Note: I don’t care what people say, it is perfectly acceptable to wear socks in bed… especially when your SO is also prone to ice feet. *sticks out tongue* Anywho… trying a new fic rotation schedule. Are Tuesdays okay, with the series and requests still coming out on Friday? Having three (or more) coming out on the same day is a bit much. Let me know of any feedback you’ve got. Tag lists, requests, and general comments are always open. Enjoy!
You were cold. You didn’t like being cold. Especially on a rare sleep-in morning. So you grabbed the winter sheet with both hands and tugged it with all your might. A minute or so later, it was tugged away.
“Seriously,” you hissed. You turned, ready to steal the sheets back even at the cost of waking him up but stopped short. With a sigh, you settled back into the pillows and observed him.
Halloween had been pretty hectic this year. Multiple rogues, and several working together to cause the most chaos they could. Dick’s under-eyes were darker than usual. And now that you’d thought about it, he’d only come in a few hours ago. For all the crazy nights and late hours, his face looked the most peaceful when he was asleep. You’d had an easier time of it as dispatch. And as such, technically needed more sleep instead of a morning fight.
So, you snuggled closer to him and went back to sleep.
***
Sleep-in mornings also meant an 80% chance of waking up horny.
In only a few hours of extra sleep, your feelings for Dick had flipped 180 degrees. But you still didn’t want to wake him.
He groaned in his sleep and the edges of his mouth twitched. The way his eyes were moving behind his lids, he must have been having a good dream.
Oh. Maybe you could… no. He needed to sleep. Needed more than just a few hours of it. But you know how to do it without waking him up. He really likes it. Yeah, and then he wakes up and- And ravages you. Ravaging is not resting. No. But- No.
You huffed, falling back into the pillows. Dick hummed in his sleep, thrusting his hips.
Fine.
Doing your best not to shift the sheets too much, you flipped so that your bottom half was outside, and your head was under. It didn’t matter that you were in sweats and socks, your legs were chilled. If this worked, you would be warm soon enough too. Dick was wearing similar attire, but the sweats were old and the elastic was long gone. Meaning that you could untie the string holding them tight around his body and easily get to his cock.
Already your mouth was watering. And he wasn’t fully hard yet.
Dick gasped in his sleep as you began to slowly pump his length. It swelled and warmed in your hand. You twirled your thumb around the top, smiling as you were rewarded with a bead of precum. His hips gave another jolt, pumping himself in your hand. He whimpered as you sloppily kissed up and down his cock.
“Y/N,” he moaned.
You froze, minimizing your hand movements until you were sure he was still asleep. Then you took the head into your mouth, humming at the taste. Taking him further, you gripped his base. With your other hand, you found that small spot behind his balls and made him gasp louder than before. His hands clawed at the sheets. You like to call it his only weakness. He called it ‘cheating.’ Never stopped you from using though, and you kept pulsing pressure on it while taking him further.
A flush had crept into your skin. And you were pressing your thighs together. If he were awake, Dick would make some comment about how you liked sucking him off more than he did.
“Y/N.”
Oops.
The sheets were pulled away and you stifled a grin as Dick visibly had to take a moment having seen you with your lips around his cock. “Good morning,” you hummed, devilishly licking him from balls to tip.
“’Mornin’,” he breathed. His throat constricted as you went back to work. “Not that I’m complaining, but…” he choked back a moan as you swallowed him down. “Y/N, not that I’m complaining, but what brought this on?”
“Wanted to make you feel good and rested. Needed you.”
He gave an airy laugh. “And this helping me rest?” Before you could make him cum, he pulled you away from his cock. “Am I allowed a request?”
You smiled softly. “Of course, baby. What do you want?”
A second later, he was tugging your sweatpants off. His were tossed to the floor too. Then you were sitting on his abdomen while his hands slid up under your sleep shirt to your breasts. You rocked back and forth across his stomach. Each time his length trapped between your bodies twitched, you shivered, making Dick all the more eager in his pinching of your nipples. Your shirt joined the pile.
Dick guided you to finally sink down on him. Both of you gave a series of stuttered sighs until there wasn’t any more space between your thighs and his hips. You began to rock. Feeling him bump against every inside inch of you. Whimpering as his grip on your hips guided you up so he could thrust. You braced on his chest, clawing and shuddering.
“That’s it, Y/N. Ride me. It’s my turn to make you feel good. Need you,” he whined.
Jumbled sounds fell through your parted lips. From under your lidded eyes, you could see Dick doing his best to hold onto his composure. Waiting for you. You bounced harder, racing to catch up.
“Don’t fight it, baby,” you said. “I’m so close.”
He sucked on his thumb and took it to your clit. You went rigid and cried out. He followed you shortly, tightening his grip on your hips and holding you down to feel every burst of his cum inside you. When he was spent, he helped you fall back to your side of the bed. You ignored how sweaty your bodies were and did your best to lay as close to him as you could.
Dick’s phone pinged. He groaned rolling over to it but reading it changed his mood. “Thank you, Cassandra.” He left it on the nightstand and turned back to you, curling you into his chest. “She’s back in town and Bruce says she’s got my shifts today.”
You bit your lip. “So… you get to be home all day?”
He heard the hopeful twinge to your voice. “I do.” A grin spread across his face, spreading further to yours. “Do you want waffles for breakfast?”
As lovely as that sounded… “can we sleep for a few more hours? Waffles for lunch?”
Dick kissed the tip of your nose. “Of course.” He smirked. “Only if I get to wake you up this time.”
The reader snarks that Dick should do something to keep her from wanting to go out in the dark. So he brings the darkness to her.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: SMUT, vampire play (can I call it that?) sir/sub, bondage, oral (female receiving), biting, slight bloodplay
Word Count: 1930
Note: Felt in a vampy mood. And it was DC week on my writing schedule. Happy month of Halloween! Tag lists and requests open as always. Enjoy!
“Dick, I swear by that bedazzled disco monstrosity you used to wear, if I find out you’ve lost my blaster wrist guards again I’m going to-“
His finger was on your lips in a second. “I did not lose them. And, for the record, I didn’t lose them the first time. I was modifying them.”
You scoffed. “I couldn’t get them to work for a month after you ‘modified’ them. Where are they this time?” He looked nervous. If you weren’t so worried for your gear it would have been cute. And hot how he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure-“
“Dick-“
“Stop saying it like that. You love my dick. Not a hundred percent sure, but I’m… fifty… six percent sure they are in the cave next to the computer. I was trying to download their diametrics- Y/N.” He sighed and caught your arm as you tried to leave the room. “If I can… upgrade them a bit I’ll feel better about sending you out there.”
It was a long ongoing debate. And it intensified at about the same time every year.
“Sweetie, you can’t keep worrying about me every time October rolls around. I’ve been doing this a while. I can handle it.” You gently removed his hand and headed towards your bedroom. It had been a long day… a long week. You were due for a shower and some sleep on your night off. “You know, if you wanted to keep me from seeking justice in the dark, you should probably find something to keep me here.”
The Wayne mansion may have been old as dirt and lacking in electrical outlets in the main house, but Bruce had spared no expense in the plumping. There was never a shortage of hot water. The great ventilation protected the tiles and woodwork and ensured the mirrors never fogged. Alfred was still your favorite. He was the one who had commissioned the giant fluffy towels unique to each team member.
You stepped out of the bathroom and found you couldn’t see a meter past your feet. The room was pitch dark.
“Dick?” you called. “Richard Grayson, what did you do?”
The bathroom light went out, making you squeak at first. Then you ducked and crouched to move around the room. You were just reaching for your emergency gun when a cold hand brushed across your knuckles. It caught you before you could move away. You were pulled to your feet and pinned against the wall.
“Tonight, darling, it’s not Richard.” Two bright red eyes opened in front of you. “It’s sir.”
With a snap, the room was barely illuminated by a series of candles set around. They had real flames and were too sporadic for him to have been able to light them electronically. And his eyes.
“How are you doing that?” They were mesmerizing. You couldn’t look away and let yourself be led to the bed.
“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered in a voice that sounded more like him. “You said you wanted something to keep you in tonight. I’ll answer anything you ask… later.” He tugged the towel and watched it fall to the floor with a groan. “If you still have voice enough to ask.” He grinned, showing off elongated canines and premolars.
Damn, that was hot.
He guided you to lay on the bed. Still mesmerized by his eyes and fluid movements, you didn’t notice the cuffs until they clicked into place. A twinge of panic made you pull at them. He laughed. Dick cupped your face in his hand and brought your attention back to him. Your writhing stilled. Your breathing evened. He smiled and leaned forward to capture you in the first kiss of many.
The fangs occasionally caught at your lips. His tongue delved deep into your mouth, mimicking the patterns you hoped he would replicate between your thighs later. You whined into his mouth; you wanted more. His tight grip suddenly on your hips cut you off at a gasp.
“Are you going to be good tonight, darling?”
“Yes.”
His eyes flashed.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he crooned. Again, his lips caught yours. He sucked on your bottom lip, then tilted your head for access to your neck. Your blood pounded in your ears the closer he came to your jugular. For a split second, you wondered if this really was your partner or something that had replaced him and was about to drink you dry. Weirder things had happened. The teeth did not connect. He breathed over your pulse point, sending goosebumps dancing across your skin. He kissed you softly, humming into your skin in a way only you would know.
It was him. And he was about to have his sweet wicked way with you.
“Please-“
“No. There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now I just want you to feel.” Dick leaned back and trailed his fingertips down your body. They weren’t as cold as before but compared to the heat of your body, they were like ice. Your body arched under his touch. If you couldn’t beg out loud, your body could do it for you. Including how your thighs rubbed together. Dick noticed and shifted down so he could lightly force them open.
All of your nerves shivered with anticipation. He dragged his nose down the center of your stomach, then down one thigh and up the other. You whimpered.
Dick smirked. “Always so difficult. Maybe I should keep you here all night.” He gave a slight tap to the underside of your thigh. “You know I am infinitely more patient than you. Don’t you agree?”
You nodded your head while your chest stuttered mid-heave.
“Good girl.”
You were forced to bite your lip. The cuffs jangled as you tightened your hold around them. Dick had pushed your thighs further apart and was flattening his tongue against you. Curling it into your heat. Lapping at you. More than tasting. Devouring. And those teeth would scrape on either side of your lips, making your hips jump as if you wanted to be bitten. All the while your throat felt like it was burning with all the sounds you couldn’t make. And Dick kept doing all he could to cause them.
“I like this game,” he purred, curling a finger into your heat. “Good training exercise. How to be silent when you need stealth.” He kissed your inner thigh and nipped at it with his teeth. “You’re doing so good, Y/N. So quiet… I can almost hear your heart thundering.”
It would not have surprised you if he could.
Dick added another finger to his ministrations and sucked lightly at your clit. He nipped harder at your thigh when you gasped. You thought he’d back off. Give you time to recover, perhaps. No. Instead, he moved faster. Sucked harder. Ate you out noisily and scissored you open while you gushed. Your body went rigid as he curled into the perfect place. He eased you through your orgasm, guiding you while also prolonging the pleasure until you were bucking away from his hand. He licked and nipped his way up to your breasts.
Although they were already at attention, Dick sucked on your nipples like he would during preparing you. It seemed he was preparing you for something more. Something you waited for on baited breath as he situated himself between your thighs. His length ran up through your folds, toying with your sensitivity.
“Are you ready to scream for me, darling?”
You nodded.
“Let me hear you, baby.”
“Yes, sir,” you moaned. Your voice was already wrecked.
Proudly, he grinned and his red eyes flashed. “Hold nothing back, now. I want all of it.”
There was a lot to give.
He filled you in one solid thrust. While your body adjusted, he panted and braced himself on either side of your body. Your eyes were too crossed to see much of his face.
“Always so perfect for me.” He leaned even more forward, taking the chance to undo your cuffs and to impossibly deepen his reach. “Mark me. Because I am going to be marking you.”
Naturally, your hands wrapped around to his back. You held on, digging your nails into his skin for stability.
His hips began a slow rhythm that got faster the more you screamed. He braced against the headboard for the both of you, his other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible. A strangled gasp escaped between his lips as your hips started to match his. Back and forth. The sound of everything he was doing to you was loud, so you had to be louder. He worked to make you louder.
You felt his hot breath on your neck before you felt his teeth. His shoulders rippled under your nails as you clawed them deeper. The bite made your body shudder and almost sent you over the edge.
“Please, sir, again.”
He chuckled low and dark. “Again, she asks.” He made you moan with a strong thrust before slowing down his pace. “And what will you give me for such a kiss, darling?”
With a shuddering breath, you turned your head closer to his ear. “More of me than I have ever been able to give you before.”
Dick growled and harshly twisted your neck so he could once again have access to your throat. His hips once again brought you to the precipice. They slammed into you over and over again. But he waited. Your high pitched moans and desperate clinging to him did nothing. He waited. He removed his hand for just a second, only enough so he could sling your leg higher over his hip. He waited until your eyes could no longer fight to stay open, and your breathing had reduced to shallow pants.
Then he bit you.
He bit at the curve of your neck just as it turned into your shoulder. There was a split-second pause, then your skin gave way to his teeth. Your body gave way to pleasure. And Dick fell along with you. His usual guttural cry was muffled against your skin. It vibrated through you and made you arch even closer to him.
Your bodies stuck together as he collapsed. You didn’t let go, not wanting him to leave. His warm body against yours was always the best part of the last thing you would remember before falling asleep. Still, he kissed over your bite mark and left for a minute. Your eyes drooped, but you could feel him taking care of your wound and cleaning you up.
When he finally slipped into bed, you hummed in delight and curled towards his chest. You decided you could fight sleep for just a little longer.
“How long had you been planning this?”
“Since you made me watch Queen of the Damned last month.”
You laughed and poked his chest. “I didn’t make you do anything. I was watching my movie and you plopped down and stole my popcorn. You’ve never complained about my smug indulgences before.”
He nuzzled at your jawline. “Not complaining now. I kinda liked how you reacted to me tonight.” You hissed as he nipped at your neck again with his fancy new teeth.
With a hushed sigh, you tilted your head to give him more access again. “What can I say? The best things happen in the dark. And baby, you are the best of darkness.”
Note: There was supposed to be more to this, but the week got away from me. If you’d like there to be a smutty part two, let me know. Any other thoughts, comments, and ideas can be sent to my requests, which is open for business. So is my tag list for a bunch of fandoms. Enjoy!
When he walked in, he immediately stood out like a perfect target. The swagger was like something pulled out film noir. A bad one. And the “tattoos?” Even temporary tats should be applied over a few days so they don’t all look fresh, ignoring how fake they looked.
He blustered up to the bar and waved you over. You groaned.
“A martini, please. Sh-“
“I swear, if you say the Bond line I will kick your ass myself.” You made him the drink quickly, eyeing everybody that was eyeing him. He paid for it then and left a great tip. “Honey, that’s sweet and all, but you really don’t belong here.”
He nodded and took a sip. “I agree this is not my typical drinking destination. But I’m looking for someone.” The bar instantly went silent. The man continued on like nothing had changed. “He’s about six-two, balding, has a four-leaf clover tattoo cut through by a scar on his left shoulder, is wearing a bright blue shirt, and has a really bewildered look on his face right now.”
A man fitting that description stood at a back-corner booth. “Who’s lookin’ for ‘im?” He was a local gangster known for sneaking ammunition in and out of the city. Cináed by name.
The rookie didn’t look back. “Oh, a few people. But just me at the moment.” He finished his drink and swiveled around on his bar stool. “I was wondering if we could talk.” He reclined against the bar as Cináed’s men left their table and formed a circle around him.
“One more time,” Cináed growled, “who’s askin’?” His hand reached under his coat. “Everybody out!” He made eye contact with you. “Sorry, miss.” He pulled out a wallet and dropped a large fold of cash on the counter. “For your missed tips. This is your place, so you can stay and keep an eye on it. We’ll try not to get it too messy.”
You swallowed. “I’d appreciate that.” The last of the patrons filed out. You left the bar and went around collecting glasses. You cleaned them at the far end of the bar, straining your ears to hear what they were saying.
“I just want to talk. I heard about a little somethin’ you did on thirteenth street. Wanted to meet the mastermind.” He sighed and put his hands up as a goon patted him down. He bit down on his lip when the goon fumbled with the bottom of his shirt. “I can explain-“
“Officer Richard Grayson.”
Several guns clicked and cocked into place. Cináed pointed his ready piece at the officer’s head.
“What did you want to know, officer? ‘Cause you’re talkin’ to the wrong guy.”
“Am I? My apologies.” Grayson tried to stand up but was forced back down. “It was beautifully done. I thought perhaps it was your brother, but we found one of your prints at the scene. Unless he’s framing you.” He leaned back further as Cináed pushed his gun into his forehead.
“Is that so?”
“Boys,” you called out. “Don’t make a mess in my bar.”
Cináed nodded and stepped back. “My apologies, miss. Listen, Officer, even if my sweet kid brother was tryin’ to frame me… there wouldn’t be evidence. Try Okada. He keeps encroaching on my turf with his sales. If I’m out of the way, he gets twenty square blocks. Got it?”
Grayson nodded. “That’s what I needed to hear.” He licked his lips and looked around. “Do I get to pass this along to my superiors?”
The boss shared a look with the man to his right. He jutted his chin and the men started to leave, paying for their drinks on the way out. Cináed was the last out. “Get home safe, miss.” The bell over the door chimed on his way out.
The officer drew his hand across his face. He turned around to you. “Can I get a-“
“We’re closed.”
When you got home, your boyfriend was waiting for you.
“Did you really have to be so dramatic?” You dropped your purse and escaped your shoes. “And what’s with the tattoos? They look terrible.”
Dick was laying on the couch shirtless. He smiled brightly. “Welcome home to you too. I got what I needed.”
“Mmm. And you almost got shot for the trouble.”
You avoided his grasp on the way to the bedroom. He groaned and chased after you. He didn’t catch you until it was just the two of you and your skivvies. You helped make it even by pushing down his sweatpants. When he leaned in to kiss you, all he got was air.
“I’m mad at you. You almost got yourself killed.” You stopped him from saying more with a kiss of your own. “I could have lost you. Right in front of my eyes.” You covered up his excuses with more desperate kisses. He hissed as you dug your nails down his back. He was there. You could feel him. He was okay.
Dick pulled you down to sit in his lap on the bed. “Hey. I’m okay.” He nuzzled into your neck. “I won’t promise anything because I can’t, but nothing is going to happen to me. Or you. Okay?” He pulled you ask close as he could. “I’m here. Safe.”
You leaned back with a chuckle. “Safe? Honey, you are stuck in this room with me. A very scared and horny me.” You licked your lips as he tilted his head.
“Did… did me staring down that guy turn you on?”
“A bit. Yeah.” You straddled his hips.
It was a lovely night, though you made sure he understood that if he almost blew your cover again, there would be serious consequences. Drowsily you played with the ink across his chest.
“You gotta get rid of the tats, babe. They are so fake.”
“What, you don’t like them? I even got one inspired by you.” Dick turned onto his stomach so you could see the rose between his shoulder blades.
“Fine. If you do ever go for it, you can get something like that.” You laughed when he tried to crawl back over top of you. “Nuh-uh. We’re closed.” You pushed him off and curled your back into his chest. It wouldn’t be long before circling your hips would inspire him to convince you to stay open.
Y/N, known to the world as Starhawk, and Nightwing help save the live of a pathologist. Life is going well and her niece is visiting, but finding the truth of who hired the assassin leads to some frightening developments.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: some fluff, heck of a lot of angst, deadly influenza threat, violence, blood, needles
Word Count: 3900 (longer than usual, more to say this time)
Note: Oh my God, you guys are going to hate me. Besides the obvious, please let me know what you think about the fic. Requests open. Tag lists open.
Blair Bones shoved the second magazine into his gun. The lab was covered in broken glass and leaking chemicals. He avoided bumping into anything as he stepped closer to his target. The scientist was huddled in the last available corner.
“I’ll give you anything you want,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.
“But you don’t have anything I want.” Bones cocked the gun.
“Then why are you doing this?”
Bones smirked. Always that question. “Because someone wants you out of the way.”
Nightwing smirked as the last set of handcuffs clicked into place. The would-be robbers were barely conscious. One was snoring.
“Is that the last of them?” You rightened the last file cabinet and straightened the pencils on the desk. The scientist who belonged to the office had called you several days ago about a possible break-in. And that another might occur. Which it did, but this time you and Nightwing were ready.
“Yes.” Nightwing signaled on his com, “Robin, order ready for pick-up.”
“Cops there in two. See you when you’re done.” Tim left the coms.
You leaned against the wall. “Two minutes. Topic or front door delivery?” Nightwing shook his head back and forth considering.
“As much as I would like to shoot the breeze, why don’t we-“ Both of you froze as gunfire filled the air. “Speaking of shooting… you guys, don’t go anywhere.” The robbers groaned. Nightwing lead the way towards the source of the shots. He slid along the tiles into a lab, you close on his heels. It was nearly completely demolished. A broad-shouldered person had their back to you, while a smaller man huddled on the floor, pleading for his life.
The huddled man attempted to squeeze himself further into the corner. “Please, don’t!”
Nightwing drew his batons. “Hey!”
The broad-shouldered man turned, and you instantly recognized Blair Bones. Gun for hire at a cheaper rate than his skills were worth, you’d never seen him in person before. Nightwing leapt into action, engaging Bones. You ran to the scientist’s side; he was shivering, and his eyes were beginning to glaze over. Staring death in the face usually had that effect on people. You hauled him to his feet, forcing him to hurry as the sparring between Blair and Nightwing escalated. Glass shattered over your head as Bones’ attempt to shoot your partner was redirected in the scuffle. The scientist stumbled, falling behind a table. Out of the way. Safe.
You joined the scuffle, giving Nightwing time to take a breather. In the haste to get away once he realized he was outnumbered, Bones stumbled back into a window weakened by earlier gunfire. You tried to grab his vest to keep him from falling, but he fell with a cry. Nightwing rushed to your side. Below, Bones rolled to a stop. Your goggles zoomed in on a flash-drive drive that fell out of his pocket. The assassin was more focused on getting away than the evidence he left behind and ran off into the night without it. A few seconds later, blue flashing lights rounded the corner and Gotham’s best swarmed into the building to collect the earlier sting.
“Are you alright,” you asked, turning to the scientist. He nodded, shivering. Nightwing helped him to his feet. “Can you tell us why you think you were targeted?”
“I am Doctor Daniel Havran, and I’m one of the pathologists here. I’ve been developing a cure for an H6N1 influenza virus.”
While Dr. Havran continued his story, you went back to the window and shot one of your smaller grappling hooks. Soon you had the dropped flash-drive in your pocket.
Dr. Havran accepted the fire blanket Nightwing used to combat his shock. “A few weeks ago I started to receive threats to stop my work. Such threats are pretty usual for this line of work, so I thought nothing of it. Until now.” He leaned against a lab table. You and Nightwing shared a look. If the threats had been going on for a while, then the threatener had plenty of time to hire Blair Bones. And plenty of time to plan an alternate if Bones couldn’t finish the job.
Nightwing gently took the scientist’s arm. “We can have you in a safe house in five minutes. Right this way.”
Later in the Batcave, you had started to rummage through the files on the disk.
“Bones wasn’t searching for one specific thing, or he didn’t have time. Pretty much the whole office is on here.” You gestured at the screen. “Schedules, RNA strands, a list of everyone’s favorite snack. If he was there to kill Dr. Havran, why take all this too?” Dick, fresh out of uniform, stood behind your chair and rubbed his hands down your back. “And I keep seeing files for the H6N1 virus, but another one stored under that called ‘Thunderbird.’ But that’s encrypted.”
“You can worry about that one tomorrow. Right now you have a visitor about to come through the front doors.”
You were off like a shot, shedding the last of your uniform as you went. By the time you caught up with Alfred in the atrium, you looked like any other young woman your age lounging in your home. You caught your breath and waited for the doorbell. Alfred smiled at you and opened both doors as dramatically as possible to let in a little girl no taller than three feet.
“Auntie Y/N!” She ran straight into your arms, squealing as you lifted her into the air and spun her around. “This place is so big! Do you really live here? Why is the driveway so long, and how come you don’t have a mailbox? I’ve missed you much!”
“And I’ve missed you too, Wiggle Bug.” You put her down and kneeled beside her, looking up at Alfred. “Isi, this is Alfred. If you can’t find me, he’s available for all questions and raids of ice cream.” She gave him an adorable tiny wave. “Alfred, this is my niece, Isi.”
Ne kneeled down to your level and took her small hand in his for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Miss Isi. Do you have a favorite flavor?”
Isi curled into your shoulder, suddenly shy. “Strawberry. Please.” She looked up at you.
“It’s a little late for it tonight, but…”
“Perhaps at lunch?” Alfred finished. When Isi smiled in agreement, Alfred nodded and lifted her luggage to take to her room.
She met the family next. She took to Bruce the most. How could she not? He was like a giant teddy bear around children. Tim promised to show her the best hiding places in the mansion, and Jason let her see his tattoos. She seemed to like one of the black and white ones the best, asking if she could color it in for him with markers one day. Damian helped her disappear in order to show her his new kittens for a few minutes while you filled Bruce in on the night’s events.
“Keep looking through the files. See if there is anything in an earlier, more personal folder about who might have hired him.” He nodded at Dick, who walked in on the end of the conversation, then left for the cave to start his shift.
Isi came bouncing back into the den, just in time to see Dick kiss the back of your neck. “Is he your lover, Auntie Y/N?”
Dick chuckled and buried his head into your hair. “Am I your lover, Y/N?”
“He is my boyfriend, yes. Where did you get ‘lover’ from?”
She crawled up onto the couch to fiddle with a tassel on a pillow. “Mom’s neighbors call each other that. Do you guys hug a lot too?”
“It’s getting kind of late, so let’s show you your room.” You sat Isi on your hip, who drowsily rested her head on your shoulder. You walked by Dick and rolled your eyes. The questions of a child.
While you pulled down her covers, Isi finished brushing her teeth. On her way out of the bathroom, the door closed faster than she was expecting, catching her fingers. You rushed to her side as she began to cry. She quieted down to whimpers as you blew cold air across the injured fingers. You sat her on the bed.
“I’m sorry that big door got you, sweetie.” You wiped away her tears and kissed across her knuckles. “Are you going to be okay?” She muttered something close enough to a yes. The pain must have receded a bit if she could rub her eyes with her injured hand.
“I’d be better if I could have some ice cream.”
If she wasn’t your niece she could have been your child.
“Tomorrow for lunch. I promise. Now,” you kissed her forehead and eased her back into the pillows, “it is time for you to go to sleep. Sweet dreams, Isi.”
Isi yawned. “Sweet dreams, Auntie.” She was asleep before you left the room.
Dick brought you a cup of coffee the next morning as you continued pouring over the flash-drive. “How’s it going?”
“Bruce was right. It was called ‘music money,’ but I found the list of clients. He had a few targets to go after, but Dr. Havran was supposed to be the easy one. I’ve already alerted the other targets and gotten them some protection. Oh, and” you took a sip of the coffee, humming at it’s perfection, “I talked to Havran this morning. Took me ten minutes to get off the phone for all of his appreciation.”
Dick chuckled. “He did almost die.”
“Yeah.” You scrunched up your nose in thought. “But this other virus… Thunderbird… it’s super encrypted.” You continued observing the client list, smiling when you found what you were looking for. “And look at this.” You leaned back so Dick could read the screen.
“Falcone? Seriously?” Dick opened the recording of the video agreement. Seems Bones liked keeping good records in case someone wanted to backpedal on their contract. Dick whistled. If Falcone found out that Bones had a taped hit order of his, there wouldn’t even be bones left of him. “But why a pathologist? That doesn’t sound like him.”
You nodded your head in agreement. “Let’s go and ask him. Tonight.”
The rest of the day was consumed by entertaining Isi. There was indeed ice cream at lunch, and after a private and quiet tour of Wayne Tower, there was a pizza dinner in Bruce’s office. By the time you made it back to the manor, Isi was exhausted. She also complained about her stomach hurting. You figured that last slice was too much for her small stomach. Alfred carried her to bed so you and Dick could get ready for the night’s mission.
For all of Carmine Falcone’s mob boss bravado, it was laughably easy to sneak into his office. There was one tripped signal on the way in, but you made sure the camera only saw a stray cat. You and Nightwing waited in the shadows for only a few minutes before you heard voices approaching.
“I do not want to be disturbed,” Falcone said, pushing the double doors open. “And if that buffoon Bones shows up at our door, shoot him.” He slammed the doors shut and eventually collapsed into his desk chair. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyebrows to his temples. “I know you’re in here. You’ve used the cat before.”
“Damn,” you partner grumbled under his breath. He tapped your shoulder and followed you out into the dim light provided by the desk lamp.
“Why did you hire Blair Bones?” There was no use making small talk, so you cut to the chase.
Falcone shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I’d been paying that little lab weasel to create a new virus and antidote. I take it you’ve met?” He nodded as you both remained silent. “He became… erratic. Kept talking about a New Gotham. A new start. Originally, I was in it for the money, and for once didn’t want to kill anybody. He told me he’d found an influenza strain that was weak enough to do what I wanted: create a panic for a cure without wiping out all of my future customers.”
“That sounds a little out of the box for you, Falcone,” Nightwing said.
Falcone got up and took a small case from his bookshelf. “Agreed. But I have learned my lesson. I’ve come to believe there are more psychos in lab coats than in Arkham.” He opened the case where you could see there wasn’t a gun. Instead, there were rows of pills. He picked one, rubbing it between his fingers.
“Wait-“
Falcone swallowed the pill. For a few seconds, none of you moved. You were confused when Falcone gave a sigh of relief.
“Havran told me he had another virus. Thunderbird. Lethal and quickly spreading. I made sure he had an antidote as a stipulation for the funding. These are a few of the test trials, good for emergencies but not for duplication. Also,” Falcone sighed, “Thunderbird was going to be most dangerous to the elderly and to children.”
“A new start,” you whispered.
“Yes. The weasel infected himself the night Bones showed up. The goal was to kill him before then, though after would have worked too. Unfortunately, Bones failed in both. Because of you two.”
Nightwing stepped closer to Falcone. “How long until he is infectious?”
“You two are probably already infected. Carriers of Thunderbird.”
You swallowed hard and grabbed Nightwing’s shoulder. Children. Lethal.
Isi.
Nightwing nodded and called the safehouse from coms. Falcone shook his head when nobody answered. You walked further away and called the manor. Alfred’s words froze your blood.
“You need to get here. Now.”
You left Nightwing to deal with Falcone, racing home.
Isi’s labored breathing stopped you in your tracks. You leaned heavily against the doorframe and did your best not to cry.
“Auntie?” she rasped.
“I’m here, sweetie. I’m here.” You forced yourself to walk on solid feet to her bedside. All the way home you had replayed the incident with the smashed fingers last night. Wiping away her tears. Blowing on her fingers, which she used to rub her eyes. You fell to your knees and took Isi’s hand.
You had infected your niece with Thunderbird.
“How’s my wiggle bug feeling?” You could be strong. You could be there for her. You could fix this.
Alfred tucked in the comforter around her on the other side of the bed. “Fever. Chest pains. She was a little confused when she woke up as to where she was, but we’ve got that sorted out now.” He gave you a small smile and left you too alone.
“Alfred won’t let Damian bring me any kittens,” Isi pouted. She gave your hand a weak squeeze and let out a shuddered breath.
You tried to smile. “You don’t want to get him or the kittens sick, do you?” Isi shook her head no and closed her eyes. You placed your hand on her forehead, terrified when it was so warm. You could fix this. Isi was going to be okay. You can do this. Your ignored tears sank to make your chest hurt. As quietly as you could, you left the room. Alfred was waiting outside.
He spoke before you could get a chance. “She’s stable. And I will call you with any change.” He patted your shoulder and sent you on your way to come up with a plan.
Batman gave his blessing to you and Nightwing to finish the case. He stayed in the cave with some of your infected blood and a list of everyone either your or Nightwing came into contact with. If all else failed, perhaps he would be able to make a few calls and come up with an antidote.
The safehouse was empty and cold. That wasn’t unusual from the outside, but inside? Inside was… terrifying.
Nightwing had sent for someone earlier to check on the guard. He was alright but was being held in quarantine. The atrium showed the struggle from where Dr, Havram attacked him after inviting him in for coffee. There was glass from a shattered vase, a tangled rug that tripped the guard, and an empty injector gun. You audibly gasped at the sight of the kitchen. Crystalline glasses and hot plates had been transformed into make-shift chemical equipment. Papers obliterated with writing covered every other available surface. Where Dr. Havran had run out of paper, more formulas and ramblings were written on the walls.
“Here,” Nightwing said, pointing out a line of text. It was written in larger letters and seemed to be burned into the wall. “With death comes rebirth.” Nightwing grit his teeth. “I am really starting to not like this guy.”
In one notebook you found addresses of other labs scattered between other ramblings. The whole notebook was written backward to only be read while standing in front of a mirror, like Da Vinci’s notes. But that’s what the high-tech goggles were for. With a quick check on a map of Gotham, you found the one that was closest to the safehouse location. It was dying apartment complex across the road from a school that taught almost all of Gotham’s underprivileged children.
Your body vibrated, your nerves hovering between checking every nook and cranny for anything about how to save Isi and rushing to the lab to take from the source. The stay was only a few minutes, though it felt longer. You were glad to be off when the apartment complex came into view. A man sleeping by the stairs said that a ‘crazy dude in a white coat’ had kicked everybody out a month ago by claiming the building was condemned. Technically it was, but the ‘imminent threat’ of collapse seemed to convince everybody this time around. The man even knew what floor he was on.
Once inside the building, it was not difficult to find the spare lab. Dr. Havran had taken over what had been a promising renovation for a community study hall. Most of the 80’s computers had been thrown into the hallway, their broken screens illuminated by the harsh lights freed from their lampshades. The desks had been pushed together to similarly resemble the kitchen at the safehouse.
In the center of it all, Dr. Havran was peering through a glove-case finalizing a vial. While the exterior was being disinfected by a small motor mist, he freed himself of the gloves and stepped back with a chuckle.
“So Falcone tipped you off that I’m unstable? You wouldn’t have been here for another few hours at the earliest if he hadn’t.” He unlatched the side of the case for the vial. Swinging it back and forth, threatening to drop it, he tutted at your attempts to rush him. “I wouldn’t if I were you. This is the only collection of a viable antidote. If I drop it, it won’t survive outside of the glass. You’ll need an injector gun, much like this one. Oops.” Dr. Havran held up the tool with a grin, then smashed it onto the floor. The delicate muzzle shattered on impact.
A shiver of anger crawled up your spine. There had to be another way to use the antidote. You had to keep him talking.
“Then what?” you asked. “You infect the school. The children take it home to their parents who take it to their coworkers who take it home to their children.” Stepping around a table, you moved slowly towards him. “You wipe out a generation, all for nothing.”
“No, not for nothing,” he cooed. “Like mushrooms from dead trees or fresh fields from volcano ash, with death comes rebirth. Gotham will be an example to other cities that it must care for its children more than they are doing now. Make new laws, cast old ones out. Gotham will be the epicenter of rebirth.”
You growled, “innocent children. Did you lose someone? A son or daughter, or a niece or nephew?”
Dr. Havran shook his head in confusion. “Why do I need to be connected with the persecuted to see the need? To help them?”
It was twisted. You had heard enough. And had distracted him enough for Nightwing to circle behind him. He grabbed the vial and sent the scientist to his knees with a flick of his baton. Nightwing placed the vial in the belt clip-on made exclusively for vials to keep them from breaking. He turned to rush back to the manor, but Dr. Havran grabbed his ankle. Nightwing cried out as he fell and found himself under the doctor’s mad attack.
Rushing forward, you kicked Dr. Havran’s claw-like hands away and descended on him yourself. He reached back under the desk and pointed the found gun at your face. You rolled away barely evading the bullets that impeded themselves in the furniture around you. When you fell out of sight, Dr. Havran turned his attention back to Nightwing, shooting at him too.
For a scientist with terrible aim, he had both of you pinned down pretty well.
“How desperate are you for the cure, Starhawk? Nightwing? Who did I infect through you? A son or daughter? A niece?”
Your rage boiled over. With a scream that revealed that he had hit his mark, you flipped over the cabinet covering you. Arms outstretched and hands ready to claw out his throat, your anger blurred your vision too much to see the handful of long-needled syringes aimed at your chest. You gasped as the needles pierced through your suit and snapped off from their shafts. They stuck out of your chest like darts in a bar.
Dr. Havran took your pause of shock to break away. He almost made it to the door when Nightwing’s grappling rope wrapped around his ankles. Nightwing was on him in a second, handcuffing his wrists tightly. He broke a glass pill filled with sleeping smoke under his nose ensuring that he would asleep long enough to transport him to Arkham.
“Havran secured, Batman. Send in the blues and we’ll be home soon.” He rounded the corner with that smile he always wore when a crisis was averted. It fell away when he saw the needles. “No, no, no, no. Hang on.” He moved to kneel by you, but you waved him off.
“Isi. Get to Isi.” One or more must have pierced deep enough to your lungs because each breath felt like you were being stabbed over and over again. “Please. Isi.” You pleaded with your eyes, not trusting your voice not to betray the pain you were in.
He nodded. With one more glance to the blood seeping over your suit, he ran out of the building. Over the coms, you heard him tell Batman he was on his way. Faintly you heard Batman promising to meet him halfway to take the antidote to Isi. Then Nightwing could come back to you.
The windows reflected with flashing blue. The icy hot in your chest seeped further into your torso.
Isi was going to be okay. She was going to get the antidote. Isi was going to live.
Dick’s voice called you out of the sleep threatening to overtake you.
“I’m coming, Y/N. I can save you. We can fix this. You’re going to be okay. You can do this.”
Note: I tried to give blood the other day and it did not go well. The circumstances are a little different in the fic, but here’s hoping it connects with a few of you. Please let me know if it did, or if you have your own donation stories. All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Please enjoy!
(Credit to here; I couldn’t find a better gif elsewhere. Thank you!)
A harsh white light filled your sight as you blinked. Blurry figures flittered in and out of your vision, slowly congealing into nurses as they moved around other participants. One figure hovered closer than the others. They were saying something but hearing and understanding took a few more seconds.
“Y/N? Wake up, please. Can you hear me? Y/N?” Dick’s face came into focus and you smiled. He was in his police uniform.
“Hey, baby. What are you doing here?” You tried to lift your hands to cup his face, but it hurt too much to lift your left arm.
Dick glanced down at your arm and kept you from moving it. “One of the guys on duty recognized you and called me on dispatch when you passed out. What are you doing here?”
“Giving blood.” Oh yeah. Lightheadedness and then darkness. “Or trying too.”
As the nurse began to check the wrap on your arm, you made the mistake of looking down. Your vision swam again seeing the quick bruising around the needle site. Dick turned your face back to look at him. His eyes glinted with a flash of panic.
“No. Breath with me.” He led you through a breathing exercise, distracting you from… everything. By the time the nurse pulled your billowy sleeve down to cover the site you were both calmer.
“You’re good to go,” she said. “We got almost a full pint, so we should still be able to use it. Thank you for trying.” She handed you an ice-cold apple juice and spoke to Dick. “Give her a few minutes before letting her up. She’s probably going to be unstable for a hot second.”
Dick shook his head as the nurse went to help another donator. “I thought you weren’t going to try again?”
“But I want to help!” You wriggled to sit up a bit, then realized how leaned back they had you. “The last time was only bad because I tried it with my right arm last time. It was too thin and…”
“And the needle went through your vein. And you were bruised for over two weeks. And you have passed out or nearly passed out every time you’ve given, if you were even successful.” He sighed and rested his forehead on yours. “I don’t want you to keep risking your health.”
You snorted. “Like you don’t do that every day wearing either of your blue uniforms. Dick, I may not be able to fight the bad guys like you do, but I can give blood every once in a while. What’s a quick nap if I can help someone?” You studied his face. “Why does this scare you so much? You know I am safe here. It’s not Gotham.”
“I know, it’s just…” Dick looked around the room. “When you pass out, there’s nothing I can do to help you. You have to wake up on your own, and that scares me.” He gave your right hand a short tight squeeze. “I can’t save you.”
He looked guilty. Like it was his fault that your body was so adamant about not giving. Like it was his fault that you hadn’t told him you were going to try again. You felt guilty for not telling him.
“How about this?” You gathered your thoughts as Dick watched you intently. “You don’t like it, but I’m just as stubborn as you are so I’m going to keep trying. But I’ll tell you next time. We’ll make a day of it. You can take me to lunch, stay with me and hold my hand during the donation, and then take care of me afterward. You can save me by making sure my system is ready.” You bit your bottom lip when Dick didn’t react at first. “Thoughts? Worries? Suggestions?”
Dick’s temples flexed as he clenched his jaw. “You’re right. I don’t like it.”
“Richard,”
“And you’re right again. You are stubborn enough to keep trying.” He thought for a few more seconds. “I understand why you want to give. And I’m glad you see my side of things.” Again he paused. You fought against holding your breath. “I’ll ask off on days you want to donate, but I would like to keep it closer to four months between donations instead of the usual two allowed.”
“So you miss less work. I can agree to that.” You smiled. Dick did too.
“Cool. I would also like to take you to a doctor to see if we can do something different so you don’t pass out.” Dick looked away and mumbled under his breath, “and if they tell you not to give, all the better. Less stress all around.”
“I heard that,” you said at the same whisper level. You giggled. “If we are in agreement… where are you taking me for lunch?”
He laughed. “How about the Mediterranean place on Fourth? They have a great lentil soup with spinach. The best iron foods in one place for a hero.”
“Sounds good.” You leaned into his touch and he ran his thumb across your cheek. “Thank you for listening to me.”
“Back at you. Now let’s see how many packages of Oreos we can get away with before they run us out of the joint.”
Valentine’s fluff between Dick Grayson and the Reader.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader, appearances by Jason, Cass, Tim
Warnings: food mention, fire hazard, language, implied smut
Word Count: ~650
Note: Just a quick fic. I figured there would be plenty of smut out there, so I’m trying to write fluff this time. Leave a comment, like, and reblog to let me know how I did. Get ready for butterflies.
Part 1: Mistlefoe Part 2 : A Glitering Celebration
As much as you loved the game, today was not the day that you wanted to play hide-and-seek. With your ankle now healed, Dick could hide anywhere in the city. You’d found him twice already, only to see him jump across another rooftop with his laugh to hide someplace else.
Bruce messaged you that it was Tim’s turn to patrol. You gratefully sighed and hoped on the bike before speeding back to the manor.
A Nightly Affair: (S) Nightwing keeps mistaking your apartment for his and you two grow very close. Very. Close. So close as to put you in danger, unless Nightwing can find you first. [Series Masterlist]
The Kissing Thief: (S) Y/N gets fed up with Dick Grayson hiding mistletoe all over the manor, and suggests an alternate activity. The ‘alternate activity’ continues all year. No plot, just smut and fluff. [Series Masterlist]
Dick gets his hands on a marshmallow gun… but he forgets about your nerf gun stash. Shenanigans occur.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: Fluff, nerf guns, tickling, hickeys, slight language
Word Count: 770
Note: I’ve had this fic started for over two months but could never seem to find the rest of it. I think I finally got it. If you agree (or disagree) please let me know with comments, likes, and reblogs. My requests and tag lists are open. Have a happy new year and please enjoy this fluffy fic!
“Hey, Y/N, heads up!”
You turned just in time for something small and soft to hit you in the nose. You picked up a marshmallow from your lap and held it up at Dick.
“Did you just shoot me with a marshmallow? Don’t waste them, that’s why we have nerf guns.”
“Oh, yeah. But the bullets get everywhere and take forever to clean up!”
“So do marshmallows because you are a terrible shot!”
“Am not.”
“You hit me in the nose. My. Nose. Not my lips. My nose.”
For a split second, you stared each other down. Dick cursed as you leapt off the couch and ran towards the hall closet.
Tim could hear you squeal as Dick caught up with you, then the shout “hey!” after a soft ‘pop.’ He couldn’t help but laugh as bullets came raining out of the hallway before either of you tumbled back into the living room. He made a hasty exit as the living room became a war zone.
“You are going to lose, flyboy!” You shot a volley of nerf from one end of the couch, then rolled quickly to the other side. As suspected, Dick came running around that corner. He stumbled back dramatically as you shot him multiple times in the chest.
“Bird down! Bird down!” He collapsed and let his tongue hang out of his mouth. You were impressed how he didn’t blink.
You ran to him just as dramatically and cradled him in your arms. “So young. So much potential. The world will miss him, and he shall be avenged.”
Dick sat up and cocked his eyebrow. “By my killer?”
“Shut up,” you said, pushing him back down. “You’re dead. Let me have my moment.” You couldn’t help but giggle as he fell limp in your arms again. “What will the world do without him?” You leaned down to give his forehead a kiss but backed off at the last second. Dick blinked in surprise and was about to ask why when you shot him in the forehead with your last bullet. It stuck out comically like a unicorn horn.
“What was that for?” Dick flicked the bullet off.
“I had to make sure you wouldn’t come back as a zombie.” With a smirk, you booped him on the nose.
Dick’s smile spread into a mischievous grin. “Didn’t you ever learn you’re supposed to take two shots?” He rose dramatically into a sitting position. “Always double tap.”
When you realized he wasn’t going to stay down, you raised your nerf gun and fired at his head again. But nothing happened. The last bullet had already been flicked away. Dick did his best impersonation of a zombie growl and crouched on all fours to be eye to eye with you. You scrambled backward until you could get to your feet. You only made it as far as the next couch before he tackled you and pinned you beneath him.
“You won’t be able to turn me,” you laughed. “I’m wearing zombie-proof armor. The undead will never be able to turn me.”
“Well, then, we shall just have to take it off while my undead fingers still have dexterity.” Before you could argue his ability to speak, Dick homed in on your tickle points. He jumped rapidly between each one, never giving you time to catch your breath. Within a few minutes, your sides hurt from laughing and contorting yourself in an effort to get away. Your squeals of surprise had turned into shrieks of desperation. Dick continued his onslaught until he had removed the invisible layer of armor. With a dramatic growl of triumph, he lightly bit down on your neck and sucked.
“I thought you were a zombie, not a vampire?”
“When I get done giving you this hickey,” he said between sucks, “it’s going to look like a zombie bite.” He laughed against your skin as you cried out a feeble ‘no.’ He sat back on the couch and gave you a stratified nod.
“Dick Grayson, if this bruises and I can’t wear my intended dress to Bruce’s social party tonight, you are going to be very put off.”
“Why would I-“
“It’s the red one.”
“Dammit.” Dick ran his hands over his eyes. He looked again at your neck. “It’s not going to bruise. An ice pack should do the trick by tonight.” He leapt off the couch and ran to the kitchen.
By the time he got back, you had reloaded your nerf artillery. With your victory you gave him a matching mark, and the suggestion that he should shoot you with marshmallows more often.
Dick tries to give you a restful Thanksgiving for once, but his plans go a bit awry.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: none (unless you count Thanksgiving stress)
Word Count: 730
Note: I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t bake to save my life. Thankfully, I’ve got a certain BatFam member I like to write about. Please let me know if you like the fic, if you can’t cook either, or if you’ve got an emergency recipe that works in a pinch. Likes, reblogs, and especially comments are always amazing. Hope you guys have a wonderful holiday, and I hope you enjoy the fic!
Frantic beeping from your oven set your nerve on edge. You grumbled on your way to the kitchen, complaining about this most recent attempt of your grandmother’s blackberry pie.
Then you could smell smoke.
“Oh no,” you muttered, then set off into a run.
When you reached the kitchen, Alfred was already turning off the oven and readying the fire extinguisher. You could see the flames curling around on the edges of the crust. Dick and Jason came around the corner as you let Alfred put out the flames.
“I’m sorry, miss Y/N. Would you like me to purchase more ingredients?”
“No thank you, Alfred. I’ll try again at Christmas. Or not ‘till next year.”
Jason pulled a knife from his jacket and cut back the charred crust. He stabbed a few blackberries and blew on them until they were cool. “How many does that make?”
“Two this season, five since moving in, and… I’ve lost count of the total.” You sighed and nodded at Jason. “Does the middle at least taste okay?”
He tentatively ate the top blackberry on his knife and chewed it deep in thought. “Yeah, it’s okay. Would be better with ice cream though.” He jumped as Alfred placed a bowl of vanilla in front of him.
“Knock yourself out,” you said with a chuckle. Dick followed you as you left Jason and Alfred with the carcass of the pie. You didn’t get far before he caught your hand and pulled you in a different direction.
“How would you like to have a Thanksgiving off?”
“What?” You shook your head. “You know there’s going to be trouble. Harvey Dent had people flip their own coins to see if he would boil them in oil with the family turkey. Bruce is never…”
“We actually have a mission. So… it won’t be a complete night off… but you won’t have to worry about-“
“Cooking. Or burning anything.” You wriggled out of his grasp and started walking toward your room. He kept you from opening the door.
“That, and patrolling in the cold. Or having to team up with Damien. Or any of the other issues that usually come up with this part of the year. Charming, rich boy Dick Grayson is supposed to be making a public appearance… alone. But I was hoping you would care to join me?”
You bit your lip to keep from grinning. An evening out with Dick did sound better. “Do we have to dress up?”
“Yes. But as you are already stunning, you won’t have much more to do except find a dress.”
You kissed his cheek. “Flattery will get you everywhere. It’s a date.”
That night you got to “relax” at the Sundial, the spinning five-star restaurant in the heart of Gotham that also just so happened to possibly be the target of a Poison Ivy attack. While you waited for her to show if at all, you feasted on the delights. Well, ‘feasted’ was a five-star word for five bites in a five-course meal. They were good bites, but pitiful all the same.
You kept shooting looks at Dick, expecting him to burst out laughing at any second. Instead, you had to stifle giggle after giggle as his face contorted in displeasure. He finally said something when dessert came: two bites each of some chocolate confection. One of the bites was the garnishing raspberry.
Dick leaned across the table. “I have to admit. Ivy wasn’t planning on attacking. I was just trying to treat you to a night out. But…”
“Is the Waffle House on Main still open?”
“I hope so.”
The Camaro looked a little out of place sitting outside the diner. Inside it looked equally as odd for Dick and you squeezed next to each other in the booth in your best apparel. The wonder-boy eats with his elbows out, by the way. Way out. And intentionally ribbing you when you would go to take a bite.
“You better watch it, or I’m going to make sure Bruce gives you midnight patrol for a week. Hey!” You blocked his fork from your waffle with your own.
“Am I at least forgiven for the snafu of this evening?”
“Yes.” You gave him a syrupy peck on his cheek, making sure to spread it everywhere. You were thankful for him and his attempts to keep you happy, glitches and all.
Sometimes a hero doesn’t have to dodge bullets or round up a gang of thugs. Sometimes a hero is just a good listener.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings: Drinking (alcohol, with minimal control)
Word Count: 800+
Note: I had the Lady Antebellum song stuck in my head, and this came out. It kinda inspired the fic, but it does not make an appearance. Please enjoy and let me know how you like it by commenting, liking, and/or reblogging. My requests and tag lists are open!
Alcohol gif below the cut:
The shot glass clattered and rolled until you were able to catch it and flip it over. Your vision wasn’t blurry yet, but there were still two to go.
A loud voice cut through the din of the crowded bar. “If you weren’t alone, I’d say you were having a party.” A man that you had never seen before in your life sat on the stool next to you. Tall blonde, with a smile too big for his small face. Asshole. “What are we celebrating?”
“Nothing,” you said, shooting back the second glass. “I’m not interested, I’m not going home with you, and you’re not going home with me. Douchebags who hit on women who obviously want to be alone are not my type. So back off.” You swallowed the third glass with a shudder as the man left. He muttered a list of profane nicknames for you till he was distracted by a bachelorette party. You flipped the glasses back over for a refill and waved down the bar. “Hey, bartender. Another trio, please.”
He hesitated with a worried look. “Do you want to try a stiffer drink? Something you can take slow?”
“I don’t want slow. Slow is not the way of the world, so I’ve finally learned. Thanks anyway.”
“There’s a story there. Why don’t you tell me?” He looked about as tired as you felt. It seemed he had his own restless night. Often, by the darkness of the shadows under his eyes.
“Why should I tell you? You probably hear a hundred sob stories a shift.”
He chuckled. “I do. But that doesn’t make them any less real or painful to the storyteller. How about we make a deal? I get off in ten. You tell me your story, and I ask my replacement to whip you up the drink you need to lay you out quick. Sound good?” When you hesitated, he added the perfect stipulation to push the deal over. “And the drink will be on the house.”
“Sure. See you in ten.”
He nodded and turned to walk away, but came back in a second. “My name’s Richard by the way. But my friends call me Dick.”
“Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you.”
You watched him work for this next ten minutes like he was a Nascar race. He moved quickly enough for it. He flirted his way up and down the bar with whomever he liked, and quickly served those he didn’t. If someone was being annoying about getting another round, he ignored them. One guy figured it out and waited patiently till Dick got to him. Other drunken deadbeats had to wait until his replacement showed up.
“Let’s sit in the corner booth,” he said after collecting his tips. “It’s quieter and we won’t be disturbed.” He grabbed a pitcher of water and two glasses, then led the way. He sat close enough to hear you, but far enough away to not intrude on your space.
“What about my drink?”
“You need to hydrate first,” he said, pouring you a glass. “Besides, I won’t know what you need till I hear your story.”
He was a good listener. He nodded and hummed in all the right places. His brow would furrow when he was supposed to be angry, and he would mirror your profanities. Other than that, he didn’t say a word as you poured out your life’s story. Maybe it was the booze or the late hour, but you told him things you never dared to say out loud. Even to yourself. Every dream shattered, every crack in your heart, every tearful fear for the future.
You hadn’t realized you were crying until he reached up and smoothed a tear away with his thumb. Next thing you knew, you were running your fingers over his lips, wondering what they would taste like. With a snap, you pulled them back.
“I’m sorry. The shots finally kicked in.”
“It’s alright, Y/N. Do you mind if I call you a cab?”
When it pulled up to the curb, Dick held the door open and waited for you to get in. The alcohol swirling in your blood gave you another kick of courage.
“Do you want to come with?”
Dick blushed. “Not this time. The next time you come in ready to drink away a rough time, we can skip the booze. Right now you need to sleep.”
“Thanks, Dick.” You moved to sit down, bur popped back up. “Hey, I didn’t get that special drink.”
“I’ll hold it on your tab as the Grayson special. I’ll make myself the next time you come in. Bad day or not. I promise.”
That man is a hero. And gorgeous to boot. As the cab pulled away, you saw him continue to watch the cab until it rounded a corner. Yeah. You would be back. After a bartender prescribed sleep.
Our Deepest Desires 