why that was a question, you don’t have to answer that it’s so rude.”
Bruce’s lips twitched in response as his shoulders sagged which you took as a smile. He leaned forward and you straightened up as he looked directly at you with such intensity you could cry.
“Are you new?” He asked with a whisper of your name.
“Y-yeah I moved here from Metropolis, I was an intern at the Daily Planet,” you swallowed.
“Well,” he began. “You should know that’s all that anyone’s ever been interested in when it comes to Bruce Wayne.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“I know.”
“Sorry let’s start again I’m sorry,” you shook your head.
“You don’t need to apologise so much,” Jason pointed.
“Right. Sorry,” you replied. “Shit,” you cursed before the realisation caused your eyes to widen at what you just said. “I didn’t mean to swear I mean- like not shit shit just. God I’ve said it again now I meant-”
“Do you have the afternoon off?” Bruce asked suddenly, cutting you off.
“Y-yeah,” you replied with a gulp.
“I have a meeting I need to attend. We can stick to writing about the work we do here and taking photos around the building for today if that’s okay with you.”
You knew what he was doing. And you weren’t too proud to not accept his offer.
“That works perfectly, thanks!” Andy quickly replied and grabbed your hand, practically dragging you out of the office.
“What’s going on with you!?” He whisper-yelled once you reached the elevator. “You never mess up like that!”
“I don’t know!” You cringed and covered your face with your hands.
“You broke Dick Grayson’s nose!” He exclaimed.
“I didn’t know!” You cried. “I’m so getting fired.”
“Wait up!” You heard someone call out from behind you.
You turned around and saw Dick, jogging towards you.
“Fuck he wants to fire me,” you muttered to Andy.
“Be cool,” he replied.
“Hi,” Dick grinned, stopping right in front of you.
“Hi?” You replied with a confused expression.
Great, now a man who has never had to work a day in his life was going to fire you and there was nothing you could do about it. It was going to do wonders for your ego.
“So you want someone to show you around the office? Everyone else will be in the meeting,” he offered.
“You’re not here to fire me?” You asked before you could stop yourself.
“Fire you?” Dick laughed. “Why would I fire you?”
“Because I broke your nose,” you grimaced.
“I told you, I’m fine,” he shrugged, offering you a practiced charming grin that he probably used to get out of all sorts of trouble.
“We would love it if you could show us around,” Andy went on before you could reply, earning a stomp of your heel on his shoe.
“Mr. Wayne has asked for Mr. Andrew to be present for the meeting in the conference room to take photos,” Bruce’s assistant popped her head out of the glass doors and smiled at Andy.
He grinned at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes that you couldn’t decode. With a quick wave of his hands, he was off. Leaving you all alone with nothing but the anxiety in your stomach and a very handsome Dick Grayson.
“Let’s start our tour then,” Dick nodded and pressed a button on the elevator.
Once inside, he stood near the panel with you on the opposite wall.
He leaned back with one hand in the pocket of his pants, the other toying with his bottom lip that sported a lazy grin while his eyes were busy going up and down your frame.
His gaze took all of you in, beginning from your heels to the top of your stockings to the hem of your skirt to finally the littlest cleavage he could see in the fitted dress shirt you wore which clinged to your waist like a second skin.
You swallowed and clutched your folder tighter around your torso as if to shield yourself from his piercing gaze.
“Nice glasses,” Dick commented.
“Thanks,” you replied in a low voice and pushed them up your nose.
“Suit your face pretty well,” he went on.
“That’s why I chose them,” you bit your bottom lip to stop a smile from spreading on your face in case it gave him the wrong idea.
“You’ve got great taste then,” he said next.
“You could say that,” you nodded.
The elevator stopped, indicating that you had arrived on your floor. Dick gestured for you to step out first with a wave of his hand then followed behind.
“This is the front desk as you would have guessed, you spent quite a time here today,” Dick said, eyeing you with amusement.
“Right,” you replied and avoided his gaze.
“So,” Dick began, walking beside you towards the fountain in the centre of the building. “You drink coffee?”
“Yeah?” You replied in confusion.
“Wanna get one with me?” He offered.
“Oh no thanks,” you gently turned him down. “That’s nice of you.”
“Are you sure? I did get twenty dollars richer today," he pressed and flashed the said bill in front of you.
You felt your entire face heat up at that as you looked down at your heels clacking against the polished floor. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“It was perfectly on the right foot,” Dick argued. “Story of a lifetime, a pretty girl hit me in the face. Believe it or not, that doesn’t happen a lot.”
“I’m sure, Richard,” you held yourself back from rolling your eyes at his ego. You were supposed to be making amends with him, not let his ego piss you off.
“It’s Dick,” he corrected again.
“I would assume that’s a nickname and nicknames are reserved for friends, we are just coworkers for the week. So I’d rather call you Richard,” you explained.
“Extreme technicality," Dick mused. “But no, everyone calls me Dick even the people I don’t know, I haven’t gone by Richard since I was four and my mom called me that every time I pissed her off,” he chuckled.
“Must have been a lot then,” you muttered and fortunately, he didn’t hear you. Or he did and decided to ignore it.
You gnawed on your bottom lip and eyed his handsome face before letting out an exasperated breath. “Okay, Dick.”
“There it is!” He beamed.
“How do you even get ‘Dick’ from Richard,” you asked, looking at him from the corner of your eyes as you two continued to walk around.
“Well you ask really really nicely,” Dick smirked.
“What- Oh,” you groaned. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I’m greatly offended now and the only way you’ll get me on your good side is by agreeing to get coffee with me.”
“You’re manipulating me,” you narrowed your eyes at his smug face.
“One of my many talents,” he replied.
“Do you flirt with everyone like this?” You asked with a raise of your eyebrow.
“Only with people who break my nose,” he quipped.
“Wow,” you mused.
“Is it working?” He asked.
“Not in the least,” you clicked your tongue and swallowed the profanities threatening to spill out from you.
You were supposed to be professional here and he wasn’t even taking you seriously. You clutched the folder in your hands tighter as you recalled that his response to you hitting him in the face was a pick up line.
He hadn’t even assessed the injury before a flirty comment left his pretty mouth. You felt yourself getting mad at the permanent smirk on his face because he knew exactly what it did and he was trying it on you and it wasn’t exactly not not working on you.
“Damn it,” Dick huffed dramatically.
“You know you’re supposed to be showing me around so I can write about the work environment here,” you reminded him.
“You’re right,” Dick agreed. “Let’s begin at the food court where we can get that coffee we talked about.”
“Cheap food court coffee, really Mr. Grayson?” You chided with a click of your tongue. “I’d have assumed you had a black Amex or something.”
“I'm saving that for Friday when we go on our date,” he shrugged.
“Oh, our date on Friday! Right,” you nodded along.
“See? We’re already on the same page.”
“Dick,” you said, making him look at you. “What are you doing?”
“Asking you out on a date,” he smiled, popping those dimples.
“And I’m politely rejecting you.”
“Why?” He frowned.
“Why? Because I don’t want to,” you shrugged.
“Give me a reason.”
“There’s no reason Dick. Believe it or not, women can be immune to your charms,” you rolled your eyes, getting irritated at his ego.
“That hasn’t happened yet,” he mumbled.
“I’m sure,” you scoffed lightly. “We need to get back to work because I do have to work to make money.”
“Right,” he replied with a light shrug but on the inside, Dick was spiralling.
He stood frozen for a beat and eyed as you effortlessly chatted and smiled at the receptionist and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why you didn’t smile at him like that.
Instead he got an eye roll and a scoff.
He wasn’t the womanising ‘ladies man’ the media made him out to be. Every single shot of him that paps got with different women were often his friends –including Barbara and Steph. Those photos were posted online with extremely creative headlines which Dick always laughed at, often with Barbara and Steph.
But he also knew that he didn’t have a problem talking to people –everyone knew that. He had always loved talking to people, ever since he was a kid in the circus. He was often found talking to strangers and with his need to always put on a charming performance, people liked him back.
So when he got the feeling that for some reason you didn’t, he didn’t know how to take it.
Especially when he was quite taken by you. By your glasses and the way your skirt ended just above your knees, short enough to show the lace hem of your see through stockings.
Your glossy lips along with the stick peeking out of your perfectly done bun. He didn’t want to feel attracted towards two strands of hair falling on your face but he did and he sure as hell wouldn’t apologise for that.
And for whatever reason, his usual smiles didn’t work on you. Not even for a coffee.
He had thought it was the embarrassment of the accident you two had but clearly you didn’t seem like the type to dwell on things.
Surely it couldn’t be him.
He was a well liked and a quite attractive man and he wouldn’t deny that.
The whole day he tried shrugging it off. He told himself that you were probably just stressed or that you didn’t know him well enough that’s why you had turned him down. Or that maybe he had come on a bit too strong.
Either way he was going to make it right and he would earn a smile from you in return.
okay i know nothing about how journalism works so please bear with me!
yay im so glad to be reposting it🥹 i’ve already written till chapter four and i don’t even know how many more chapters there will be, i just hope you guys dont get bored🤧
likes comments and reblogs are appreciated! hope you enjoy <3
a/n: oh you know her, you love her, this arc is my favourite and i had to. ty to whoever voted (ily). this is a short fic. enjoy :)
synopsis: you were injured on a mission. you fought everyone off, completing the mission but that didn’t stop one of them from injecting you with something as you took them down. it slowed you down enough to let one of them stab you. now you’d run from there, hand clutched to your side as you stumbled and you only knew one place that’s safe for you to go. one person you feel comfortable with despite how much you guys bicker and fight. the one person that might loathe you the most, or so you thought. bucky.
themes: fluff, reader!hurt, yearning, unrequited love but not really, they’re so in love it’s sickening.
you palm your hands against your pants as you get up the final step of his stairs. wiping some blood off to make yourself look a little less scary.
scary because you knew you had at least a dozen shallow cuts. you held your hand tightly to the wound on your side, glad that blood wasn’t seeping through your fingers anymore.
at least it stopped bleeding.
but that wasn’t the worst part.
whatever they injected you with, it was making it hard to do anything like speak, walk, or focus.
you knew you were hurt, the way you couldn’t focus your eyes properly or walk straight told you that you needed someone to help. but you couldn’t go to the hospital, you wouldn’t. didn’t trust them. normally in a situation like this people might go to a friend or family members house.
but you? you were an orphan. you really didn’t have anyone to go to and despite how you and bucky act, he feels familiar to you.
like home.
you had no friends, no family, no life beyond being an avenger. no ties to hold you back. and that was good enough for you because it felt stable and manageable.
you sway forward and grip the doorframe as hard as you could, trying not to fall over.
your fingers dance over the doorbell but you’re so disoriented at this point, you keep missing it.
finally you opt to knock. a soft knock, barely there. slumping forward against the door.
he wasn’t asleep.
bucky was coddling a glass of whiskey, staring into the fireplace. trying to keep his mind from drifting to all the things he had done.
all the people he killed.
he watched the flames flicker. the sound of fire crackling filled the space and despite bucky not being able to get drunk, the burning of whiskey soothed him.
reminded him he was alive.
he shut his eyes and hummed as he gulped the cold whiskey down.
that’s when he heard it. a soft knock, almost like thump that could’ve been mistaken for nothing. if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t have heard it.
but bucky with his enhanced hearing, he hears it.
he sets his glass down and glances at the clock.
2:31am
he sighs and stands from his chair moving over to the front door. he could confidently say that this wasn’t what he was expecting.
shes slumped against the doorframe, cuts across her nose and her cheek. her lip split. he furrows his brows, opening the door further.
she looks up at him, her hand steadying her against the doorframe. she gives him a sheepish smile, “hey bucky,”
that’s when he notices the how clammy her skin is. the glaze in her eyes and her pupils blown wide.
is she drunk?
no… she’d been drugged.
he looks down a little further to her blood soaked hand, across her abdomen and his eyes widen, “hey what the hell happened,” already moving closer to her.
she shuffles in her position and her knees nearly give out. he instinctively reaches out steadying her with a hand around her waist, “woah, easy.”
she drops her head against his chest, like holding it up was difficult on its own. she lets out a shaky breath.
normally, bucky would scoff, tell her that her presence makes him sick. she’d tell him she couldn’t stand him. that his smug face is gonna make her hurl.
but she doesn’t.
she leans against his chest as he holds her weight up for her. without another word bucky leads her inside, shutting the door behind him.
he walks her over to the couch and gently sets her down.
“what happened?” he steps back to take in her state, settling his gaze on her stomach.
she huffs, “mission didn’t go as planned” her words come out slurred. her voice soft like she was on the verge of sleep.
he sighs, “yeah thanks sherlock,” his sarcasm seeps through his concern, “i almost thought you were drunk if you weren’t wearing your suit,”
“mmh i wish i was,” she drops her head back on the couch.
bucky steps a little closer and reaches out for her, hovering his hand over her stomach, “you were drugged,” he states rather than asks.
“i think so.”
he shakes his head, “i can tell, do you know what it was?”
she doesn’t respond. she just grumbles. to that, bucky just walks away to his closet. rummaging through something.
she turns her head, taking in his living space, as much as she could with her blurred vision. from what she could see, she could tell it was pretty empty. just the couch she was sitting on, the tv over the fireplace and a coffee table. nothing more, nothing less. no decorations. only a half drunk glass of whiskey on the table.
bucky returns with a first aid kit and a warm, damp cloth. without asking her, he slots himself under her legs, letting them rest over his thighs. gently he reaches out for her face. she flinches.
bucky frowns, “i’m not gonna hurt you.”
“i didn’t think you would.”
“then why did you flinch?”
“i just… don’t like being touched.”
he doesn’t question it. he doesn’t want to push. bucky nods. “still, i have to tend to these,” he gestures to her wounds.
reluctantly, she nods.
“okay.”
he gently unzips the front of her suit, pushing down the black suit and revealing the sticky crimson over her soft skin. he looks up to see her expression. her head thrown back and her eyes shut.
he works quickly, wiping down the blood. she winces softly, reaching for his free hand instinctively.
he lets her take it.
“it’s not too bad okay, it’s shallow, i think maybe 4-6 stitches. i’m gonna do it real quick okay?” he speaks softly, as if speaking any louder would hurt her. she nods in response.
he pulls out his needle and prepares to stitch her up, looking up every few seconds, making sure she’s okay. she whimpers softly as he stitches her up. he looks up at her with expression like this is causing him pain too.
he speaks in whispers, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, it’s almost over,” he continues to stitch her up, trying to be careful and quick.
she looks up at him, watching him work.
is bucky apologizing?
she squeezes his hand tighter, “t-thank you.”
he gives her a soft reassuring smile before looking back down.
finally he finishes her stitches, running his thumb gently around the wound before putting a bandage over it.
“it’s over sweetheart,” he says the word before registering it.
did he just? call me sweetheart?
bucky pays no mind to how the word just slipped out so naturally and begins wiping the blood from her face, gently holding her head up with his metal hand while the flesh one works. when she winces, he apologizes. again.
he had never apologized for anything before. let alone twice. not only to her, but to anyone else.
he continues to work, applying ointment to her cuts on her face. at this point she was feeling faint. her hand comes up to grip his shirt, but it wasn’t very strong. not like it usually was.
bucky looks down at her hand, then back at her face.
“you okay?” his voice dripping with concern, and that made her feel uneasy. she’d never seen him like this before.
“i’m sorry.” she meets his gaze, her eyes fighting to stay open.
bucky stops. his hand hovering over her skin, “what do you have to be sorry for? you drug yourself?” he laughs then he continues applying ointment.
“for everything. for coming here. for being mean.” her head bobs forward, but bucky doesn’t let it go, holding her head gently by the chin with one steady hand.
his gaze softens and he pushes a strand of hair from her face behind her ear. “doll i’m not exactly the nicest person to you either. don’t worry about it.”
she hums, “still, i shouldn’t have come here.”
“why did you?” he asks out of curiosity, keeping his eyes on the cut on her cheek. trying not to meet her eyes when she answers.
out of all of the people in the world, he would’ve thought he’d be the last person of her list. she’d basically said that in a lack of better words.
a beat of silence. nothing but the sound of the fire crackling could be heard.
she stares down at his chest, letting her vulnerability slip as she sighs.
maybe it was whatever she got drugged with that made her so honest. maybe it was the hitch in his breath when she squeezed his arm as he tended to her wounds. maybe it was how close his face was to hers.
finally she speaks.
“i didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
bucky looks up at her and she meets his gaze. both of them searching the others eyes with a hopeful expression.
for a second she felt like he might feel it too.
the tension in her chest when he looks at her, how much she wants him to hold her that it makes her stomach ache.
she’s not usually like this. doesn’t yearn for anyone, especially a man.
but bucky makes her feel alive. like what she was doing made a difference. even though they’d fight and bicker, he would always be there afterwards with a coffee or a sweet treat to make up for what his words lacked. he wouldn’t make her feel pressured into doing anything ever, even when he would complain about missions. he always came back for her. always.
his metal hand makes mindless soft circles through her hair, on her scalp. barely there, but enough for her to feel it.
he lets out a shaky breath. realizing just how alone she really is. he knew she didn’t have a family anymore. that they were dead. but he didn’t realize just how similar they had been.
how alike they truly are. without a family, or a real place to call home.
he lets his hand hover over her cheek and makes contact, touching the soft skin of her face.
“you’re always safe with me, you know that? always welcome.” giving her a small smile. trying to reassure her, the way he needed it too.
she lets out a shakily laugh, still reeling from her injuries, but mostly the drugs in her system. “you mean that?”
he laughs too, moving his hand down to hold hers, “i do.”
she smiles, tightening the grip on his hand. again he searches her gaze, “you aren’t appalled by me hmm? coming to my house like this.”
“should i be afraid of you?” she teases, sinking into the couch.
“no smartass, i’m just saying, you always make it seem like you hate me.”
she almost agrees, but she knows is not true. “i don’t… hate you.”
“then what?”
“i hate how you make me feel.” she murmurs.
he scoffs softly, no malice behind it, “and you think i enjoy it?”
she stares.
“you think i enjoy how you make me feel weak in my knees? i’m a damn soldier, i’ve done all these things and all that fucking blood on my hands…” he trails off like he always does, turning his gaze toward the fireplace. getting lost in his thoughts, self deprecating and all consuming.
but she doesn’t let him retreat.
she reaches out, touching his chin and turning him to face her.
“you’re not a monster bucky, you never were.”
this time he stares. dumbfounded.
she continues.
“i came to you today because you make me feel safe. because you, despite it all, feel like…” she slurs, searching for the words, trying to use another, “like-”
“like home.” he completes it for her, knowing how she felt because he felt the exact same. “you feel like home to me too.”
her expression softens, a smile lingers on the corners of her mouth. “yeah, exactly.”
he pulls her into a hug, gentle so not to hurt her. she melts immediately into it. his hands run down her arms, making her hold onto him. he shuts his eyes, burying his face in her hair.
“i’ll be your place to go to, okay?” he kisses the top of her head. “you come to me when you’re okay and when you’re not okay.”
he pulls back a bit to see her face, and meet her gaze. he wants to make sure she hears this part.
“you’re safe with me.”
she stares into his eyes, taking in his raw emotion and honesty. slowly she smiles, nuzzling her face back into his chest and hugging him tighter than before.
as they stay like that for a few minutes, she starts to succumb to the sleep that had been tugging at her for what felt like hours.
then he picks her up, keeping her close to his chest and carries her towards his room. he opens the door, setting her gently on the bed. the mattress dips as he sits, pulling the blanket over her.
for a minute, he lingers, making sure she’s comfortable before moving his hands back to his lap.
he speaks softly, “just sleep this off, i’ll sleep on the couch tonight and check on you in the morning,” he moves to get up but she grips him tighter.
“no, wait. just stay. please?”
he smiles and lets himself sink into the bed, and closer to her. he presses another kiss to her temple.
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