𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. || 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭!𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐬𝐡𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
wc : 3.3k || pls follow :3 || newest dick fiction || masterlist
summary : you and dick have been close friends for years now, and thats all it would ever be, but after he snaps and upsets you, things change. CW : kinda angst, hurt, swearing, party setting, shy/kinda insecure reader, suggestive tension, Dick being a dumb stressed party boy. yapper ass Dick bro. A/N : Reqs always open :3
You’ve known Dick Grayson since freshman orientation, back when he was just that bright eyed acrobatic kid with the killer smile and zero clue how to do laundry without turning everything pink. He’d spotted you in the corner of the welcome mixer, headphones on, nursing a half warm soda, trying not to look like you wanted the floor to swallow you whole, and just… decided you were his person.
“New best friend acquired,” he’d announced with that bright laugh of his, slinging an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. You’d blushed so hard you thought you’d pass out. He never let you forget it.
Now you were juniors, Dick was THE Dick Grayson. Golden boy of Delta Sigma Phi, star gymnasts of the Blüdhaven Universitz team, the guy who could flip across the quad and look hot while doing it. Frat parties every weekend, girls hanging off him like he was the main character in every rom-com ever made. And you? You were still the quiet one who tagged along occasionally, tucked in the corner with a book or your phone, pretending the noise didn’t make your skin crawl.
But he always found you. Always dragged you onto the dance floor for one song, spinning you until you were laughing despite yourself. Always texted you at 3am after patrols (that you didn’t fully know about but heavily suspected) with dumb memes or “you up? need your voice rn.”
He was your best friend. Nothing more.
At least… that’s what you told yourself when you watched him flirt shamelessly at every party.
The bass thumped so hard it vibrated in your chest as you squeezed through the crowded Delta house living room. Red solo cups everywhere, the air thick with cheap beer and too much cologne. You’d only come because Dick had begged “C’mon, it’s midterms week, you need to loosen up, baby” and because he’d promised to drive you home whenever you wanted - which you could already tell he’d forgotten.
You found your usual spot near the kitchen doorway, back against the wall, wearing one of his old hoodies that smelled like his detergent and that stupidly expensive cologne he loved. It was oversized on you, sleeves swallowing your hands. Comfort armor.
Dick was in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, laughing loud with that bright, blinding grin. Some sorority girl in a tiny top was pressed up against him, hands on his chest, whispering something in his ear. He didn’t push her away. He never did. He just tilted his head back and laughed harder, blue eyes sparkling under the shitty party lights.
Your stomach twisted. You looked down at your phone, pretending to scroll.
He’s just being Dick, you told yourself. Friendly. Charismatic. That’s why everyone loves him.
But the voice in your head was quieter tonight. Meaner. Why would he ever look at you like that when he could have anyone? You’re the safe, boring best friend. The one he keeps around because you listen when he’s spiraling about his family shit or the bruises he won’t explain.
You swallowed hard and slipped further into the kitchen for water. Anything to stop staring.
Hours blurred. You’d nursed two cups of water and half a warm beer someone handed you. The party was peaking — people shouting, someone doing a keg stand in the backyard. Dick had disappeared for a bit, probably showing off on the roof or something reckless like always.
You were checking the time (1:47am, definitely time to tap out) when he finally stumbled into the kitchen, hair messy, cheeks flushed from dancing and whatever shots he’d done. His white tank clung to his chest, muscles shifting under the fabric. God, he looked good. Annoyingly good.
“There you are,” he said, voice a little too loud, grin lopsided as he spotted you. “Been looking everywhere for my favourite girl.”
Your heart did that stupid flip it always did. You gave him a small smile. “Ready to head out? I’m kinda done.”
He groaned, leaning against the counter next to you, close enough that his arm brushed yours. “Already? C’mon, one more hour. Wally’s finally here — you gotta meet him properly. He’s been asking about you.”
You shifted, sleeves pulled over your hands. “I don’t know… it’s loud. And I have that paper due tomorrow.”
Dick rolled his eyes, but it was fond. At least… you thought it was. “You always have a paper due. Live a little, yeah? You’re always hiding in the corner like someone’s gonna bite you.”
The words landed heavier than he probably meant. Your cheeks burned. You laughed it off, quiet and awkward. “Not everyone can be the life of the party like you, Dick.”
He snorted, grabbing a fresh beer from the fridge and popping it open. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I wasn’t. This shit gets exhausting.” His tone shifted, just a fraction — that undercurrent of stress he usually hid behind the golden-boy mask. Patrols had been brutal lately, you could tell. He came to your dorm some nights with new bruises and that faraway look.
Before you could ask if he was okay, the sorority girl from earlier wandered in, giggling, grabbing his arm. “Dickie! Come dance again — they’re playing our song!”
He laughed, letting her pull him a step. “Gimme a sec, babe.”
Babe.
Something in your chest cracked. You looked away fast, muttering, “I’ll just… call an Uber. You stay. Have fun.”
Dick’s head snapped back toward you. “What? No, I said I’d take you home.”
“It’s fine,” you said, voice smaller than you wanted. You were already pulling out your phone. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”
The girl tugged his arm again, impatient. Dick’s jaw ticked — that tiny flash of irritation he got when things weren’t going his way. He was tired. Stressed. The double life of Nightwing and frat king was clearly catching up.
“Jesus, can you not make this difficult right now?” he snapped, louder than necessary. The words cut through the kitchen noise. A couple people glanced over. “You always do this. Act like you’re too good for the fun shit, then guilt-trip me when I actually try to enjoy myself. I’m not your fucking babysitter, okay?”
The room didn’t exactly go silent, but to you it felt like it.
Your eyes stung instantly. You blinked hard, staring at the sticky floor. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry in front of everyone.
“I… wasn’t,” you whispered, voice cracking despite yourself. “Sorry. I’ll go.”
You turned and pushed through the crowd before he could say anything else, hoodie sleeves yanked down, shoulders curled in. The bass swallowed everything as you made it outside, cool night air hitting your wet cheeks.
You didn’t take an Uber. You walked the twenty minutes back to your dorm in the hoodie that still smelled like him, tears blurring the streetlights. Your phone buzzed a few times. Dick’s name popping up, but you silenced it.
By the time you got to your room, you were a mess. Curled up on your bed in the dark, knees to your chest, replaying his words on loop.
“You always do this…”
“I’m not your fucking babysitter…”
He was right, maybe. You were the boring one. The shy tag-along who couldn’t keep up with his world. Why did you even let yourself hope he saw you differently?
Your eyes burned until they finally closed sometime after 3am.
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The knock on your dorm door came at 4:12am.
You jolted awake, heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted to escape. The sound was soft at first, hesitant, then a little more insistent. A familiar voice filtered through the wood, rough and low, nothing like the loud frat-boy laugh from earlier.
“Baby? It’s me. Open up… please.”
Dick.
You stayed frozen under the covers for a long second, breath shaky, knees still pulled to your chest from where you’d cried yourself to sleep. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to pull the blanket over your head and pretend the night had never happened. The other part, the stupid, hopeless part that had been in love with him since freshman year, was already swinging your legs over the side of the bed, padding across the cold floor in your pajamas and his oversized hoodie.
You cracked the door open just enough to see him.
He looked wrecked. Hair damp from the night air or maybe a quick shower, eyes red-rimmed like he’d been rubbing them raw, that bright golden-boy energy completely drained. He was in a black hoodie and sweats now, shoulders slumped forward, hands shoved deep in his pockets like he didn’t trust them not to reach for you too soon. No trace of the party king who’d snapped at you in the kitchen. Just Dick. The real one who showed up at your door at stupid hours when the weight of everything got too heavy.
When his gaze landed on your face, puffy eyes, tear tracks still drying on your cheeks, the way you wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, his expression crumpled instantly.
“Fuck,” he breathed, voice cracking right down the middle. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
You didn’t say anything at first. Just stepped back silently so he could come in, closing the door behind him with a quiet click that felt louder than it should have in the dark room. The only light came from your string lights strung above the bed, casting soft warm glows across the posters and the pile of textbooks you’d abandoned earlier.
Dick didn’t waste time with small talk or excuses. He crossed the small space in two strides and pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around you so tight it almost hurt in the best way. His face buried straight into your hair, breathing you in like he was scared you’d disappear if he let go even for a second. You could feel his heart racing against your cheek, fast and uneven, matching the way yours was still stuttering.
“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, the words tumbling out raw and desperate. “Not a single fucking word. I was pissed at everything — the team lost a competition earlier, patrol was a nightmare, and then that girl wouldn’t leave me alone and I just… I took it all out on you. My sweet, patient girl who’s always there for me no matter how much I fuck up. God, I’m such an idiot.”
You stayed stiff at first, hands limp at your sides, the hurt from the party still sitting heavy in your stomach like lead. His hoodie smelled like him, like home, but the memory of his sharp tone made your throat tight.
“You called me difficult,” you mumbled into his chest, voice tiny and cracking despite how hard you tried to keep it steady. “Like I’m some burden you have to drag around. Like I’m too much for just wanting to go home.”
He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the fresh tears that slipped out. Those bright blue eyes — usually sparkling with mischief and charm at every party — were soft and devastated now, glassy in the low light. Only for you. Always only for you, even if he was too scared to say it most days.
“You’re not,” he said fiercely, forehead pressing gently against yours so you had no choice but to look at him. “You never have been. You’re the only person who sees the real me.”
“Not Nightwing swinging around Blüdhaven, not the frat president who has to smile and pretend everything’s perfect, not the guy who has to be ‘on’ for everyone all the time. Just… Dick. The one who’s scared shitless half the time and still tries to be everything for his family, for the team, for you.” It’s annoying how good he was with his words.
His voice dropped lower, gentler, the gravelly edge from exhaustion making it even softer. “I flirt with girls because it’s easy. Surface level. It doesn’t mean anything. But you? You scare the hell out of me because you matter. If I lose you because I’m a dumbass who can’t handle his own shit when he’s tired and stressed… I don’t know what I’d do. I’d be fucking lost.”
The insecurity still lingered in your chest, whispering that you were the boring one, the shy tag-along who couldn’t keep up with his loud, bright world. But his words wrapped around it like a warm blanket, slowly choking out the mean voice. His hands were trembling slightly against your cheeks, thumbs still stroking slow circles like he was trying to memorize every inch of your face.
“I’m sorry I snapped,” he continued, voice barely above a whisper now. “You weren’t guilt-tripping me. You were just… being you. The girl who wears my hoodies and listens when I ramble about stupid patrol stories I can’t tell anyone else. The one who makes everything feel less chaotic even when you’re hiding in the corner at parties. I love that about you. I’m so fucking gone for you, baby. Have been for longer than I want to admit.”
He leaned in slow, giving you every chance to pull away, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. When you didn’t move, his lips brushed yours. Soft at first, tentative, like he was afraid he didn’t deserve this. Then deeper, pouring every apology and every hidden feeling into it. One hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently through your hair, while the stayed on your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
When he finally pulled back, he was smiling that small, real smile. The one reserved for late night dorm talks and rooftop confessions after patrol, not the big flashy grin he gave the sorority girls.
“C’mere,” he murmured, voice husky. He kicked off his shoes and guided you back toward the bed without letting go, tugging the covers over both of you as you climbed in. You curled into his side automatically, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat finally start to slow down as his arms locked around you possessively.
“I’m staying right here,” he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple. “No more parties tonight. No more dumb shit. Just you and me. We’ll get breakfast in the morning at that shitty diner you like with the extra crispy bacon and those ridiculous pancakes. And I’ll make it up to you. Every single day if you let me.”
You let out a shaky little laugh, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his shirt over his chest. The hurt wasn’t gone completely, insecurities like yours didn’t vanish overnight — but it was quieter now, softer, drowned out by the steady rise and fall of his breathing and the way his hand rubbed slow circles on your back.
“You’re such a sap when you feel guilty,” you whispered, voice still a little thick from crying.
“Only for you,” he whispered back, holding you even tighter, chin resting on top of your head. “Always only for you.”
The room grew quiet after that, just the distant hum of campus life outside and the occasional car passing by. Dick didn’t fall asleep right away. You could tell by the way his fingers kept playing with the sleeve of his own hoodie on your body, like he needed the constant reminder that you were still there, still letting him hold you. Every so often he’d press another soft kiss to your hair or murmur another quiet “I’m sorry” like he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.
You drifted off eventually with his warmth surrounding you, the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint trace of night air clinging to his hoodie. For the first time that night, the knot in your stomach loosened completely.
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The sun was creeping through your blinds when you woke up, tangled in him. Dick was still asleep, face relaxed for once. No stress lines, no golden-boy mask, one arm slung possessively over your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away in the night. His breathing was deep and even, chest rising steadily under your cheek.
Your chest felt warm. Lighter. The memory of his harsh words from the party still sat there, but it didn’t sting as sharply anymore. Not when he’d shown up looking like his world had ended, not when he’d held you like you were the most important thing in it.
He stirred when you shifted slightly, blinking awake with that sleepy, lopsided grin that made your stomach flip every single time. His hair was messy, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the way he looked at you was soft and focused, like nothing else existed.
“Morning, best friend,” he teased, voice raspy and low, the words carrying that familiar playful edge. Then, quieter, more serious as his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear: “Morning, my girl.”
You blushed hard, hiding your face in the crook of his neck to escape the intensity of his gaze. He chuckled, the sound vibrating through you warmly, and pulled you even closer, legs tangling with yours under the covers.
“Don’t hide from me now,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “Not after I spent half the night groveling. Though… I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it means waking up like this.”
You peeked up at him, fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “You really meant all that? About being gone for me?”
Dick’s expression turned earnest, the frat-boy charm melting away into something deeper, more vulnerable. He rolled you gently so you were half on top of him, hands settling on your hips as he looked up at you with those bright blue eyes that always saw too much.
“Every word,” he said softly. “I’ve been an idiot for a while, trying to keep the two worlds separate — the parties, the patrols, the expectations. But you’re the only thing that makes both feel worth it. You don’t ask me to be perfect. You just… let me be me. Even when I’m a mess.”
He leaned up to kiss you again, slow and sweet this time, like he had all morning to prove it. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“No more snapping at you when I’m stressed. No more letting random girls hang all over me if it hurts you. I’m yours — if you’ll have me. Fratboy, Nightwing, all the complicated shit included.”
Your heart swelled, the last lingering insecurity quieting under the weight of his words and the gentle way his thumbs stroked your sides.
“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling shyly as you brushed your nose against his. “I’ll have you. All of it.”
He grinned then, that full, blinding smile that lit up the whole room, and flipped you both so he was hovering over you, careful not to crush you as he peppered your face with light kisses.
“Good. Because I’m not letting go anytime soon, baby. Now… about that breakfast. You still want those pancakes?”
You laughed, the sound light and real for the first time since the party, nodding as you pulled him down for another kiss.
Outside, campus was waking up, but in your little dorm room with the string lights still glowing faintly, the world felt smaller. Safer. Just you and Dick. The golden boy who fucked up, who carried too many secrets, who partied too hard and loved too quietly — but who always came back to you.
And now you weren’t just the shy best friend in the corner anymore. You were his girl.
The one he was only ever soft for.
A/N : I fear I proofread this so much to the point I hate it bye blergh. 🍅🍅🍅
@fancy-possum © 2026. All work belongs to me and I have not used ANY ai platform to ‘enhance’ my writing. I do not consent to my writing being tweaked, reposted on other platforms, translated or fed into ai. FUCK AI.
