𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀
dick grayson x bruce's secretary!reader
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
