bullet - d. grayson
dick grayson x fem!reader
summary: during a mission, you get injured but hide it from Dick until he finds out because you've passed out.
w/c: 2.8k
The van sped down the road, streetlights flashing in and out of view through the rain-streaked windshield. Dick was driving, you in the passenger seat next to him, Rachel wedged between Gar and Kory in the back. Your eyes drifted between the road and Dick, his jaw clenched in concentration as his hands gripped the wheel, his knuckles practically turning white. No one spoke. The mood in the van was tense – another mission, another fight. You didn’t dare speak up.
You had finally gotten a lead on Deathstroke’s location and you were determined to get to him before he got to you. You wouldn’t let him win this time. Last time, you, Dick, and Kory had barely gotten away. Deathstroke had quickly overpowered you all; with his skills, his powers, and his weapons, he was just too strong.
BANG!
Out of nowhere, the sound of a deafening gunshot echoes down the nearly empty street. Sparks erupt from the hood of the car, causing Dick to swear under his breath. “Everyone down!” Dick barked, to which everyone of course listened. The van lurched forward, however, it wasn’t long before the van seized all movement — stopping in the middle of the road. You all knew who it was. Deathstroke. It seemed like he knew you guys were coming and decided to just meet you halfway.
Kory opened the van’s door, and stepped out, her hands glowing with power. There he stood, Deathstroke, perched on the hood of a wrecked sedan up ahead, his rifle trained on the van. The second Kory stepped out, he fired again. She barely dodged, rolling behind cover as the asphalt sparked where she’d just been standing.
Dick glanced over at you, then back at Gar and Rach, “We have to move!” Dick shouted, voice filled with urgency.
The gunfire died down, and you all pushed the doors open. Gar and Rach sprinted out, using the van as cover. As you were about to follow suit, Dick grabbed your hand, making you turn around to look at him. You locked eyes, instantly recognising the look of worry his gaze held. It was a look you’d seen many times before on these kinds of missions. “Stay close to me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. You nodded, responding “Yes, sir,” as a joke.
The corners of his mouth quirked up in a small smile before his face hardened and he left the van, you following close behind, grabbing your weapon. It was a sleek bow with arrows made of refracted light (the light would disperse and reform in your hand after hitting a target).
Yet, the second you left the van, pain tore through your side. You let out a small gasp at the sudden sensation but luckily, no one had heard you and for that, you were glad. You didn’t need them worrying about you at that moment. Glancing down, you noticed the blood starting to stain your clothes — ‘fuck’ you thought. The bastard must’ve shot you. But you chose to ignore it for the moment, the adrenaline already numbing some of the pain. You couldn’t let this slow you down.
Dick was already closing in on Deathstroke and Kory hurled a blast towards him, forcing Deathstroke to leap back. He was fast, unnaturally so, but not fast enough to dodge Kory’s attack. Deathstroke fired a grappling hook, and in an instant, he was yanking himself up to a nearby rooftop, his escape swift. Where had he even gotten a grappling hook from? You were sure that guns and blades were more his thing.
“No way he’s getting away,” you muttered to yourself, ignoring the growing pain in your side. You could barely hear your own voice over the pounding in your chest, your heart struggling to pump blood as more and more of the sticky red liquid was leaving your body through your wound.
Dick was already scaling the fire escape, making sure he wouldn’t let Deathstroke get away this time. But as he’s climbing the stairs, he turns back to you, noticing the way you faltered behind him. He shoots you a look of concern and slight confusion, as if to ask if you were fine. You just gave him a small “I’m okay,” before catching up with him, ignoring the way every muscle in your body basically screamed for you to stop. You gritted your teeth and pushed forward, determined to keep up, to be by your boyfriend’s side. Every instinct told you to push harder, to not let Deathstroke win again.
You’d fought beside Dick countless times, but tonight, something felt different. Maybe it was the way his back was a little straighter, his movements a little sharper, as if he was aware of your every breath. His face held a look of scepticism — he didn’t believe you but there wasn’t really any time for arguing right now.
Dick reached the top of the fire escape in seconds, pausing to look back down at you. His eyes locked onto yours, a flash of something passing between you before he turned his attention back to Deathstroke. You made it to the top only mere seconds after Dick, now stood side by side with him.
Deathstroke stood at the far end of the rooftop, his stance relaxed despite the fact that he was outnumbered. He held his sword loosely at his side now. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” he mused, voice distorted by the modulator in his helmet. “But you should’ve learned by now, Grayson. You don’t win against me.”
Dick didn’t answer, just adjusted his stance slightly, his escrima sticks slipping into his hands with practised ease. You drew an arrow, the energy vibrating slightly in your grip. The pain in your side was intensifying, but you pushed it down, keeping your breathing even. You weren’t about to let this bastard see any sort of weakness you had.
Deathstroke took a step forward. “And you,” he tilted his head toward you, as if he could sense the injury you were desperately trying to hide. “You don’t look so good.”
Those words basically confirmed Dick’s worries. You weren’t okay, and even Deathstroke had realised. Dick looked over at you next to him and shifted closer to you out of pure instinct — he wasn’t going to let Deathstroke harm you and you knew it. He’d protect you until his last breath.
“You’re stalling,” Dick said, voice tight.
Deathstroke chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like watching you all struggle.”
And with that, he lunged towards you, his sword clashing with Dick’s escrima sticks in a shower of sparks. You forced your body forward, drawing an arrow despite the way your vision swam at the edges. You fired. The arrow sliced through the air, light bending as it honed in on its target. But Deathstroke was already shifting, dodging at the last second. The arrow grazed his shoulder, leaving a searing scorch mark on his armour. You could feel the warmth of your blood spreading in a stain across your clothes but you paid no attention to it.
Suddenly, Deathstroke pulled out a device and as you looked closer, you realised it was actually a grenade. However, Dick still hadn’t noticed because he was too busy engaged in battle with him and you had to alert him.
You shouted out, “Dick, watch out! He’s got a grenade!”
But as soon as you warned him, Deathstroke pulled the pin and threw the grenade in your direction. In an instant, Dick pulls you away from the grenade and to the ground, shielding you from the explosion with his body on top of yours.
Dick looked back but Deathstroke was nowhere to be seen. He sighed and his brown eyes locked with yours, concern evident on his face. “Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet.
You swayed a little as you stood, the blood loss finally catching up to you. You began to respond, “Yea-” but before you could continue, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, causing you to pass out. Your knees buckled underneath you and gave out but before you could fall, Dick caught you, his arms instantly wrapped around your waist to hold you securely. He gently lowered you to the ground, putting your head on his lap. “Baby?” he called out, gently shaking your shoulder in an effort to wake you up. “Y/N?” he called out again, shaking you more firmly this time. But still, no response. That’s when he noticed it — the wound in your side. It had been hard to see before as it was dark and rainy but now that he’d finally noticed it, he cursed at himself for not noticing sooner, and at you for hiding this from him.
Dick’s breath hitched as he pressed his hand against your wound, his fingers quickly growing wet with your blood. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his pulse hammering in his ears. You were losing way too much blood, way too quickly.
Dick’s hands trembled as he pressed harder against your wound, trying to slow the bleeding. “Come on, stay with me,” he muttered under his breath, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The rest of the team was already rushing up the fire escape, their footsteps echoing against the metal.
“Dick? What happened?” Kory was the first to reach him, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of you unconscious in his lap.
“She’s hurt – bad,” Dick said through clenched teeth, his voice tight with worry. He glanced down at your face, the rain making your skin feel even colder beneath his fingertips. His jaw clenched. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to protect you.
Gar dropped to his knees beside him, his hazel eyes full of fear. “We need to get her out of here,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. You were like an older sister to him and it hurt him to see you like this.
Rachel was already at your side, her hands hovering hesitantly over your wound. “I can help,” she whispered. Her powers might’ve still been unpredictable, but she couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. She closed her eyes, her dark energy slowly creeping toward you, surrounding your wound with an eerie glow.
Dick barely registered Kory and Gar keeping watch for Deathstroke; his entire world had shrunk down to you, barely breathing in his arms. He gently brushed a strand of wet hair away from your face, his own expression torn between guilt and fear. “Just hold on, okay? You’re gonna be fine,” he whispered, his voice almost breaking. He knew you probably couldn’t hear him in your state but he so badly wished you could.
Your body shuddered slightly at Rachel’s healing attempts, a faint groan escaping your lips. Dick’s breath hitched. “That’s it. Stay with me,” he urged, his grip tightening on your hand.
Rachel’s energy flickered as she gritted her teeth, struggling to mend the wound fully. “It’s… it’s too deep. I can slow the bleeding, but we need to get her actual help,” she admitted, sweat beading on her forehead from the effort.
Dick didn’t hesitate. “We’re getting her back to the Tower. Now.”
Without another word, he scooped you up into his arms, his grip firm but careful. His mind was racing. Deathstroke had won this round but that didn’t matter. Right now, all that mattered was getting you back in one piece.
As the team hurried back toward the van, which Kory had somehow managed to mend, Dick held you closer, his heart hammering against his ribs. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured again, almost like a promise. “I’ve got you.”
The drive back to Titans Tower was a blur of flashing streetlights and the distant hum of sirens. Dick sat in the back with you, his arms wrapped securely around your unconscious
form. The others sat tensely, throwing worried glances your way, but Dick barely noticed. His entire focus was on you, on the shallow rise and fall of your chest, the way your skin felt ice-cold against his own.
“Faster,” he urged Kory, who was driving. His voice was strained, barely controlled.
Kory didn’t argue, pressing harder on the gas.
Rachel sat beside him, her hands still glowing faintly as she did her best to keep your wound from worsening. “I don’t know if I can do more until we get back,” she admitted, her voice small.
“You’ve done enough, Rach,” Gar reassured her. “We’re almost there.”
Dick barely heard them. He leaned down, his forehead nearly brushing yours. “Just hold on, okay? We’re almost home,” he murmured, as if saying it enough times would make it true.
By the time they reached the Tower, Gar had the door open before the van even fully stopped. Dick didn’t hesitate, lifting you into his arms and sprinting inside to the elevator.
As soon as you were there, “Get the med kit,” he barked, his usual calm completely gone.
Rachel and Kory ran ahead to prepare the medical bay while Dick carried you inside, his grip tightening as he felt just how limp you were against him. The second he laid you down on the examination table, he was already working to stop the bleeding. His hands were stained red, and it made him feel sick. He was used to blood but this was different. It was your blood.
“Come on, baby. Don’t do this to me,” he muttered under his breath.
Kory returned with the supplies, and Rachel immediately moved to help. Dick forced himself to stay steady as he worked, pressing gauze against your wound, helping Kory clean it, listening as Rachel directed them on what she could and couldn’t heal.
“She’s lost too much blood,” Rachel said after what felt like an eternity. “But she’s stable for now.”
Dick let out a slow breath, but the relief was short-lived. You were stable, but barely. Now, all he could do was wait.
Hours passed. The others had long since drifted in and out, checking in but giving Dick space. He hadn’t moved from your side. His hands were still covered in dried blood, but he didn’t care. His fingers curled around yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.
“You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” he murmured, his voice hoarse.
The room was quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Dick swallowed hard, his free hand running through his messy hair. “You should’ve told me you were hurt,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “I would’ve- dammit, I don’t know. I would’ve done something.” He sighed, leaning forward so his elbows rested on the edge of the bed. His forehead nearly touched your hand. “I should’ve seen it sooner. I should’ve protected you.”
Silence.
Then, a small, barely audible groan.
Dick’s head snapped up just as your fingers twitched in his. His heart nearly stopped. “Y/N?” he whispered, his grip tightening slightly. Your eyelids fluttered, and after a few seconds, you finally opened your eyes. They were hazy, and unfocused, but they were on him. A weak smile tugged at your lips. “Hey, Boy Wonder,” you rasped, your voice hoarse from exhaustion.
A breathless laugh escaped him, more out of sheer relief than anything else. “Hey,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
You blinked slowly, taking in his exhausted face. “You look like crap.”
Dick let out another soft laugh, shaking his head. “And you’re one to talk?” He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your palm. “You scared the shit out of me.” Your smile faded slightly, and you squeezed his hand back, weak, but reassuring. “I’m okay,” you whispered.
Dick exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.” He glanced over at the machines monitoring you before looking back into your eyes. “But you’re not allowed to do that again. Ever.”
You chuckled softly, but it turned into a wince. Dick was immediately alert, his hands moving to support you. “Hey, easy,” he soothed.
You looked up at him, eyes laced with exhaustion but filled with warmth. “You stayed.”
Dick’s expression softened. He reached up, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. “Of course I did.” His voice was quiet but firm. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
You squeezed his hand again, your grip a little stronger this time. “Guess I’ll have to keep scaring you just to get you to admit how much you care,” you teased weakly.
Dick shook his head with a small smirk. “You don’t have to get shot to get me to admit that, idiot.” He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You mean everything to me.”
Your eyes fluttered shut again, this time out of comfort rather than unconsciousness. Dick stayed right where he was, his hand never letting go of yours. For the first time since the mission started, he allowed himself to breathe. And he wasn’t letting you out of his sight ever again.
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