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The Space Witch

Katrina was not from this world. She is the last of her people, the last of her kind. A queen with no kingdom, a ruler...

Hello all this is my first fanfiction based of Young Justice, the cartoon, check it out!

Mushy ~ Nightwing

A/n: So I haven’t written in a while huh? Well let’s not dwell on that that... or the fact that this request came in like centuries ago didkdkdkd

Request: “(a member of the team) and dick are already in a relationship but neither bothered to tell anyone. whenever the two are with the team or (anyone really) they just keep each other company & don't interact much in front of people (both are content with this tho) so the team find out by walking in on them when they're alone at the base and being lovey dovey dorks 💙 (a bet may have been made among a few of the members)” by anon!

Word Count: 2600+

Warnings: Brief violence. Pain. Kinda graphic.

MASTERLIST

Dating was hard. So was being a super hero. Combining the two was a whole other level of ridiculous.

Dick had far too much experience with dating people he worked with. He had never been one to push separating pleasure from business if the opportunity arose, but Y/n always had been. They had watched Dick go through girlfriends one after the other - and it was always ruined by being a superhero. Seeing that Dick wasn’t one to be a player, and ended on good terms in all of those relationships, it was obvious that dating superheroes didn’t work. So when Y/n started to have feelings for him...

Listen having feelings for Richard Grayson was one thing. It was risky on its own. Dick was a great guy but he also had a lot of responsibility and it left little time for a relationship. Which meant that when Dick called Y/n out on their feelings, Y/n made him set immediate rules if they were going to date. He had to treat them like any of the other team - they could take care of themself, it wasn’t his job to take care of them. With that, no PDA. They couldn’t be coupley - it was distracting and if they didn’t end up working out it would mess up the team. Dick, more than willing to go through the relationship and try it out however it needed to go, agreed immediately. He had tried the open and adorable and flirty thing and it had failed, so why not try something new?

It was surprisingly easy. The two had already worked well before, but as they grew to love each other even more and learn more about the other, their trust and understanding grew. They went from functional to exceptional. Any team with both of them would succeed - no matter what. They didn’t have to talk, a simple touch or look and they understood each other. The team tried to communicate as much as possible and with Megan connecting everyone telepathically it wasn’t often needed, but when it was? Everyone was very grateful for the new dynamic duo.

As much as Y/n and Dick were very lowkey and casual, their growing connection went very noticed by everyone around them. It started with their closest friends of course, but very quickly branched out to even those who didn’t know them well. Even without the usual flirting and blushing and flusterness they were used to seeing with in-team dating, they had an undeniable chemistry. An energy, like a chord that tied them together. So thick and present that it was almost tangible.

They always sat and stood close to each other, and even if they never were touchier than with anyone else or didn’t explicitly move to be together, it was odd that they just happened to be side by side. Like they were subconsciously staying close by each other even if there was nothing going on. They came and left together a lot, usually passing it off as being engaged in some kind of conversation or plan. They usually went on patrol together unless they had a specific need for someone else or Dick was taking one of the other Robins for mentor stuff.

They just... clicked. And everyone could tell.

It became very normal for the two to be casual, even though they’d been dating only a few months. They went on dates, and the Batfam all knew they were dating of course - even without talking about it. They still had their domestic and romantic moments as well. They just got used to existing together. That was their love language.

That changed one day when Y/n got hurt.

Dick had been back at the compound. It was a big mission and Y/n had ended up with Tim. The two weren’t as fluid as Y/n and Dick, but they did have a certain flow that Bruce and Dick both thought would be a good influence for Tim. So the duo had set out, and for a while everything had been okay. It was only a recon mission - get intel, get out. They had underestimated security though and Y/n had barely pulled Tim out of the way of an arrow that sunk into a wood wall where Tim’s head had been.

The fight wasn’t too bad. The thugs were slow and awkward. They were used to Tim - this was Gotham after all and Red Robin wasn’t a new player in the game - but they had never seen Y/n before and as they were a super powered individual and not just a well stocked tool belt and incredible amount of smarts, the usual tricks that were used against the Batfam... didn’t work on Y/n.

The problem arose in numbers. There were so many of them, and it was far too soon that the two were outnumbered and back to back as even their combined efforts were not showing any openings to snag an upper hand. Y/n, whose powers were based on the flight their wings gave them, was not having an easy time maneuvering in such a small space as the thugs closed in. And they could have just flown off, but there were snipers on the roof and they couldn’t move fast enough to get out of range while also carrying Tim. They’d have been shot down. Even now it was risky - they were lucky they were in the cover of so many trees.

There was the sound of some kind of gun - not armed with bullets, as it soon became obvious, but anchors that caught Y/n’s wings and yanked. Hard. They dodged several of the things, but it made it even harder to fight while trying to hide their large target wings from such attacks while also fighting the other people. Tim eventually got caught up in the dodging, fighting, and trying to avoid messing up Y/n, and slammed into their back on accident. The space they both had was too small now and Y/n tripped, losing their balance. It left an opening for one of the anchors finally implanted into the side of Y/n’s right wing. All the person had to do was yank and they weren’t only thrown off balance - they were distracted by an incredibly sharp pain that wracked their entire body.

Dick was screaming in Y/n’s ear piece, something about back up coming and being careful and holding in there and- and something else, but Tim and Y/n couldn’t pay attention or respond. Tim was suddenly doubled up on enemies as another anchor hit the bottom of Y/n’s right wing, and then another hit their left finally. They were being yanked, this time in three very different directions. Not only the pain of being pulled like that, but also in near opposite directions - like being pulled in half - set their body on fire.

They were blinded by vision that was going white with agony, a scream ripping from them with every yank. It went from fighting to defending as they simply tried to pry off the anchors and push the other people away from them. But it was too much and another anchor caught them - this time sinking into their arm. Seconds later their opposite leg was caught too, and they couldn’t even move. Dick had gone silent and Tim had taken his place, screaming Y/n’s name. But they had been separated and he had his own problems to deal with.

In the end, backup got there just in time. Y/n had been caught in several places, and was immobile as they got the shit kicked out of them. Garth, M’gann and Zatana showed up in time for the rescue, finishing off the rest of the thugs and scooping Y/n and Tim onto the ship and away from Gotham. They all returned to the cave alive, even as Y/n had been very messed up.

It wasn’t long before Y/n was okay. They had been out of commission for about a week, more for psychological reasons than physical ones. The team had a healer now and Y/n had only let her in, wanting to be alone for a while to go through the course of events in their head and process what had happened. Black Canary had helped, and then they were back and just fine, if a little sensitive wing wise and a little jumpy when it came to missions.

Dick hadn’t seen his partner in a week. They had texted and called, but they had begged him to give them a second because they were having a hard time handling what had happened. Dick had tried to come out of costume and without the team, but things kept coming up - suddenly a week was gone. Y/n understood and soothed his worry and guilt, but it still didn’t change that when they finally were back, Dick was a little protective.

When one of the younger kids asked about it, Dick explained that as team leader he felt very guilty for being partly responsible for the harm that Y/n experienced that night. It was a good excuse, especially as everyone on the team cared very deeply about each other and everyone felt just as upset about Y/n being hurt as Dick did (if maybe a little less, as Dick was their boyfriend). Even as valid as it was, they all knew the truth. They couldn’t imagine what it would be like to watch someone you loved go through that, so everyone gave them as much space as possible.

It was early morning and everyone was either not awake, at school, or at work. Y/n had switched to online school, excusing it as being super sick. They usually bind their wings for public stuff and it was just fine, but with their new sensitivities it had grown from slightly annoying to suffocating and even painful. Not wanting to stay home and worry their parents, they had taken to doing school in the cave. Dick had graduated, so he no longer had school and he didn’t need to work so when he didn’t want to - he didn’t. That meant that even early like it was, Y/n was sat on the couch with their laptop, backpack, and notes out, wings stretch out and resting gently, when Dick entered the cave.

Immediately Y/n rose an eyebrow. “You never come over this early,” they pointed out.

Dick shrugged. “I know you’ve been having a hard time sleeping with your wings, so I gaurentee you slept in and haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”

Usually Y/n wouldn’t hesitate to call him out on such a blatant excuse to be around them, but honestly he was right and they were very happy to see him. On top of that, they hated to be alone and no one else was in the cave so they could be a little coupley without it being a big deal.

“Fine,” they relented. Dick, who had predicted as much, was already starting his work in the kitchen. Y/n didn’t bother him with questions or breakfast cravings - Dick knew their favorites and preferences. Instead they focused on class, headphones in and pen working across their sheet as they took notes along with the lesson. It seemed only minutes later when Dick appeared next to them. He set two plates down, and then left again to return with two glasses of orange juice as well. He set the glasses on the coffee table where he had put the plates before. Then he plopped onto the couch next to them. His arm went around their shoulders, holding then to him rather than just resting like they usually did. There was a desperation to it - almost like he was reassuring himself they were there at all.

Y/n didn’t give him crap for throwing them off balance and almost making them drop their laptop. They just readjusted and curled into his side. On one knee they watched the stream and on the other they balanced the plate they had grabbed. They ate as they watched and Dick watched with them. He snagged an ear bud and they listened together. When Y/n got confused - he could tell because they froze while eating - he would quickly explain it a different way and they’d nod before continuing.

Once they were done eating, Dick gathered the dirty dishes and left the couch. He cleaned it all up before returning with a large blanket. Y/n smiled as he settled next to them again, this time full pulling them almost into his lap. They chuckled, readjusting once again. “You’re being incredibly distracting Richard,” they teased.

Dick smiled softly. “How ever will you cope?”

They looked at him, an eyebrow quirked in an annoyed expression. Unfortunately their blush ruined it, especially as their lips curled into a smile. “I suppose I’ll tolerate you. Just a little.” They both chuckled and then leaned forward, stealing a long, gentle kiss. His hand rose to cup their face, thumb brushing their cheek and jaw over and over again. Comforting. Loving. They sighed into the kiss, melting into him completely.

Finally Y/n pulled away and they cuddled closer, Y/n’s head falling on Dick’s shoulder and their legs draped over his lap. They returned their attention to the class, Dick’s chin resting on top of Y/n’s head. He caught them up on what they’d missed while distracted by him and they laughed breathily. They were practically glowing as he held them. It was an incredible relief to be reunited after such a harrowing experience and time apart. Perhaps it was why they stayed like that even as the first class ended and the second started.

What they notice was that time was passing. They knew it logically, but both were immersed in the class and their own reunion and the relief and comfort and love they both felt - they didn’t even register the ticking of the clock or the rising of the sun, let alone Connor coming into the room to get some breakfast of his own.

Connor stopped in the doorway, surprised to see the couple so... coupley, I guess. There was something so tender and domestic about them cuddling up, chatting about class when Y/n needed it. Connor almost felt like he was walking into a personal bedroom, witnessing a very private and intimate moment. He had never seen them so like this, and his definition of love between them had become standing close and making eye contact while talking. This was a whole new level of precious.

When the shock wore off, a glowing grin took his place. Someone walked up behind him. “What are you-“ the voice that obviously belonged to Raquel cut off with a gasp as she noticed the same scene he had. “Oh my god.”

Connor chuckled. Y/n and Dick looked over just in time for Connor to hold out his palm, and Raquel, speechless, reached into her pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. She placed it in his hand and he smirked before going to make breakfast.

They had made a wager on whether Y/n and Dick were together or not. Interesting.

Dick smiled to himself. “We should do this more often. I like seeing their reactions to us.”

Y/n hummed, nodding. “Okay.” Their answer made Dick soften, and he sunk deeper into the couch like he had gone a little limp.

Raquel shook her head before moving to the kitchen with Connor. Now that she had gotten over her shock she was determined for breakfast as well. She simply looked at Connor and rolled her eyes. “Simp.”

Connor actually snorted in amusement. “You’re surprised?”

That made Raquel giggle. “Fair enough.”

I’ll update my masterlist soon while I’m on my little mini hiatus- only a week and half left of school, I’ll be back soon!!!

(In the meantime please leave request, I love getting them!!!)

-Liv xoxo

I’m taking a (somewhat) short break 🫶🏻

I’ve got about 4 weeks left for my semester at college and my professors are loading me up with work. I would love to write right now, but I’m just trying to not burn out with school work. I hope that you guys can understand.

In the meantime I hope that you guys can load up my requests, that way I can have plenty of stuff for you guys when I return!!! I know I don’t have a lot of followers but you guys mean so much to me so I love you guys 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

See you guys in a bit!

-Liv 🫶🏻

Everyday I laugh over the fact that I write smut while being a virgin. Now I have dabbled into the sorts but still a virgin. I have no clue if the shit I write is realistic- I just know I want it to happen to me but realistically it never will.

Anywho- feeling 100x better hopefully I can write something up for yall and have it posted soon.

Xoxo - Liv <3

Sad right now because I was going to write some stuff this weekend for various characters and ya girl got a cold- heavy on the cold part because I legit can’t stop shivering atm. So apologies if I don’t post much for another week or so.

For now I shall be watching animes, kdramas, and jdramas, and of course reading fanfic.

goodnight my loves 🫶🏻

Xoxo

-Liv

I just wanted to come by and say happy thanksgiving to all of my followers (or if you don’t celebrate thanksgiving happy Thursday!!), I just recently hit 100 followers and I couldn’t be anymore thankful for yall <3. I’ve had this blog for at least 4 or 5 years but only started posting my own fics and blurbs about a year ago. I know I’m not the best writer and I try my best but to those who still read and like and reblog, thank you so much.

More fics coming soon <33.

~ liv

As a woman in America today I feel so defeated

If you have an recommendations for fluff or anything soft, please send them my way that’s all I ask🫶🏻

Tumblr….STOP GIVING ME THE SAME 10 FICS ON MY DASH

Idk if something’s off with my tumblr or what but like I’m just seeing the same stuff that I’ve already liked or reblog over and over in my dashboard and it’s just driving me nuts. And when I go to search manually for stuff I’m seeing the same stuff too or barely any new content.

I just wanna read fanfics bro why you gotta act up now :/

(I’ve tagged a bunch of my interests so if you have recs that you wanna give or tag me that’d be so wonderful my loves🫶🏻)

Pairing: Dick Grayson x nb!reader

Prompts: Neutral prompt 10- "Don't lie to me, I can tell when you do."

Summary: When you find yourself hiding out in the Batcave someone comes to check on you

Warnings: Mentions of death, sad reader, a course word I think, bad writing and not proofread

A/n: very angsty I was sick, I was tired, and I felt like writing so please enjoy this drabble. let me know if I accidentally used any pronouns I didn't mean to :)

Word count: 800 short and sad sweet

Coping

Footsteps came padding softly down the staircase that led from Wayne manor’s sitting room to the dimly lit Batcave. Whoever was coming was light on their feet, almost silent. You had a pretty good idea who it was but you didn’t turn away from the computer screen to check. 

They stopped somewhere behind you and waited a moment before speaking. “You missed dinner.” Of course it was Dick. He must have volunteered to check on you. You didn’t even know it was dinner time. 

“Wasn’t hungry” You lied, typing something into the search bar and flipping through the files that popped up. You didn’t know how long you’d been at this but it’d been a good few hours since you’d spoken and your voice was hoarse. 

Dick started fiddling with some gear on one of the repair tables. “Right, of course.” Clearly, he was trying to seem nonchalant, and clearly, he was failing. “You’ve been down here a while.” 

It was more of a statement than a question but you felt the need to answer. “I’m fine. Just busy.” You took on a slightly defensive tone as you chose one of the files and began reading.

The screen was huge, he could read the page displayed for himself but still, he asked “What’re you working on?”

He was stalling. “There's talk of Scarecrow doing something on New Year's Eve. Bunch of people gathered at the square is a great place to shoot off some fear gas. I need to find him so I'm cross-referencing his last known hideouts.” Everyone was going to start suiting up soon but for now the cave was filled with an eerie quiet.

You still didn’t look up. You let your eyes pass over the screen but you weren’t reading anymore, instead, you were focused on the movement behind you. You felt him walk silently over and lean on the desk just a few inches away from you. He faced the wall behind you and crossed his arms

Dick let another moment pass and you almost looked up at him but held out. It was a game of chicken now, seeing who would look first, who would talk first and bring up the real reason he’d come down here. You both knew.

He lost. “I’m worried about you.” 

“Why?” You asked as innocently as you could. “It’s already happened there’s no point moping about it-”

“Don’t.” He cut you off, keeping his voice soft. “Don’t lie to me,” he looked down. “I can tell when you are. You lost someone in the field and now you're sitting in the dark working on cases for hours.” He crouched next to you trying to catch your eye. “You’re not ok. You need a break.”

You clenched your jaw. It had been 3 days since an innocent person died in your arms. Everyone had told you that you’d done your best and no one could have saved them. You still blamed yourself. “No, I don’t. I let someone die, but it happens. I just need to keep working.”

“Hey look at me.” He turned your chair towards him and you finally met his eyes. The determined sort of concern on his face matched his new tone. “It wasn’t your fault. No one could have stopped it but you have the right to be upset. Acting like everything’s fine and throwing yourself into work isn't going to help.”

“I am fine.”

“You’re a shit liar is what you are.” He threw the soft and sweet approach out the window and settled for the truth. “I know you, and I know you’re gonna sit here and tell me that you don’t care even though you do and that you’re perfectly okay even when you aren’t but you don’t have to.” 

Tears started to collect in your eyes and tried to fight them off. You hated crying. Especially in front of Dick but at this point you didn’t think you could stop it. Then he pulled you into a hug you definitely couldn’t. You let him pull you into his arms and you hugged him back. In the past three days, you hadn’t let yourself feel anything. You’d barely let yourself think about but now you sobbed into Dicks shoulder. 

“I hate feeling like this, if I stop for a second all I can see is her face.” You’d slipped out of the chair and onto the floor next to him. “She died and I couldn't save her.” you leaned back enough to look at him. “How do you do it?”

“It’s part of the job. We can’t save everyone, we can’t keep going forever, not alone.” He cupped your face and wiped a

way the tears on your cheeks. “But you’re not alone. You have me, and I'm pretty great.”

That made you laugh. For a second you just sat there looking at him, and then, you pulled him in and kissed him.

Tag list: @reverieco @starship-argo @littlered-fangirl @the-ink-of-roses @1lellykins @moonknighttime @kaidetrin

Click here to be added Tag list form

last night i was sick so i listened to sad music and wrote 700 hundred word drabble for no reason... set to release at 8 :)

(p.s. reply here if you wanna be tagging. it’s short, it’s sad, i’d say it’s pretty good)

all my current asks are fluffy but i really wanna write some angsty ass shit so if you have any angst idea pls send them to me 🥺 and i’m talking aNgSt like i want to cry while writing

pls and thx

when will love and war part 2 be complete and posted?

i have the most insane writers block for tHe LoNgEsT tImE

i’ve been chipping away at it whenever i get the chance and i plan on finishing it soon but as of right now i’m not sure when that soon will be

i’ve gotten over 2k words so i’m really close and if all goes according to plan it should be out this coming weekend

anyone have any tips on writing a claustrophobic reader? i’ve never done it before and i’d rather not fuck it up

part 2 of love and war please??? 🙏

hi hi!!! i am happy to confirm that a part two for Love and War is in the works

i’ve got some other fics i’m working on rn too so here’s a quick run down of my posting plan

I’ll be posting a fluffy Jason Todd type thingy in a couple days and then i might post a Tim Drake something depending on my mood and how much i’m able to write over the weekend

pt2 will either be before or right after the Tim fic but either way it’ll be soon!

i might do a short prologue type snippet if you guys would be into that

Hi! I would like you to know you are wonderful and appreciated! Hope you have a great day!!

:)

getting these messages literally just makes my heart go 🥰

i appreciate you more anon :)

i’m not gonna stop annoying you, go drink water, take a break and take care ✨🥺

my self care over the past two days📈📈📈

also i’d like to take a second to promote my Wattpad! I’ll be posting all of my work on there so it’s easier to get to specific fics.

My @ is 1-800-fuck-y0u (with a zero instead of an o very poetic right)

My book is titled DC x Reader

and the cover is shown below

DC Comics Masterlist

fluff ~ ☁︎ angst ~ ᜊ favorites ~ ꕤ total stories ~ 10

Dick Grayson

Coping ᜊ

Jason Todd

Sick Days ☁︎

Tim Drake

Old Friends and Broken Trust ᜊ

Late Night In ☁︎

Too Little, Too Late ᜊ

Secrets Spilled ☁︎ ꕤ

Damian Wayne

Love and War (pt 1-2 original) ☁︎ᜊ

Love and War (new and better version) ᜊ☁︎ꕤ

Help Wanted ☁︎

Jon Kent

Not So Super Stealthy ☁︎

Oblivious ☁︎ꕤ

438 words, pining idiots to slightly less idiots. Dick doesn’t know how to tell you, the person he does patrol with, the girl he’s grown from sidekick to solo hero with, that he kind of, actually, loves you. So, when he finally considers the idea of confessing, he’s a nervous wreck, and you become a nervous wreck by extension. >> No names mentioned, just soft nickname variations of 'star'. Open ending (?)?? You tell me how you want it, and I'll continue.

There’s something about how you ground him in fights. Soft tap on his shoulder as you take out a sharpshooter about to take aim. You may be wearing gloves, but it’s still your signature warmth. You know each other better than you know yourselves. So much so, that he knows all your tells and you know his.

He knows of the rare times when you need to fall to your knees and cry. You know when leadership takes its toll on him, weariness hidden behind a facade of confidence and smiles. Tonight's not much different. It's one of those strenuous patrol nights with Dick. You can tell he’s worried about something as you handcuff another pickpocket to a lamppost, eyebrows furrowing as he fiddles with his escrima sticks.

You give him a silent look, your own eyebrows raising as you stand and face him. Oh. You know that look. “Talk to me.” You plead quietly. This may be the one thing that breaks that small daydream you've had since your teenage years. That dream where you both are together.

But dreams, as you've long accepted, are still dreams. You can settle for loving him from afar. And either ways, why ruin a perfectly good dynamic? “You know I couldn’t tell you. It’d make things awkward, star.” It’s always been this way, cat and mouse, kitten and robin, whatever you want to label it.

It’s been a game of chicken, awkwardly, tooth-rotting sweet actions and words. Until one of you decides to back away. Childish squabbles have always ended with picnicking over the rooftops of Wayne Manor, a game of how to admire the view.

The familiar nickname flows from his lips, coined after your first meeting, a shooting star lighting the rooftop when you first met. It’s softer this time though. Almost gingerly said, as if he himself is unsure of his next steps. Unusual with the charming and coy boy wonder you’ve grown up with. You hum, letting it slide as you notice the sky breaking in hues of the rosy oranges and pinks. A giveaway that your nightly patrol is up. "Tell me when you can, 'kay?" You pause, tacking on carefully as you walk past him, hand on his shoulder. "I'm always here to listen, boy wonder." He simply smiles, and even if you can't see his eyes, you know that the blues of his irises are smiling with it. It's real and genuine, and it makes you feel at ease like it's always been.

"I will. See you soon, star?" He questions, a hopeful smile working its way onto both of your expressions. "Always." >> This is what happens when I get 30 minutes of a good nap accompanied by a craving to see open endings. Additionally, this is a reworked version of the asks I've sent @idyllcy. I'm still so sorry for the inbox spam WHAHAHA. Thank you as always, hope you enjoy! 💙

DATING HEAD CANNONS - DICK GRAYSON

(there is no nsfw!! also no pronouns are mentioned!!)

(please don’t reblog!)

the start of your relationship

honestly when your first started dating you were really confused why he would constantly have bruises and gashes on him, or why hr just disappears. i feel like it you guys would get in a fight about him keeping BIG secrets, and like he would accidentally tell his secret and your just standing there wide eyed!!! he would probably be so scared that you’ll get scared and leave him. you end up giving him a huge bear hug mumbling “you better not die”! AND THIS MAN WAS OVER THE MOOOOOOOOON!!!!

he would be such a romantic! he will flirt all the time with you but it would be VERY common when you guys first started dating! he will ALWAYS hold your hand and would never let go because he’d be scared if you just vanished! he would immediately introduce you to the batfam! i feel like Damian would rly love you! like at first he was kind of distant but he warmed up to you later and wouldn’t let you be!!! dick probably has to beg Damian to let you be so he can spend alone time with you!

actual relationship hcs :)

STOP HE WOULD BE THE BIGGEST SWEETHEART EVER!!!!!!! you would get small and big gifts! i feel eventually you’d feel a bit bad that he is spending so much money on you but he genuinely insists that its fine!!!

dates would be the most fun thing ever!!! you guys either stay at home and just chill, cuddling just in each others warmth! or you guys would dress up and go to a fancy place!!

he is in love with your lips!! he loves how they feel against his, how warm and soft they are! he loves the colour of your lips (i have a darker top lip and hated it for so long! but you all are pretty so please dont ever hate your lips or anything about you!)

he always has to be touching you! not in a sexual way though! like he loves to pull you close by wrapping his arm around your waist!!

HE GIVES THE BEST HUGS

after a tough night your sweet face makes it all worth it!!!

overall ♾/10 boyfriend

have a great day/night and drink water!!!

jalebi baby !

or; Dick Grayson and his Indian gf hosting Diwali 🧨☄️🎆

dick grayson x indian!fem!reader, like one euphemism i originally wrote more but it was kinda off-topic so i didn't include it. but if this ends up like...resonating particularly deeply with anyone i'll make another part also never quite got an answer on that friends question... Read Jason's version here !

In the years you’ve been with Dick, he’s celebrated multiple Diwali’s with you. He’s familiar with the customs and practices by now, knows the story behind the holiday, and has space in his closet for the several traditional garments he’s collected over the course of your relationship. But this year is different; this year, you are the hosts.

The day before, you were a mess. Rife with stress and nerves over your first time hosting the family party, an unspoken rite of passage into adult life. He had to basically drag you away from your checklist so he could sit you down and pamper you, massaging coconut oil into your scalp so you could relax. You can’t lie, though, it did help. That, and him being extra generous while washing it out in the shower later. You slept like a baby that night, worries long forgotten.

When the time for the party comes, he’s looking so…

He’s wearing a kurta that perfectly matches the cerulean of his eyes and has a shimmering silver paisley pattern, and he wears it with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows to put his tan, muscled forearms on display. (*Barking*)

Like the gentleman he is, he helps you drape your sari. He presses the pleats flat, secures the pins in place, all with a graceful precision that makes the finished product better than you could ever achieve. He’s pouting the whole time, though, because no matter how much you insist that it’s magenta, it still borders too close to red for his taste.

“It’s magenta, Dick.” “That’s basically red! Why don’t you just wear one that says ‘I Hate Nightwing’ in huge letters?” “Dickie, don’t be ridiculous…you know the pleating would hide the words.”

You thought that was hilarious, but he’s EXTRA pouty after that.

He can’t be mad at you for long, though, not when you’re looking like that. The gold border of your garment, the sparkle of your gold jewelry, and the rosy color against your brown skin with a bindi to match…you’re practically glowing. And if you’re wearing paayals (bell anklets)…that dainty twinkle that follows you when you walk— hold on, he needs a minute. He thinks he’s died and gone to heaven because there’s an angel in front of him.

While you’re spending the whole party running around and looking after everything, he’s looking after you. He’s making sure you take sitting breaks, he’s bringing you water, he’s feeding you while you’re cooking, and taking over the cooking (when you let him) so you can take some time to actually enjoy the party.

For dessert you prepare his favorite (jalebi) but every time you remove one from the pot and place it in the serving dish, two seconds later it’s gone. He tries to pin it on one of your relatives, which results in said relative calling him lode (lode-eh), and you having to sequester him in another room so you can finish cooking.

While you take him on his walk of shame, he asks you what that means and you lovingly reassure him that it’s nothing bad. (It isn’t, technically…I mean it is his name, right?)

I didn't include this in Jason's version but I think while Dick likes jalebi, Jason is a gulab jamun kinda guy

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OMGGGGGGG!!!!!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

jalebi baby !

or; Dick Grayson and his Indian gf hosting Diwali 🧨☄️🎆

dick grayson x indian!fem!reader, like one euphemism i originally wrote more but it was kinda off-topic so i didn't include it. but if this ends up like...resonating particularly deeply with anyone i'll make another part also never quite got an answer on that friends question... Read Jason's version here !

In the years you’ve been with Dick, he’s celebrated multiple Diwali’s with you. He’s familiar with the customs and practices by now, knows the story behind the holiday, and has space in his closet for the several traditional garments he’s collected over the course of your relationship. But this year is different; this year, you are the hosts.

The day before, you were a mess. Rife with stress and nerves over your first time hosting the family party, an unspoken rite of passage into adult life. He had to basically drag you away from your checklist so he could sit you down and pamper you, massaging coconut oil into your scalp so you could relax. You can’t lie, though, it did help. That, and him being extra generous while washing it out in the shower later. You slept like a baby that night, worries long forgotten.

When the time for the party comes, he’s looking so…

He’s wearing a kurta that perfectly matches the cerulean of his eyes and has a shimmering silver paisley pattern, and he wears it with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows to put his tan, muscled forearms on display. (*Barking*)

Like the gentleman he is, he helps you drape your sari. He presses the pleats flat, secures the pins in place, all with a graceful precision that makes the finished product better than you could ever achieve. He’s pouting the whole time, though, because no matter how much you insist that it’s magenta, it still borders too close to red for his taste.

“It’s magenta, Dick.” “That’s basically red! Why don’t you just wear one that says ‘I Hate Nightwing’ in huge letters?” “Dickie, don’t be ridiculous…you know the pleating would hide the words.”

You thought that was hilarious, but he’s EXTRA pouty after that.

He can’t be mad at you for long, though, not when you’re looking like that. The gold border of your garment, the sparkle of your gold jewelry, and the rosy color against your brown skin with a bindi to match…you’re practically glowing. And if you’re wearing paayals (bell anklets)…that dainty twinkle that follows you when you walk— hold on, he needs a minute. He thinks he’s died and gone to heaven because there’s an angel in front of him.

While you’re spending the whole party running around and looking after everything, he’s looking after you. He’s making sure you take sitting breaks, he’s bringing you water, he’s feeding you while you’re cooking, and taking over the cooking (when you let him) so you can take some time to actually enjoy the party.

For dessert you prepare his favorite (jalebi) but every time you remove one from the pot and place it in the serving dish, two seconds later it’s gone. He tries to pin it on one of your relatives, which results in said relative calling him lode (lode-eh), and you having to sequester him in another room so you can finish cooking.

While you take him on his walk of shame, he asks you what that means and you lovingly reassure him that it’s nothing bad. (It isn’t, technically…I mean it is his name, right?)

I didn't include this in Jason's version but I think while Dick likes jalebi, Jason is a gulab jamun kinda guy

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Dick Grayson | Nightwing X Reader

ᨒ ོ ☼ Voice on the Line ᨒ ོ ☼

I feel hes a munch. I feel hes a woman lover. He loves women. Him when women. Also did i think about Garcia and Morgan when writing this? yeah…. and what about it?

masterlist

You’re the newest addition to the Batsquad. Cant help if you’re basically forced to talk to eye candy all night. Though what if the eye candy wants you back.

ᨒ ོ ☼ The hum of servers filled the air like a lullaby, soft and steady behind the clack of your manicured fingers dancing across the keyboard. Multiple monitors cast a warm glow against your skin as codes flickered by, surveillance cams blinked into motion, and the Gotham skyline lit up under your careful watch. You chewed on a pink pen cap thoughtfully, then leaned into the mic on your headset.

“Alright, Bat Team, eyes up. Cameras just caught movement on the east perimeter. Looks like our guy’s not late to his own robbery party.” Static.

“Copy that,” came a deep voice laced with just enough sarcasm to make your lips twitch. “And here I was hoping for a quiet night.”

The soft glow of neon lights from Gotham’s skyline bled into the Watchtower’s tech room, giving everything a purple blue hue. The glow reflected off your screens, lighting up your face as your fingers flew across the keyboard. Surveillance cams, thermal feeds, encrypted audio all of it filtered through your custom built comms system. You leaned back in your chair, twirling said pink pen through your fingers. Your voice came through sweet as sugar, laced with a barely hidden smirk.

“Watch yourself Nightwing, I hope you’re wearing something cute under all that kevlar. You’re live on all my cams tonight.”

A low chuckle filtered through your headset, rough around the edges in the way that always made your stomach flip.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite guardian angel,” Nightwing drawled, voice dipped in charm he wore like a second skin. “What would I do without your voice whispering sweet nothings into my ear?”

“You’d probably walk into a wall,” you said sweetly. “Or into that very large man standing behind the dumpster on 5th and Main.”

There was a beat of silence, then a soft thwack through the mic.

“You mean that wasn’t a trash can?” he teased, slightly breathless. “How dare you underestimate my night vision, sugar.”

You grinned, propping your cheek in your palm as you tracked his movement across the rooftops. “Sugar now, huh? Is that your new nickname for me?”

“Unless you prefer ‘Sweetheart.’ Or ‘Hot Stuff.’ I’m flexible.”

You let out a melodic laugh, not even trying to hide it. “Wow, your flirting game is tragic tonight. You okay out there, Nightwing? Hit your head on a chimney?”

“I’m just warming up,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Wait ‘til I meet you in person. Then I’m turning the charm up to eleven.”

You opened your mouth to volley back but Barbara’s voice cut in like a whip.

“Alright, you two cut it.”

You both froze.

“Lock in,” Barbara said, her voice firm and dry as dust. “This isn’t a late night radio show. We’ve got multiple armed targets on the ground and a hostage situation developing five blocks south. Thermal (your hero name), patch the thermal overlay to Nightwing’s HUD.”

You straightened in your chair, fingers flying. “Yes, ma’am. Thermal incoming.”

“Nightwing,” Barbara added with the tone of a fed up older sister, “try keeping your tongue in your mouth for five minutes. You’re on mission, not a date.”

“Harsh, Babs,” he muttered.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “if I had a dollar for every time I had to listen to the two of you flirt in the middle of a crisis, I could afford a better coffee maker.”

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh, then cleared your throat. “Aww, c’mon, Babs. Can’t a girl multitask? I can route power to Nightwings grappling line and boost morale at the same time.”

“I don’t need morale,” Nightwing interjected. “I need a distraction. Preferably wearing those glasses you mentioned last week.”

“You remember that?” you teased.

“I remember everything you say, Sweetheart.”

Barbara groaned audibly. “I’m leaving this room before I’m forced to bleach my ears.”

“I mean,” you added sweetly, “he’s just mad he can’t picture me behind this desk, legs crossed, looking very professional while saving his butt.”

Nightwing whistled. “If I didn’t have to stop a robbery, I’d be scaling that tower right now.”

Barbara’s voice snapped back over the channel like a rubber band. “Focus, both of you.”

“Copy that,” you said, suddenly all business again as you leaned forward and zoomed in on the warehouse entrance. “Three guards posted up. One pacing, one smoking, one with a submachine gun. Interior layout uploaded to your HUD. Entry through the southeast vent is clear. You’re greenlit, Nightwing.”

“See? She flirts, but she gets it done,” he muttered fondly.

You grinned. “I always stand on business, baby.”

“Then I better bring my A game. Wouldn’t want to disappoint my favorite tech goddess.”

You laughed quietly, adjusting your headset as you pulled up the emergency response grid. “Just don’t get shot, Nightwing.”

Barbara let out one final sigh before muttering, “I swear, I should’ve let Batman take this shift.”

But despite her grumbling, you swore you saw a smile tug at the corners of her lips as she turned away.

He grunted, and you could tell it was the kind of laugh he didn’t want you to hear.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said suddenly. “You keep me alive tonight, and I’ll finally let you buy me a coffee.”

You blinked. That was new. “You mean you buy me a coffee? Bold of you to assume you’re that charming.”

“You do call me every night.”

“Because it’s my job, Nightwing.”

Your own heart beat just a little faster as Nightwing’s icon approached the rendezvous point. It was almost always like this. Take the next day where you were thrown completely out of your own loop You were sprawled comfortably in the comms chair, pink converse kicked up on the desk, a bag of sour candy at your side, and at least three drinks within reach because hydration and caffeination were essential for optimal management.

Tonight’s mission? Barely a blip on the Bat Radar. A stakeout near the docks. Zero hostiles so far. Minimal risk. Maximal boredom.

“Nightwing,” you poured into your mic, stretching dramatically, “how’s the air up there on your boring little rooftop? You see anything exciting? UFOs? Pirates? A raccoon that looks like Bruce?”

“Negative on the Bruce raccoon,” Nightwing said through the comms, voice thick with amusement. “But thanks for the nightmare fuel, Sweetheart.”

“I try,” you chirped, popping another piece of candy into your mouth. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“You keep me somewhere, alright,” he murmured, just low enough to think you wouldn’t catch it.

You did. You always did. Before you could respond with another flirty jab, a new voice crackled in gruffer, sharper. Dry as sandpaper and twice as moody.

“Are you always like this?” Jason Todd’s voice cut in like a knife through silk. “I’ve been listening for ten minutes and I already want to uninstall my ears.”

You beamed, leaning closer to the mic like he could see your grin. “Red Hood! My favorite grump. Took you long enough to say hi.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, please. You love it,” you teased, swiveling in your chair like it helped transmit your energy. “I’m your emotional support chatterbox. You’d cry without me.”

“Unlikely.”

“Then why are you still listening?” you asked sweetly, tapping into his drone cam and watching as he crouched in the shadows near an old shipping container. “I see you didn’t even mute me. That’s gotta mean something.”

Jason sighed. The tiniest sigh. A truce in breath form.

“…You’re ridiculous.”

“And adorable, don’t forget that part.”

“Why does she talk to you like that?” Nightwing asked suddenly, cutting in with playful suspicion. “She doesn’t call me ‘adorable.’”

“I like to flirt with people who pretend to hate it,” you replied easily. “Keeps ‘em humble.”

Jason made a quiet scoffing noise. “You think I’m humble?”

“No,” you said, smirking. “But I do think you blush when I call you sweetheart.”

There was a long pause.

“…I’m turning off my comm.”

“You won’t,” you sang.

Before Jason could craft a dry comeback or fake a signal cut out, Nightwing returned this time with a tone that could only be described as smug older brother meets possessive flirt.

“Alright, alright,” Dick said, and you could hear his smirk. “Let’s not get carried away, Sweetheart. You do have a date coming up. With me, remember?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh yeah,” he continued smoothly, “you promised me coffee after our last op. Pretty sure that counts.”

“That was a tactical bribe to keep you alive,” you said quickly, cheeks burning despite your best effort. “Totally not binding.”

Jason actually chuckled at that chuckled. A small miracle.

“Well,” Dick said, clearly enjoying himself, “binding or not, I’ll be at that new café on 7th tomorrow at ten. You’re welcome to back out, but I do know where your candy stash is hidden in the Watchtower fridge.”

Your jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“You absolute menace.”

“See you then, Sweetheart.”

Jason exhaled like he was regretting all of his life choices.

“God, you’re both exhausting.”

You smiled, sweet and unbothered. “Don’t be jealous, Jay. I can pencil you in for brunch on Sunday.”

He groaned but didn’t mute you. Which, in your book, meant you weren’t the loser here .

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

The room was quiet now.

The static from the comms had faded, the mics had all gone cold, and the buzz of conversation that had filled the Watchtower’s tech room just minutes ago had slipped into silence. You were alone, save for the hum of machines and the low, rhythmic click of a monitor blinking back to standby.

You leaned back in your chair slowly, arms folding over your chest as you stared blankly at the screens. Your bubbly persona so easy to slip into when surrounded by voices, teasing banter, and fast flying intel started to crack beneath the weight of the quiet.

It always did, when the room emptied.

He wanted coffee. Dick Grayson wanted to meet you. A date.

The thought hit you again, more real now than when he first said it in that casual, cocky tone of his. You’d brushed it off, played along, tossed flirtation back like you always did but now? Sitting alone, no distraction, no one listening?

You felt it. That creeping, slow turning anxiety curling in your stomach.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about what he looked like before. Sure, you’d heard his voice, shared late night chatter across missions, and even made him laugh more than once. But imagining him? That was easy. Everyone in the Bat Family was objectively hot. Like, annoyingly so.

And you? You swallowed hard, curling your knees up into your chair and hugging them gently.

You weren’t anything like them. Not tall or sleek or scarred from combat. Not graceful in a catsuit or strong enough to throw a punch through a wall. You weren’t stick thin, but you weren’t curvy in a dramatic way either. You existed somewhere in the middle comfortable in hoodies, always in glasses, a bit awkward when the spotlight came too close. Your brain was your strongest muscle, and it sometimes felt like that was all you had.

Would he be disappointed?

You let out a slow breath, eyes flicking to your reflection in the dark screen across from you. No makeup, hair pulled back, sweater two sizes too big. You looked like someone who blended into a crowd. Like someone no one would stop for a second glance. What if you showed up and he just… didn’t see you the way he did over comms? What if the mystery was the only thing that made you interesting?

Your hand reached out instinctively, pressing your fingers to the edge of the console like you were grounding yourself.

You wanted to meet him. Of course you did. He was charming, and kind beneath all the jokes, and smart in the ways only someone who’d been through hell could be. But a date? That felt like something other people did. People who didn’t feel the need to hide behind tech and sarcasm to feel confident.

You sat there in silence, chewing your lip, wondering if he even knew what he was asking when he said, “see you then.”

Maybe it wasn’t a real date. Maybe he didn’t think of it like that.

But deep down, you knew you wanted it to be. You wanted to be seen. And you were scared of what would happen if you really were.

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

Dick Grayson stood in front of the mirror of his Blüdhaven apartment, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt like it was a tux. Casual. Chill. Low key. That was the goal.

So why the hell did he feel like he was prepping for a mission?

He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it for the third no, fourth time. Dark jeans, clean white sneakers, a navy hoodie that fit just right not too fitted, not too loose. He changed shirts three times before this one finally felt like the right one. He hadn’t been this particular about his outfit since prom.

“It’s not a date,” he told his reflection. “It’s just coffee.”

A pause.

“…With the girl who knows all your safe houses, your secret patrol routes, and who once talked you through stitching your own shoulder at 3 a.m. without flinching.”

Okay. Maybe a little more than just coffee.

He reached for his phone on the counter. One unread text waited at the top of the screen.

Comms girl <3: You sure about this?

Comms girl <3:You don’t have to meet me.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard before he typed back quickly.

bluebird: I’m very sure. You owe me that coffee, remember? I risked my life for that latte.

Your reply came within seconds.

Comms girl <3: You were five feet from the guy. I stalled him with a fake 911 ping. YOU’RE WELCOME.

He chuckled, thumbs flying across the screen.

blurbird : Still counts. Heroics were involved. You agreed to a reward. No backing out now.

Comms girl <3: Still time to change your mind. Could just keep this mystery thing going. It’s fun. Less risky.

He stared at that message a moment longer than he wanted to admit. There was a strange comfort in the way things were. The comms. The banter. The way your voice softened when his breathing grew strained after a tough fight. How you’d scold him for reckless moves and then follow up with, “But also… that flip you did? Sick as hell.”

You were part of the job no, more than that. You were part of him. But only in fragments.

He’d seen the pieces you gave: your voice, your wit, your ridiculous caffeine addiction, the hum of music sometimes playing faintly in the background when you were on shift. But he’d never seen you.

Meanwhile, you’d seen everything.

bluebird: You’ve seen my file, haven’t you?

he typed.

bluebird: I know what color your eyes are. I haven’t even seen yours.

Comms girl <3: Don’t worry. They’re not laser eyes or anything.

Comms girl <3: Still time to run. I won’t be mad.

Dick stared at the screen, thumb resting over the keyboard again. A few moments passed. Then he typed back:

bluebird: I don’t want to run. I want to meet you. For real.

Read. But no reply. He locked his phone, shoved it into the pocket of his hoodie, and grabbed his keys and helmet. Outside, the early evening had begun to spill across the Blüdhaven skyline. Fading light. Long shadows.

For once, he wasn’t slipping into the shadows himself. He was stepping into the sun.

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

The café on 7th was a small, tucked away place with mismatched chairs and the smell of cinnamon and roasted espresso clinging to every wooden beam. A warm corner of the city where life slowed down just a little. He arrived ten minutes early. Too early.

The bell above the door jingled, and instinct kicked in. He scanned. Two older women by the window, a guy with earbuds tapping at a laptop, a bored barista pulling espresso shots with dead eyes. No sign of you.

He ordered her drink extra sweet, extra foamy, “liquid sunshine,” you once called it and a black coffee for himself. Settled into a table by the window. Full view of the door. He texted you again.

bluebird: I’m here. No pressure. But I brought your order. It’s waiting patiently.

Nothing.

He flicked the lid of the cup. Checked the time. Tapped his knee beneath the table. Every chime of the bell had him sitting up straighter, breath held in quiet anticipation.

Not her.Not yet.

And that was the thing he didn’t even know what she looked like. No name. No face. Just a voice in his ear, a rhythm in his nights, a lifeline during the chaos. But even without a face, even without a name, he knew you.

He leaned back and watched the doorway like it held all the answers. Maybe it did.

His phone buzzed again.

Comms girl <3: I’m close. Just… taking a second.

He stared at that message. His heart did a quiet, hopeful jump.

bluebird: You nervous?l

Comms Girl: Maybe. You?

He smiled.

bluebird: I’ve fought Killer Croc, Deathstroke, and Jason with a crowbar. This is worse.

You didn’t text back right away. He waited. Sipped his coffee. Looked at your untouched drink and wondered if you’d ever actually take a sip from it. Maybe you’d just show up, apologize, and walk away. Maybe you’d turn around before even walking through the door.

You were already on the sidewalk. One breath away from stepping inside. He turned his eyes to the window, scanning every person who passed. Wondering if one of them might look in, catch his eye, smile.

Waiting. he hoped that mask off, no gadgets, no grappling hooks, no safety net that was enough. So he waited. For you.

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

The drink was starting to sweat on the table.

Dick’s thumb spun slow, lazy circles around the lid of the cup you still hadn’t claimed. The café wasn’t busy only a few people trickled in here and there. His eyes lifted every time the door jingled, hopeful… and then dropped just as quickly.

He wasn’t used to feeling this unsteady. With the mask on, he could take a punch. Leap off a roof. Throw himself into chaos without blinking. But right now, sitting at a table with a slowly cooling cup of coffee for someone he’d never even seen before?

He was sweating more than the damn drink. The bell above the door jingled again.

And he looked.

She stepped in like she was trying not to be noticed shoulders drawn slightly inward, a quick glance around the room before her eyes dropped to the floor. She didn’t look out of place, not really. She looked… normal.

Pink Converse. Faded denim jorts hugging her hips. A plain black tank top tucked in just right to show her figure, casual and effortless. Hair pulled back loosely like she’d tried to fix it three times before giving up.

Dick’s eyes lingered…. respectfully. He wasn’t a jerk. But he was a man. And the way she looked, with nervous energy practically rolling off her in waves, had his chest tightening just a little.

Cute. Definitely cute. Attractive, sure. She was cute. Soft around the edges. Eyes wide like she wasn’t used to being looked at too long.

Dick’s gaze flicked down, then back up not lingering too long. A polite once over. Curious. Gentle. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he looked away.

He didn’t know what to expect. For all the times he’d imagined this moment, all the late night banter and daydreams of what she might look like, he’d never settled on a face.

Still watching her from the corner of his eye, Dick slowly reached for his phone and typed out a message.

bluebird: “I’m by the window. Got your sugar bomb of a drink already. You close?”

The girl the maybe you girl jumped slightly when her phone buzzed. Fumbled it out of her pocket. She smiled. Just a little.

Her hand went to her phone. Dick’s screen lit up.

Comms girl <3: Already here. Just… not sure where to go.

His heart stopped. Slowly, his gaze lifted again this time with full awareness. He watched as she read his message, fingers still hovering near the screen.

Like she was laughing at herself and suddenly, everything clicked.

Dick’s breath caught for a beat. His lips tugged upward in a crooked smile as he texted again. Dick forgot how to breathe.

bluebird: Black tank. Pink shoes. You really do own those Converse.

You didn’t even look up from your phone. You were already typing.

Comms girl <3: Ok stalker, stop checking me out

He huffed a quiet laugh.

bluebird: Respectfully. Thoroughly. Definitely.

You lifted your head then, eyes meeting his across the room. Nervous. Hopeful. Your lips curved into something soft and self deprecating.

He stood before he could overthink it, heart thudding as he crossed the short space between your hesitant stillness and his table.

“You’re late,” he said, voice light, teasing.

“Fashionably,” you replied, walking with him as he guided you toward the window seat. “Also, very nearly didn’t come in. I walked past the window twice. You didn’t notice.”

“I noticed,” he said, pulling your chair out like the gentleman he rarely remembered to be. “I just didn’t know it was you. But then you looked at your phone like it offended you.”

You sat, cheeks flushed with something caught between embarrassment and amusement. “That was me realizing I sent three different versions of ‘I’m almost there’ and still sat in my car for ten minutes.”

Dick slid your coffee toward you. “Well i guess in a way you were.”

You took the cup, curling your fingers around it like it might steady you. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I still might run.”

“Do I need to stop you? I’ve got grappling hooks.”

That made you laugh. Really laugh. He liked that sound more than he expected. It wasn’t tinny over the comm. It was full, alive, right in front of him.

“God,” you groaned, lowering your head for a second. “This is so weird.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But good weird.”

You peeked up at him. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Better or worse?”

You grinned, shy but cheeky. “You’re taller than I thought. That’s not fair. I have no defense against tall and charming.”

“Charming, huh?” He took a sip of his coffee, raising a brow over the lid. “You haven’t even heard my best lines yet.”

You rolled your eyes, the way you always did when he flirted too hard through the mic. But now it was real. Now, he could see the way you bit back a smile, the flush that crept to your ears.

“I’m not used to being looked at,” you admitted after a quiet beat. “I’m used to watching. Behind the screens. Behind the noise. I’ve seen your face a hundred times. This is… lopsided.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, gaze steady and warm.

“Then let’s even it out.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Let me learn you,” he said, voice low, honest. “No comms. No mission. No static. Just… you.”

You looked away, biting your lip, your fingers tracing the lid of your cup now like he had earlier. “You’re a lot more intense in person.”

“I’m a lot of things in person,” he said, smiling. “Most of them good. Some of them bad. All of them me.”

A silence passed. Not awkward contemplative. Like both of you were quietly adjusting to the weight of seeing each other. Really seeing each other.

“I always see you in your outfit, this feels a little weird” you murmured eventually.

He grinned. “You’ll be happy to know I left the spandex at home.”

“Tragic.”

Another moment of quiet, then

“I’m glad you showed up,” he said.

You smiled down into your drink. “Yeah. Me too.”

Outside, the city moved in its usual rhythm cars, footsteps, noise. But here, at this little table by the window, something new was starting. Not a mission. Not an assignment. Just Dick and you.

𖤓˖⁺‧₊☽𓅨☾₊‧⁺˖𖤓

The coffee was long gone, but neither of them had made a move to go their separate ways.

Instead, they strolled the streets of Blüdhaven, their pace slow, like time had bent around them just for a little while. The sun had started to dip behind the buildings, casting soft golden light on the sidewalks, and the breeze stirred the trees enough to make the leaves flutter like lazy applause.

You walked beside him with your now empty cup in hand, straw still between your lips despite it having been dry for the last ten minutes. Nerves still clung to your skin, thin but persistent. You had no idea where to put your hands or how to keep your voice steady. You weren’t usually like this. Over comms, you were bold, loud, sarcastic, and playful.

But out here, in the open, without a headset and with Nightwing walking beside you in casual clothes that hugged him way too well for your nerves to take? It was different. He was real. And you were suddenly aware of every flaw you’d been trying not to think about since this morning.

“You know,” you said with a light chuckle, trying to keep your voice in that easy, familiar tone, “I honestly expected you to cancel last minute. Or like, show up but wear the mask the whole time and pretend to be mysterious.”

Dick looked over at you, one brow raised, and a smile playing at his lips. “You really thought I’d ghost you after all our late night flirting?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but your eyes darted away. “I mean… I dunno. Maybe.”

“You ruined that for you because i would never,” he said dramatically, then bumped his shoulder gently against yours. “I told you I was coming. I meant it.”

His voice was warm, not teasing this time. Just honest. He watched you as you gave a small smile, eyes still scanning the sidewalk like you were searching for something to say. He saw the way you carried yourself. Not shy, exactly just… cautious. Though he saw you and wanted too. All of you.

Not just the confident voice in his ear or the tech genius who could break into encrypted systems like they were open windows. He saw the little things: the nervous hand fidgeting with your cup sleeve, the way you pulled at the hem of your shorts when you thought he wasn’t looking, the practiced jokes you used to deflect any compliments.

So he gave you more of them.

“I like your shoes,” he said casually, glancing down at the worn pink Converse. “its a very you thing, reflective of your personality”

You laughed an actual laugh, not a polite one. “I don’t know if footwear can tell you my life story?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, nodding with mock seriousness. “Pink shoes? Total power move. I love when women.”

You shook your head, trying to hide your grin. “you love when women?”

“And the shorts?” he added. “Perfect length. Shows off those legs that have been sitting behind a computer for, what? Ninety percent of your adult life?”

“Oh my God,” you groaned, covering your face with your free hand. “You’re a menace.”

“I’ve been told worse,” he said with a wink.

You both fell into a comfortable rhythm after that. Step for step, laugh for laugh. The tension slowly ebbed away the longer he stayed near you like he was peeling back the nervous layers without ever drawing attention to them.

After a few quiet moments, you nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Okay, so serious question.”

“Hit me.”

“How the hell does this team work? I started hacking stuff and suddenly im here? ”

He laughed, raising both brows. “You tell me. You’ve got this adorable, good vibe going for you, but I’ve read some of those logs. You were wrecking firewalls like they owed you money.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” you defended with a smirk. “Okay, maybe the satellite thing was a little over the line.”

He turned to face you mid step. “Wait. What satellite thing?”

You winced, cheeks flushing. “I… might’ve accidentally hacked into a WayneTech orbital system when I thought it was an old NASA server.”

He stared at you, stunned. “You hacked WayneTech?”

“Allegedly,” you said, grinning now. “And two days later, Babs showed up in my basement. No warning, no badge, just… bam, red hair and righteous fury.”

“She must’ve been so mad.”

“She told me I was wasting potential and recruited me on the spot.”

Dick laughed again, and this time, it was full bodied, the kind that lit up his whole face. “Classic Babs.”

“Honestly? She’s the first person who ever looked at me and didn’t just see a mouthy hacker. She actually saw… me.”

His smile softened. “She does that. Did the same for me once.”

You glanced at him curiously. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket. “Back when I was still figuring things out after leaving Bruce. I needed distance from the Bat stuff needed to figure out who I was when I wasn’t under the cape. Babs helped me get there. Helped me want to be more than just Robin.”

“I think you’re doing alright,” you said, bumping his shoulder this time.

“I’m trying,” he said with a shrug. “Still check in on the family though. Bruce, my brothers, Grandpa.”

You blinked. “Grandpa?”

“Alfred,” he clarified with a mischievous grin. “I started calling him that just to piss him off, but I know he secretly loves it.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “That’s so weirdly wholesome. ‘Nightwing has emotional depth and a soft spot for butlers,’ coming to theaters this fall.”

“Hey, he’s not just a butler. He’s the butler.”

“I stand corrected.”

The sky was blushing now, soft shades of purple and orange painting the horizon. The city buzzed around you, but for once, it didn’t feel overwhelming. It felt like a quiet pocket of something special.

Dick glanced sideways at you, the wind tugging gently at your hair, and felt that same flicker in his chest again. The one that started when your voice used to crackle in his earpiece during midnight stakeouts. The one that grew stronger every time you made him laugh, or saved his ass from another security lockdown, or stayed on the line with him just so he wouldn’t be alone.

“I’m really glad we did this,” he said softly.

You looked at him, caught a sincerity in his eyes that left no room for doubt.

“Yeah,” you said, voice just as soft. “Me too.”

The air had taken on that evening crispness the kind that whispered promises of something new. The two of you were still walking, slowly now, like neither wanted to reach wherever the sidewalk might end.

Dick glanced at you again, longer this time. Not just quick, playful side glances, but a longing look. One that lingered as the fading sun touched your skin. He could see the way your lashes caught the light, the slight smile tugging at your lips as you sipped from your empty straw out of habit. The way your eyes moved when you were thinking.

You caught him staring.

“What?” you asked, arching a brow.

He shrugged with an easy, boyish grin. “Nothing. Just… you’ve got a good laugh.”

You blinked. “What, like a ‘haha’ laugh or a ‘joker is getting off’ laugh?”

He chuckled. “The kind that’s been in my ear for months, but somehow sounds better in person.”

Your stomach fluttered. You covered it with a sarcastic smile. “Are you flirting with me again, Grayson?”

“Only mildly,” he teased, then glanced ahead. “I mean, I’ve gotta pace myself. You’re kind of… addictive.”

You didn’t answer for a moment. You didn’t know how. And honestly, you were worried your voice would betray how warm your chest suddenly felt.

He didn’t press it. Just kept walking with you in step. But then he said, a little more softly:

“I never really thought about it before… how different things feel when you’re not just a voice in my ear.”

You looked over at him, curious. “Better or worse?”

He gave you a look, deadpan. “What kind of question is that?”

You tried to laugh, to brush it off, but he turned toward you fully now, walking backward a few steps so he could face you as you moved.

“You have this… energy. When we’re on comms, it’s like… controlled chaos in the best way. Keeps me grounded, keeps me alert. But now? Seeing you like, actually seeing you your expressions, your body language, your weird obsession with pink…”

“I do not!”

He smirked. “You do. It’s very cute.”

You shoved his arm lightly, heat rushing to your face. But the smile was genuine now. You were relaxing, piece by piece.

“I guess I just didn’t realize how much I’d been missing until now,” he added, turning back around to walk forward again. “Hearing you’s great. But… seeing you talk? Watching your eyes move when you go on your little tech rants or when you start teasing me? It hits different.”

Your heart thudded hard.

He wasn’t saying “I want to see your face more.” But he was.

You swallowed around the growing smile and said, “Well… good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

He shot you a glance then, something soft and full of unspoken words.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That is a good thing.”

DC ✢ When he admitted he loved you

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark. This is a companion piece to another headcanon called 'When he realised he loved you' linked here. Though, you can still read it independently.

B R U C E⠀W A Y N E

Bruce did not say it in a quiet moment — for such moments were rare. Though, when they did find him, he spent them with you in silence. Not with words but simply by being near, by existing in your presence.

No. It came during an argument. One of those arguments that shakes the very foundations of a relationship — not because of what was said, but because of what had never been, what was expected.

You had asked him — raw, wounded — what you meant to him. What all this was. Why he kept forming barriers between you, when all you had ever wanted to do was break through.

His answer had been frigid. Precise. Calculated and sharpened. A blade forged from old habits, Bruce wielded it with an unconscious mastery, a last-ditch defence mechanism perfected over decades.

You left. Not in fury, but in heartbreak, disappointment — the kind that does not cry, does not scream, but simply broods into silence. Your absence rang louder than a slammed door, louder than any yell you could have mustered.

Alfred did not speak. Just passed Bruce in the hallway with the kind of look that had once made him sit straighter as a boy. And now, it made him feel small once more, as though he were still a child.

Time passed and still, silence.

He found you in the garden, beneath a sky now thick with stars, the sun had still been gleaming when you had hurried away. You had not been crying. You were still. And in that stillness, he saw the damage he had inflicted upon you.

‘I can’t seem to protect what I love,’ he said, words fractured, conflicted. ‘Not my parents. Not Jason… Not you —’ 

You turned. Not startled by the confession, but by the break in his voice. You had never seen him like this before, never so fragile. 

‘But I do. I love you. I want… I need you to know that.’

It was not cinematic. No kiss. No arms thrown around shoulders. Just him, standing before you, hollowed by an atypical honesty, praying you would believe him — even if he was undeserving of that trust.

And you did. You believed him. Bruce could see it in the ease of your countenance, in the smile that now warmed your face. But even so, he apologised as though he had committed a most heinous crime.

You pulled yourself to your feet, still wordless. And enveloped him in your arms.

‘I love you too, Bruce.’

D I C K⠀G R A Y S O N

Dick meant to say it casually — with that charming nonchalance that usually came so naturally to him. He had rehearsed it, even. Smiled in the mirror once or twice. But it never felt right, never felt adequate. It was too simple a word to describe what he felt for you. 

But love, he discovered, should not wait for perfect timing.

It came unexpectedly late one evening, while a movie played in the background — some low-budget film neither of you had been truly watching. Your head was on his shoulder. His thumb was tracing invisible shapes into your side.

And then — suddenly breathless, it had grown too large to contain, he could not hold it any longer,

‘You know I love you, right?’

You blinked like someone newly roused from a dream, and looked at him as though he had spoken in a foreign language. Dick was not confident he had not. 

When you remained quiet, he chuckled, uneasy. And brought his hand to the back of his neck, in a nervous, boyish manner. 

‘I mean — I have. For a while. I just didn’t want to ruin it by...’ He trailed off, not quite sure what he was saying. 

You remained quiet for a few moments more, contemplating. The juncture of silence stretched taut, he held his breath. And then you smiled. 

As soft as the moonlight now shining through the curtains, you whispered, ‘I love you, too.’

He kissed you gently, as though he were trying to make up for all the times he had not said it sooner. In that moment, he was not Dick Grayson, he was not Nightwing or the Boy Wonder — he was simply someone lucky enough to be loved by you.

To this day, he cannot for the life of him remember the movie that had been playing. All he could remember was that smile — the way it had already lit up your eyes by the time it reached your mouth and the enthralling, glowing warmth that had flooded his system.

J A S O N⠀T O D D

You were stitching him up again — hands steady, breath shallow, a routine so familiar it hurt. Nothing fatal. Nothing new. His form was half-draped in shadow, skin cold under your touch. You sat cross-legged before him. 

‘You’ve got to stop doing this,’ you murmured, not for the first time and certainly not the last. 

He did not answer. Because what would he tell you? Not the truth, you would not want to hear it. Every stitched-up wound felt like proof that you cared; he could not resist the temptation. He did not believe you could love a man like him, but when he felt your gentle fingers work over his skin, he let himself consider it; he let himself yearn. 

‘I’d die for you, you know?’ he muttered. Off-handed. As though it were the most obvious thing, as though it were as easy as breathing.

A frown turned your face. ‘That’s not comforting, Jason.’

And then — something unspooled. A thread that had been pulled too tight for too long. Jason sighed.

‘What I was trying to say… What I meant was… I love you —’ He looked into your eyes, gaze piercing, willing you to see the truth of it. 

The words had flooded out like a barrage breaking open. ‘That’s all I’m trying to say. I’d die for you because… I can’t picture a world without you in it. I wouldn’t want to.’ He shivered at this, at the concept of a sphere you did not grace, the very notion made him ill. 

You stilled. Hands held suspended above him, pausing their work.

He was not looking for a response — only a release; he had needed this off his chest. But you gave him one anyway.

‘I love you, too.’ You had uttered it so softly, had Jason not already been watching your lips, he may have missed it. His breath caught — not in fear, but in awe — as though his lungs had momentarily forgotten their most natural function.

Your words felt like electricity brimming beneath his skin — like every nerve had been awoken at once. A new fullness bloomed within his chest, as though the ribs could no longer host his heart; as if it had suddenly grown too large to contain.

He spoke up again, softer this time,  ‘I’ll try to live for you too. That part’s harder. But believe me when I say I want it. More than anything.’ He gave you one of his rare smiles, and your heart jolted.

You silently placed the first aid materials to the side and leaned in, placing your head against his shoulder. After a short while you shifted, leaving scattered kisses across his fading scars, lingering on each for a moment, he felt that same electricity once more. 

Your hands ghosted over him like he were something precious, as though the ruin of him was worth loving, and that was the message you were trying to convey, what you were trying to have him understand.

Jason did not sleep that night. Not out of pain or panic, but because he was afraid it had been a dream. That peace, for someone like him, was more fragile, more fleeting than any reverie; and he could not stand the idea of waking up.

T I M⠀D R A K E

You both had been working late, each focused on your own tasks, yet relishing in the silent company of one another; the peace of it. Tim sat at his desk, while you lay across his bed, legs swinging behind you with a pen in hand.

Tim had asked you to stay at the manor for the night, but you had gently refused, reminding him you had work in the morning. You got up and walked over, placing both hands on either shoulder. You then pressed a kiss to his temple and whispered in his ear.

‘I better head off now.’ He leaned his head back into you, and his eyes met yours, smiling.

And then — too casually, too instinctively — he said, ‘Okay, love you.’

The words had flowed out like a torrent. A sudden, unexpected failure in his system.

Then a silence dropped like a stone in deep water — sudden, heavy, and irreversible; absolute.

He froze. His eyes were wide, as though the phrase had been spoken by an imposter, by someone else within his skin. He had known this fact for a long time, it had only been a matter of time.

‘I didn’t — I mean — that wasn’t—well, it was, but —’ He stopped. His words crashed over each other, panicked and sputtered.

You tilted your head. Shock the dominant expression on your face.

‘You love me?’

He nodded, slowly, it would be silly to deny it; to lie. Shame crept into the corners of his expression. What if he had said it too soon? What if the word drew you away?  Then suddenly you smiled, as though you had been waiting for this exact failure, this exact slip-up.

‘Well… that’s good,’ your whisper was tender. ‘Because I love you too.’

And just like that, his spiralling mind halted. His thoughts — so often a storm of what-ifs and whys — were suddenly still.

And in that stillness, something shifted.

The tension in his shoulders eased and melted away. He let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding — shaky, but smiling. It was not his usual tight-lipped smirk, nor the polite upward curve he would give strangers — this one was real. Quiet, disbelieving and full.

You leaned downward and rested your forehead against his, your hand moving to cradle his cheek. Tim leaned into it like he had been starved of its softness. You spoke through a grin.

‘Maybe I should stick around. Was that your plan all along?’

D A M I A N⠀W A Y N E⠀(Aged up as Batman)

Damian did not like the word love. Not at first. The word felt paltry. Trite. A flippant syllable never built to hold the sheer weight of what he carried for you.

You had just bested him in sparring. You always did, but only because he allowed it — Damian would sooner impale himself on his training blade than admit it, but it was not as though you were unaware. You had thought it cute, an adjective you would never dare utter to his face. 

Damian had no shortage of self-pride. The fact he was willing to sacrifice it, simply to please you, always left you breathless. 

You extended your hand to guide him up, but he simply stared at it from his place on the mat, his gaze shifting upward. You were standing over him, a barely contained smirk donning your features. 

‘You do not understand what you mean to me,’ he said, voice low and filled with a thousand ulterior meanings, though they bled through, his tone turning earnest.

You did not speak. You simply waited.

‘This feeling,’ he tried again, ‘it disrupts everything. My training. My thoughts. My plans. Everything. It… it…’ He trailed off, not sure how to finish what he was saying, not confident that the words capable of conveying these feelings were extant across any vernacular, it seemed too implausible. 

You smiled, faintly. ‘You mean love?’

He flinched like you had cursed. But then — after a moment — he nodded.

‘Yes. That.’ It was not enough, but he figured he would concede. ‘I feel it. Unwillingly. But truthfully.’

You laughed, it was warm and bell-like. It struck something tender in him, something still learning to hope.

‘I love you too, Damian.’

How was it, that word he had held with such contempt, such scrutiny and scepticism, was suddenly so weighted, so gorgeous uttered from your lips? How was it so impactful now it was directed towards him? 

He looked away, not from shame, but from overwhelm. He had fought assassins, atrocious criminals, and the weight of his father’s legacy — but never had he felt something as all-consuming as being wanted, as overwhelming as the thought of your love.

C L A R K⠀K E N T

He had told you on a rooftop. Not because it was histrionic, but because it was distant — far above the world’s inescapable noise, yet still beneath its stars. 

You were talking about something entirely ordinary. Rent, perhaps. The cost of your water bill.

But he was not listening, not truly. He watched as your lips moved and thought only of how he yearned to kiss them, to wake up to them each and every morning. 

And then he looked at you. Really looked. And the words came like wind through the ether — soft, inevitable.

‘I love you.’ He had cut you off, but it needed to be said. He could not have lived another moment without these words held suspended between you. 

You smiled, easy. ‘I know.’

But he shook his head. Shifting closer. There was an ache in his voice, a gravity to it.

‘No. I love you. Not in the way people say when they’re hanging up the phone. Or when they leave for work in the morning. I love you like… like…’ He paused, eyebrows furrowed, ‘I’m not sure I can put it into words —’ He places his hands on either side of your cheeks. 

You stopped breathing.

‘You’ve given me something no one else has,’ he said, his voice near breaking. ‘Not because you wanted a hero. But because you saw me — as nothing more than a man. The farmboy. The one who still forgets to fold his laundry, after you’ve already asked him five times…’

You let out a sudden laugh, but it was not for his joke, your joy at his admission could not be contained; it surged out. You kissed him.

‘I love you, too.’ You murmured, Clark could hear the smile within your voice. Then he thought of the stars glimmering upon them, they shone bright, yet still somehow paled in your comparison. 

I was thinking of expanding upon the Jason Todd section and turning it into its own one-shot, would anyone be interested in that? Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

DC ✢ When he realised he loved you

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark.

B R U C E⠀W A Y N E

The moment had been a quiet revelation, in a silence so profound it frightened him. The kind of silence that followed the first crack of thunder, one moment loud and undeniable, the next building with tension, waiting for it to strike again. 

You were sitting in the library of the manor, an arcane book resting open upon your lap, the fire crackling softly behind you. He had just returned from patrol — broken, bloodied, and defeated.

You looked up, eyes wide, alarmed at his state and asked, ‘Bruce?’ You had spoken as if he were not the Batman, not an emblem of vengeance and grit, but a man, just a man, whose hurt mattered.

Something in him gave out. Not in an ostentatious, cinematic collapse, but in the subtle yielding of defences too long held taut. His mind, a fortress of rationale and boundaries, fell silent.

She sees me, for all I am, it whispered. And yet she stays.

He had not believed in unconditional love since the alleyway. But in that moment, with the stench of blood from his suit and the leaden weight of the city upon his back, he saw love for what it was — not a sanctuary, but a quiet understanding, and a choosing. And she had chosen him.

It terrified him. Because now he had yet another thing to lose, to protect, something that was not abstract. It had a name. A voice. A laugh. It sat in his home and softened his world.

He had never been the same since.

D I C K⠀G R A Y S O N

It crept up on him — not a wave, but rather a tide. Quiet and constant and utterly irreversible.

You had fallen asleep in his bed, still holding a game controller, your brow furrowed even in your unconsciousness. He watched you in the blue glow of the screen and thought, God, I’d die for her.

And then came the laugh — low, bitter, surprised. Because of course he would. He was always ready to die for someone.

But this felt different. This was not a compulsion, a sense of duty. It was not about legacy or guilt. It was about you. And the way your presence grounded the part of him that had always been just suspended above the world, half-grieving, half-trying.

He remembered kissing your forehead before leaving for patrol that night. Slow. Lingering. The kind of kiss that was not about want, but reverence.

That was when he knew.

Love was not a thrill. It was a weight. And he had never wanted anything to anchor him, to tether him to this sphere, more than you.

The realisation made him smile. And then it made him ache.

J A S O N⠀T O D D

Jason felt it like the first rays of sun upon his back after a piercing winter, it flooded his system, warm and compelling. It struck him all of a sudden — new, unfamiliar, and… unwelcome. He did not want it. He had not asked for it.

You were brushing your teeth, half-asleep, wearing one of his old shirts, humming a song under your breath as though nothing was wrong in the world, as though it were not in a state of disrepair just beyond the window. And while watching you, he could believe it for a moment too.

Jason stood in the doorway, paralysed. Because he had seen too much tragedy, too much carnage. He could hardly believe that a quiet instant of peace, like this, could even exist, let alone in his reality.

His first instinct was to run. Not literally — he could never leave you. But to emotionally retreat, to steel himself for the moment this fleeting softness was stolen from him.

But you looked at him. Just looked — toothpaste foam and all — with a kind of amused concern, and asked, ‘You okay?’

After everything he had been through. He was not sure he had ever been less okay.

He loved you. He loved you with a passion that made him feel unworthy, as if he had tainted something holy.

A voice in him protested — said it was weakness. Said this would end in catastrophe. But he ignored it, just this once. He stepped forward and kissed your temple.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Just tired.’ But he was not. This was a lie. His mind was reeling.

He did not sleep that night. He lay awake memorising your breathing.

T I M⠀D R A K E

It was a question you asked that did it. Something ordinary, like, ‘Did you eat today?’

Tim wanted to laugh because it was such a cliché, wasn’t it? But clichés exist because they are true. No one ever asked him that, not like you had, not like it genuinely mattered. 

Then you brought him a coffee, one of those orders so tailored it was essentially an identity. You did not need to ask what he wanted. You simply knew.

He blinked down at the cup, then at you, and suddenly the task he was completing meant nothing.

He felt the world tilt. Quietly. Like the axis of his orbit had shifted. And it had.

Love, to Tim, had always been a puzzle he did not have time to solve. A thing for normal people, with normal lives, for people who lacked the responsibility he had garnered.

But there it was — simple, unassuming and irreversible.

He did not tell you. Not for a long time.

But he began cataloguing what made you smile. The way your face changed after a laugh, crinkled and carefree. He noticed the way your eyes sparkled just a little brighter when you spoke of things that made you passionate, and how the corners of your lips turned up when you were lost in a quiet thought.

This love became his sustenance, it was the first time in years he feared forgetting something.

D A M I A N⠀W A Y N E (Aged up as Batman)

It had infuriated him. The sheer idiocy of it.

Love was chemical, juvenile, a distraction. Or so he had been taught. So he had believed.

And yet there he stood — across from you in the garden, where you were speaking to a stray dog as if it were royalty, and something in his chest pulled.

At first, he mistook it for contempt — annoyance at your softness in a moment where he was attempting to be serious. But then you looked up, grinned, and said, ‘I think she likes me.’

And the words caught in his throat. Not because he did not believe them, but because he liked you. Against every grain of his upbringing.

He wanted to scold you, retreat, build walls. But instead, he asked the cat’s name.

That was the beginning. The fracture.

He loved you. In an old, mythic sense. In the way poets spoke of their love — fierce, unyielding, as though it could bend the very fabric of time. 

And that it did, time slowed every time you entered his concentration.

He began to dream of futures — a concept once as foreign to him as mercy.

He has not told you. But he will. In his own time. For now, he will continue to relish in it, and continue in this alluring descent. 

C L A R K⠀K E N T

He did not realise. Not at first. Because what he felt for you was too immense, too intrinsic, to label with as small as a word as love.

It was not until you fell asleep in his arms, mumbling about a stressful day, completely unaware of the god you were held by, that it hit him.

You did not see him as Superman. You saw him as Clark Kent. You simply saw him. The man. His hope. His grief.

And he realised then — you are his tether.

He thought of Krypton. Of its loss. Of the gaping emptiness it had left as soon as he had learnt of it. And for the first time in years, he did not feel hollow. He felt… full. He realised, that the planet could never have been home to him like she was. 

You snored softly. He laughed. Then cried.

Love, he realised, was not loud. It was simply your hand over his heart. It was your laughter in the next room. It was your body next to his.

He had not fallen in love. He had found it, unexpected and irrevocable, and for all the power he had been bestowed, this force had left him helpless to resist.

And now he guards it with everything he is. Because you are not just his world.

You are his home.

If you're interested, I've since posted a follow-up called 'When he admitted he loved you' linked, here. Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

DC ✢ What scares them and how you help them cope

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark.

B R U C E W A Y N E

Bruce, for as long as he can remember, has always suffered in silence. A perpetual brooder.

People have come and gone in his life, but he has never been comfortable opening up to them.

And for the longest time, you were no exception.

Though, as time passed, and an intimate familiarity grew, you began noticing a shift in his behaviour. Where he normally would have isolated himself in the Batcave, overburdened himself with his work, he instead began seeking you out.

In those moments, he would gently approach you, and you would offer him comfort. That was when he finally opened up about his deepest fear, losing the people he loves, especially you.

He is terrified that, despite all his vigilance, one day he will be unable to protect those closest to him and the thought of losing anyone, of them being taken from him, is something he cannot bear to face.

He still does not show his vulnerability easily, but when you are there, he is not as afraid to let his guard down, even if only for a brief moment.

He will never admit it, but he is always so grateful for your presence. Whether it is a quiet moment holding your hand, your steady voice in his ear, or simply leaning against you, he finds comfort. He lets you sit with him, no words necessary, knowing you will stay with him.

D I C K G R A Y S O N

Dick has always been the life of the party, the one who could crack a joke to break any tension in the room, always for the benefit of others.

But as you spent more time with him, you began to notice how he would sometimes go quiet, how his smile fell a bit too easily when he thought no one was looking.

You would see the insecurity flicker across his face; like he was afraid he was not good enough. He was afraid that one day, he would let you down, it would push you to walk away from him and he would be alone.

On the rare occasions that Dick opened up about his fears, it was never in big, dramatic moments. It was during quiet, vulnerable times when you were curled up on the couch, or after a mission where he had felt everything had gone wrong.

He would admit to you, softly, that he worries he is not enough for the people he cares about. That maybe, despite all his effort, he could fail them.

When you reassure him, he would brush it off with a laugh, but deep down, it comforts him more than he lets on. And from that moment, he tries harder to show you just how much he values you.

J A S O N T O D D

Jason’s tough exterior had always seemed nearly impenetrable, to everyone who knew him and you had not been an exception to this rule.

When you first met him, Jason did not want to let you close. He pushed you away. Any attempt at trying to comfort him was futile.

Beneath this façade, there is a deep-rooted fear of being forgotten and unimportant, as though his death had been just another part of Gotham’s tragic history, another statistic.

Slowly, you began to perceive beyond his mask of resentment. During late-night conversations, when he allowed his frustration to ebb away, Jason would reveal just how much he fears that Gotham — or worse, his family — will not remember him as the person he is now, the person behind his carefully constructed veil, the boy he once was.

When Jason lets his walls down, it is never in public. It is solely within quiet, private moments with you, his eyes soft and vulnerable in a manner only you have ever known.

Over the years, you have learnt that showing patience and care, letting him know you are there even when he is at his lowest, is one of the most important ways to help him feel like he matters, to prove you see him for everything that he is, to prove you love the man beneath the veil. 

T I M D RA K E

Tim has always been the strategist, the planner; constantly running scenarios in his mind to ensure things go right.

However, with that constant need for control comes an intense fear of failure and not living up to the expectations he has placed on himself.

Early on, when you spent time with him, you noticed how tightly wound he always was; always thinking, and nearly always overthinking.

There were nights when he would finally collapse into bed, eyes wide with worry, unable to rest. You would feel this unease radiate from him throughout the night.

Tim never truly usually let his fear show, but one night, after a particularly difficult mission where he felt responsible for things that had gone wrong, he finally admitted how much pressure he felt to always be perfect.

You comforted him with a soft smile, telling him that it was okay to not have all the answers and that he, like everyone else, was allowed to make mistakes. You helped him realise the unrealistic expectations he had placed on himself. 

Since then, Tim still overthinks, he still plans, but, at the very least, he has learned, with you by his side, that it is okay to let go sometimes.

D A M I A N W A Y N E (Aged up as Batman)

Damian was fierce and proud, he never outwardly showed weakness if he could help it. His fear was simple, he was terrified that someone would see through this, that he would be perceived as feeble or unworthy of his name.

When you first met him, he wore his arrogance and pride like armour, it was designed to keep people at a distance.

However, as time progressed, you began to notice cracks in this façade; moments where he looked at his family and felt like he was not measuring up.

Damian never directly opened up, but you saw it in the way his shoulders tensed when his father praised others or when he failed at something that he believed should have been effortless.

One day, you found him alone, practising relentlessly in the training room. His frustration was palpable, and when he finally stopped, he turned to you, admitting woefully that he was afraid he would never be as good as his family and never live up to his father’s legacy.

You had been shocked, you had yearned for him to be open with you and had already resigned to the fact it likely would not happen. Despite this, you were quick to reassure him, reminding him that his worth was not measured by perfection, but by who he strived to be.

Over time, he began to trust you more, slowly letting you see the person beneath his well-constructed bravado. Though he would never admit it, your support meant the world to him.

C L A R K K E N T

Clark, the ever-hopeful, never-giving-up superhero, covertly harboured a deep fear of losing control — specifically, of accidentally hurting those he loves with his less-than-ordinary abilities.

His fear was embedded in the idea that his immense capabilities could go terribly astray, causing harm to someone he holds dear.

It is a quiet fear, one he does not often voice, as he does not want to burden you with it. But you can sense it in the way he is constantly holding back, constantly choosing to act in ways that minimise risk, even if it means sacrificing your mutual need for physical affection. 

One evening, after a particularly difficult escapade, where unbeknownst to you, his powers had nearly hurt an innocent bystander, you found him standing in front of the window, his hands clenched in silent frustration. He had been bitterly reminded of how dangerous he could be. If he lacked control for even the briefest of moments, you could be lost to him forever. 

You walked up behind him with the intention of loosening his hands with your own. At first, you made no impression on his unyielding frame, but eventually, he melted into your touch and let you intertwine your fingers. You gently asked him about it, and he admitted his fear, his voice softer than usual.

At this you embraced him, hoping you were not pushing any boundaries after this particular admission. You let him know that you trusted him entirely and that you believed he had an unwavering ability to protect, despite the weight of his fear.

From that night on, while Clark still remained cautious and vigilant, he knew that you were there to support him and, at the very least, you were not afraid of him. 

This is my first-ever attempt at a Headcanon, so any advice would be much appreciated <3

Detective Comics ✢ Masterlist ✢ The Halloween Jack

All my DC pieces are written with different iterations in mind, but they are not plot-specific, so you can picture your favourite <3 All my works, minus headcanons, use female pronouns for the reader. Besides this, I keep the reader undescribed, the only filler I use being 'Y/N'.

B R U C E W A Y N E

One-Shots:

Asphyxiated ✢ Y/N’s once-adoring relationship with the charming Bruce Wayne begins to unravel as his nightly disappearances and distant demeanour create an insurmountable chasm between them. Unaware of his double life as the infamous Batman, Y/N is left to wonder where she went wrong, seeking solace in an old friend, Jonathan Crane. 

Fleeting Moments ✢ Y/N and Bruce Wayne share quiet moments of love amidst the chaos of Gotham. In rare stolen hours between nightfall and dawn, she clings to the man behind the mask, not aware of the double life he leads. She watches as bruises form across his skin and holds him through his restless nights, grateful that, for once, he is by her side. (Prequel to Asphyxiated)

Hostage ✢ When Bruce Wayne hears of an active hostage situation the reader, his long-term partner, is involved in; he has no option but to take action as the Batman. (This is an older work, I am currently in the process of editing it.)

Enigma  ✢ Bruce Wayne has a secret that he has been keeping from the reader for over two years, fearing his vigilante escapades will only draw her away, completely unaware the reader holds a secret of her own. (This is an older work, I am currently in the process of editing it.)

Drabbles:

Coming soon...

J A S O N T O D D

One-Shots:

Déjà Vu ✢ When the reader's comms grow suddenly silent, Jason Todd's worst fear takes shape — not just the possibility of losing someone, but the cold, inescapable echoes of a past he could never bury. As he fights his way through the grime of Gotham City, one truth becomes undeniable: some nightmares never cease, they resurface.

Disarray ✢ She had become his sanctuary, the one unshaken constant in a life fractured by violence and resurrection — the only person who saw beyond the wreckage and chose to stay regardless. Jason Todd returns to the person he considers his home, only to find it in disarray.

Tether ✢ When a battered Jason stumbles into an alley and finds unexpected refuge in a stranger’s kindness, it sparks a fracture in the walls he’s built to survive. Trust was never a luxury he could afford, but as survival blurs into something more, Jason is forced to confront the most dangerous risk of all, love.

Drabbles:

Coming soon...

D I C K G R A Y S O N

One-Shots:

Late-Night Escapades ✢ Blüdhaven, well past dusk, is irrefutably no place to wander. Though, Y/N ventures out regardless, in need of a few essentials. She knows it is irresponsible, she knows what Dick would say, but the store is just a few blocks away...

Drabbles:

Coming soon...

T I M D R A K E

One-Shots:

Coming soon...

Drabbles:

Coming soon...

D A M I A N W A Y N E

(Damian Wayne will be aged up in all my work. Though, upon request, I would be happy to write something platonic for a young Damian.)

One-Shots:

Coming soon...

Drabbles:

Coming soon...

C L A R K K E N T

One-Shots:

Coming soon...

Drabbles:

Coming soon...

H E A D C A N O N S

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark.

What scares them and how you help them cope.

When he realised he loved you.

When he admitted he loved you.

There is just something about DC men...

Late-Night Escapades ✢ Dick Grayson

Synopsis: Blüdhaven, well past dusk, is irrefutably no place to wander. Though, Y/N ventures out regardless, in need of a few essentials. She knows it is irresponsible, she knows what Dick would say, but the store is just a few blocks away...

Dick Grayson x Reader, female pronouns.

Warnings: Angst (if you squint). Protective Grayson (I'm swooning).

Masterlist

Notes: This is my first piece for him, it was only supposed to be a drabble, but I'm incapable of reining myself in. So now it's a short one-shot.Words: 1,306k

Blüdhaven was a city steeped with shadow, each alleyway shrouded by the kind of darkness that seemed to linger with the ascent of dawn, draped in a silence thick enough to feel unnatural. The streetlights flickered intermittently, casting fractured beams across the pavement that glistened with rain newly passed by. The lanes stood like deep chasms, swallowing anything that dared venture too close. The city cast a gloom that made shadows feel like sentient beings, as though it were watching, waiting.

Y/N had no business being out here. She was well aware. Dick had made it inimitably clear on more than one occasion how much he hated her wandering the streets alone, he had just about forbidden it. She could hear his voice in her head, edged with frustration, laced with a quiet fear he never dared voice aloud. He viewed the notion of her travelling alone with abhorrence, never to mention her travelling alone past dusk. The city was his hunting ground, his burden to bear, and she was meant to be kept safely beyond its reach.

But it was just a quick stop at the corner store. A few things she needed for work the next day. Three blocks, in and out. Nothing more. Nothing dangerous. 

And yet.

A stir sat leaden in her chest, coiling there like an instinctual warning. It arose as a quiet unease, an itch beneath her skin; it deepened with every step. The air shifted behind her, subtle, nearly imperceptible. A presence. A weight.

Footsteps. Measured. Too measured.

She forced herself to breathe evenly, to keep her stride steady, but her heartbeat betrayed her. It was faster now. Louder.

The steps behind her matched her own.

She turned sharply, body instinctively dropping into a defensive stance, fists raised, ready. Her pulse roared in her ears, adrenaline surging.

And then... A laugh. Low, familiar. Yet tense, and bitter.

'Relax. It’s me.'

Her breath left her in a sharp exhale, the tension in her limbs unravelling all at once.

'Dick,' she muttered, willing her hands to lower.

'Oh, good, it’s just you,' he drawled, tone edged with something unreadable. ‘That’s what you were thinking just then, wasn’t it?’ He stepped closer, the neon glow of a distant sign catching on the sharp angles of his face, the tension in his jaw.

She tilted her head, eager to brush off the mistake, to drown the moment in indifference, she opened her mouth to speak but his voice halted her. He held his finger up,

‘I’m not done. Let’s visit the fact that instead of running, you were about to fight me.'

She stilled.

Her stomach dipped, shame threading its way through the dying remnants of fear still left clinging to her ribs. He was not wrong. She should have run. But instinct had ruled, and her instinct told her to stand her ground.

'I was not... ' The words felt hollow, and he did not wait for her to find something better.

'Do you not get it?' His voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. ‘It's reckless, Y/N. Choosing defence over evasion? What the hell were you thinking? And I’m not even touching on the fact that you were out here in the first place. Alone.’ 

He did not speak with anger. Not really. It was something deeper, something more ingrained. The undercurrent of frustration was just a thin veil over what he really felt. Fear. The kind of dread that could only be harboured from past trauma, from ceaseless, restless nights.

'I can take care of myself,' she said, but the words felt weak as she conveyed them. She knew she was in the wrong.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. ‘That's not the point. Not alone. Not without me.’ His voice turned gentle, pleading.

The finality of his tone settled heavily between them.

Guilt gnawed at her chest, its grasp unrelenting. Y/N had not meant to make him worry, had not intended to be yet another weight on his already overburdened shoulders.

'I didn’t mean to scare you,' she murmured.

His jaw clenched, his hands finding his hips in a familiar stance, a telltale sign of his fraying patience.

'You didn’t mean to scare me,' he repeated, voice quieter now, but not diminishing in intensity. His eyes locked onto hers, searching, holding.

'You think it’s nothing, but it’s not. It’s everything.' He let out a breath, something breaking in his tone.

'I can’t... ' The words faltered before they could fully form. He inhaled sharply, grounding himself, pulling himself back from something he would rather keep unspoken.

He straightened. ‘I'm taking you home.'

She wanted to protest. She wanted to tell him she did not need to be coddled. But she saw it in his eyes, this was not control. This was not about power. It was about his fear. About the onus he already sustained, the burdens he was far from willing to add to.

So she walked. And he silently moved beside her.

The city pressed in just as it had before, dark and perpetual, but with him by her side, the weight of it felt different. Lighter, somehow. He was right, of course he was; she should not have been out here.

They reached her doorstep too soon, the moment suspending between them, heavy with everything they had left unspoken. He lingered, his presence filling the space, his gaze softer now, something unguarded settling in the depths of his eyes.

‘You're safe now,' Dick said, his voice a hushed murmur, full of something she could not quite name. For the first time that night, his mouth turned up into a half smile.

And then, before she could think, before she could breathe, his lips were upon hers. Brief. Certain. A silent gesture, conveying everything he had left unsaid.

She melted into it for just a second, just long enough for her heart to falter, for the world to still.

He pulled away slightly, forehead lingering against her own, as his fingers circled her cheek. And then he stepped back, taking his warmth with him. She mourned its loss, his touch too fleeting.

‘I'll be back soon,' he murmured, voice rough, but brighter now. Then, he pointed an accusatory finger toward her, a brief flash of his hallmark charisma surfacing.

‘No more late-night escapades, alright?’ 

And then he was gone; as if he had never stood before her, suddenly taken by the murk of the city.

Y/N stood there, for a brief moment, the vestige of his presence lingering within the ether as she peered out into the vacant night.

The following morning, sunlight crept in through the sheer curtains, golden and soft. She blinked against it, stretching. Y/N became aware that her desk beside the window, now bore an unfamiliar shape, a paper bag. She was certain it was filled with everything she had set out for the night prior, the logo it exhibited being that of their corner store. It sat neatly at the edge and beside it, she discerned her shopping list, the creases in the paper smoothed as though someone had taken the liberty to flatten them. 

She exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Y/N wondered dubiously how he had managed to sneak it from her bag the previous night. She rolled over, gaze coming to rest on the man beside her, she had not heard him come home. Dick slept soundly, the usual, lingering tension in his face now softened, his breath steady, unhurried. Without thinking, she curled into him, laying content within the warmth of his body. He stirred only marginally before instinct prevailed, in his slumber, his arms wreathed around her frame. He pulled her flush against him, lips finding their place against her temple, his breath dispersing warm against the skin of her cheek.

Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3