berryless

Dick laughs. He has a very pleasant laugh. Both soft and deep, that somehow makes you think of pearls. A pretty thing that grew of someone's body, hidden in the depths of endless blue that hugs you tightly from all sides. You drift in this blue warmth until your chin pokes your chest, and that snaps you into focus again. Somehow, you want to pee ten times more than before you blinked. Time is weird. Having a physical body is even weirder.

You shed the blanket like an unwilling fox that longs for winter fur, and roll towards the bathroom, collecting hickeys from every stray corner. Like owner like home, you guess. Both want to mark you as theirs.

Haley catches up with you halfway and guards you from any more of those deep furniture kisses, barking at the couch when it tries to bypass her on its way to you. Ugh. Sorry, couch. Maybe try again next time when no one's looking. You pat its big back like a promise, then beeline for bathroom.

You're still drifting in and out of consciousness, and almost lose the toothbrush to one of the bouts of vertigo, but even so you'd really like to have some people—not objects—kisses, so you persevere through the whole ordeal and come out of it a wink more awake.

Haley eagerly shows you the way back, though she has to run circles to let you, who has one less leg, catch up with her. You appreciate her thoughtfulness, and at the end of the road you bow down to pat her. Haley licks you back, quick and wet, tail wagging to high heavens.

Dick is still on the mat when you return, though it feels like he has less clothes now? You vaguely remember he was in a Superman croptop when you left. Did you dream it..? Your memories are unclear.

Haley rushes from your hands to help him exercise, but you guide her to bed, patting it to call her.

"You cannot cruelly leave me the second your Dad comes into picture, Haley," you choke out, strategically heartbroken. "I need more emotional support in the mornings than him."

"Babe, it's literally lunch time," Dick says in a tone only early birds use, like his sleep schedule is any less fucked up than yours.

This hypocrite.

"It's always morning when I wake up," you cut back.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll call the bureau of time management and ask them to change noon to morning. Very inconsiderate of them to let the day pass while you were sleeping."

His gentle cooing thaws the ice in your voice.

"Aww, you'd do that for me? My hero."

You blow him a kiss, and Dick frees one of his hands to catch and swallow it.

"I live to serve."

"Yep. Can confirm. You're serving now. 'Am seeing it with my own two eyes."

He flexes in that one-hand handstand and scrunches his face at you. It takes a little time to register he's winking—picking up face expressions from upside down is not your strong suit.

Haley makes a great sacrifice of keeping you company and receives head scratches for her selfless deed while you mindlessly watch Dick twist his body like putty. Does he have bones under that starry-scarred skin of his? Unclear. Requires further confirmation. And direct contact. Lots of direct contact, mmhm.

His muscles flex when he changes the pose, rolling in tight copper wave over the wings of his shoulder-blades. It's always mesmerizing to see Dick in action. He's pretty like a picture, yes, and comes out great in those, but the beauty of liquid metal cannot be contained in a tightly sealed jar. You must let it run wild and free to see its true colors.

Under the spotlight of your gaze Dick preens: the workout feels more and more like a one-man show, a beautiful bird flaunting its feathers and great dancing prowess. He's a fluid perpetual motion machine, soft ridges of his gears rolling under tan skin, trapezius muscles fluttering in and out of view like wings trying to manifest and take him off into flight.

It's mesmerizing.

"You're so pretty," you sigh dreamily, physically feeling the floating pink hearts that bubble around you at the confession.

"Only pretty?" Dick sighs like he is disappointed.

"You are a man of multitudes. Just because I'm now focused on enjoying the view doesn't mean that's everything that I like."

"Hmm. So you are enjoying the view," he hums, clearly smiling. "Good to know. I thought maybe you fell asleep again since you were so quiet."

"I'm not good at multitasking."

He laughs.

"I may have noticed."

You scrunch your nose, feeling the explanation lacking.

"More like, when I'm laser-focused, the world shrinks to a needlepoint, and I'm only there for that one thing I see, and nothing beside it. So, it's not that I'm bored or not interested, I'm too interested to do anything else?"

Dick falters, but quickly catches himself.

"I wasn't aware you like me so much," he laughs, but it's less gloating than you'd expect.

Suspicious.

You let it slide for now, though.

"Everyone likes you."

"I have a long list of people who'd disagree with that statement."

"I don't care about the opinions of people who don't have taste," you dismiss with a scoff.

This time Dick's laugh is much more genuine.

"I'm so good you cannot get enough of me," he hums it like a tune, grinning.

The pink hearts crowd your vision again.

"Хорошего много не бывает¹," you say with conviction.

"C'mere," Dick calls, patting at the mat in front of him.

You raise an eyebrow, but follow.

"Sit."

You obey.

Dick leans in to kiss you mid-stretch, gently plucking your lips.

"All good things I have, I'll save you a share," he promises with a smile. It sounds like a joke, but somehow like he also means it.

You stare at him, a little breathless and a lot in love.

"I think you're the best thing you have."

Dick beams at that, and kisses you again, this time for longer, lingering against your lips even when he lets you go.

"There's still your share."

And if I want it whole, what then..?

You sigh, but keep the thought to yourself.

It's not that you want for there to be nothing beside you: it's impossible. Dick's a hero the whole world needs, you can't take it away from him. He also has a family that he loves dearly, and you're glad for that too.

It's just that you can stand to have a little more of him.

Dick shimmers like his human skin is unable to contain that shining blue giant of a heart in his chest, and the glow breaks through, scaldingly bright.

And beautiful.

And distant like all stars are.

That interspace is not malicious, you know. It's here to protect you from the harsh unforgiving scorch of what comes in set with Dick's other life. He wants you safe and sound, and sometimes—a lot of times—it means 'in the dark', clueless and nescient.

Frustrating? Yes.

Annoying? Ugh! Immensely.

But if Stone Sculpting 101 you took for plausible deniability of walking through Blüdhaven with chisel and hammer in your bag taught you anything, it would be that carving something out of its shell takes a lot of patience. You have to be gentle with your touch, or the stone will break, and the work will be ruined.

Small steps. Little things. You knew what you were getting into from the start, falling for Nightwing of all people.

With rose glasses cracked, you can notice the things you missed in the night: a significant new bruise suspiciously resembling a partial footprint on Dick's back. It's just one more speck of color next to many others in different stages of healing, old ones only slightly olive.

Time to do some chiseling then.

You stand up to take Haley (it takes an effort, but you don't even throw your back while doing it, which is undoubtedly a plus), and go to put her outside the door. She looks at you like you kicked her to the curb after using her, and boy do you feel guilty just as much.

"Sorry, baby, let us have some grown-ups time. Please?"

"Mmm. That sounds promising. Were you seduced by my shining pectorals? I oiled up just for you," Dick chimes behind your back. You cannot see him, but the grin in his voice is palpable.

You roll your eyes and close the door.

"Should I keep the pose?" Dick asks when you come closer.

You pause for a moment, imagining what it'd look like. Him still in handstand while you suck him off? That would be kind of interesting… Wait. You're not here for that! This insidious (sexy) manipulative (sexy) evil (sexy) mastermind (important things should be mentioned thrice)!

"Have you rubbed the ointment?" you ask, kneeling next to him and poking near the bruise. It's a safe distance away from the actual purpling, but Dick acts like you shot him: he dramatically aah's, his hands faltering, and smoothly falls onto the mat, limbs sprawled out like broken wings. Like you just killed him. Pretty man down.

He's absolutely ridiculous.

God, you love him.

"I thought we're having fun grown-ups time, not torture and interrogation in graphic details grown-ups time," he whines.

You crawl forward to loom over him.

"The ointment," you remind. Locks of your hair slip out of insecure parody on a messy bun you made to keep it out of toothpaste. Dick mindlessly raises his hand to catch one, twining it around his finger.

"I did, I did. Promise," he says off-handedly. "I'm taking care of myself so I can take care of my babygirl."

You cringe. And snort. And put your hand over the star of his old bullet wound, pinning Dick down.

"Who's the babygirl in this relationship? Try again."

Dick pretends to be intimidated.

"Yes, daddy," he answers sweetly in brattiest voice known to man.

"Good boy. Right answer."

You pat his cheek, aiming for patronizing, but when Dick leans in, your touch cannot help melting into sincerity. Dick cups your ass and pulls you into straddling him, rocking his hips to slot you right against his cock.

"Can we have some fun grown-ups time now? Please?" he asks, his hands guiding you to grind against him. Your bare pussy scrapes on cotton of his shorts, and the fabric quickly grows wet. Dick's hands slide up, freeing you from one of his old oversize t-shirts you slept in, and in no time you're sitting on him naked and panting.

So much for a meaningful conversation you planned.

Dick gropes you messily without rhyme or reason, like he cannot pick one part of you he likes to hold onto best. His palms cup your neck, squeeze your breasts, flick your nipples, rub your tummy, slip down to your clit. That makes you gasp. You buck into his fingers, your own slipping and trembling, forcing you on all fours for balance.

Dick groans under you. Through drunken haze of intimacy you look at him, eyes half-lidded. He pushes you up, lips into his mouth. His hips rise, and soon you feel the head of his cock pressing against you. Your pussy practically drools at him, and you're certain Dick feels it too, because he hums into you. His cock slaps against you a few times, then Dick squeezes it between your folds, his palm applying pressure. The friction quickly becomes delicious enough for you to seek it on your own, hips rolling for more.

"We are so not fucking two steps short of bed," you pant into him.

"Please?"

Dick's hungry puppy eyes should be banned as weapons of mass destruction.

"My knees are killing me."

The mat isn't thick enough for comfortable riding, and Dick knows it too, so he doesn't ask again. He still whines in immense disappointment as he guides you to hug his neck. You two rise together, and he leads you backwards to the bed, pushing you down when you're in a safe zone. This time he's the one looming over you to grab a condom from the nightstand. You watch him, panting, heart somewhere between your brain and your throat—hindering both your thoughts and your ability to swallow. Which isn't nice when Dick looks positively delicious. One way or another, you're getting his pretty cock inside, and quick.

He laughs at your throaty 'hurry', and teases you by dragging the head of his cock against your slick-wet cunt.

"A magic word," Dick purrs, like it wasn't him begging for a ride not five minutes prior. Ugh, this conman. He cannot ever be trusted, and yet you buy it every time.

"Diiick," you whine, pouty and wanting.

He smiles, content, and dips down for a kiss.

"And where do you want your dick?"

You growl at him, eyes feral. Dick lives for it. He rubs against your clit, slipping on your slick when your hips roll.

"I won't know if you won't say it."

"Fuck my pussy now," you order, and he finally obeys, pushing his cock inside you.

"Sheesh, so demanding," he whispers into a corner of your mouth, but his tone is smiling.

The stretch is slow and delicious. He fills you in a comfortable way that comes with familiarity between your bodies that grew used to completing each other. The anxiety to perform everything right had been worn down by repeated reassurance, and now you can just mindlessly drift in the current of physical affection, following Dick's rhythm because he knows best how to fuck you.

He keeps whispering something into your skin between kisses, but the words slip past you, barely grazing your mind. There's 'beautiful', and 'sweet', and 'so good'. Your heart bleeds a crack, unable to hold all the love and kindness Dick is giving you, and you choke on 'love you', trying to return at least part of it.

"Love you more," Dick echoes without missing a beat, and you feel like maybe he does. Because you're drowning in all the unabashed affection he's giving you, diving deeper to look for pearls that shine like blue giants, and Dick gives them all to you without a second thought.

It's so easy to love him, you aren't sure how you managed to keep it a secret from yourself for so long back then. Because right now that's the sole feeling filling your body, all the rest pushed into indistinct background hum. Your love overflows in motion, melts between you, covering both you and Dick, gluing you together to the point it physically pains you each time he distances for a new thrust. He's just so good, so yours in this moment, you forget there was ever 'before' the two of you happened.

Like the world only came into existence the night you first met.

Like it will fizzle out into nothingness the moment you'll break apart.

Dick spills into you, and pants into your shoulder, fingers finding your clit to help you come too. He's shaking, and slipping, but the rough calloused rubbing finishes you in no time, your walls contorting around him, squeezing for more.

"Fuck, you're greedy," Dick kiss-whispers into your shoulder. "Planning to milk me dry?"

You can only hum in response, unable to speak until you ride over the high of orgasm. It leaves you like a jellyfish up on the shore, sore and boneless, gasping for familiar press of ocean around you. It comes back in a sweaty sweltering hug Dick gives you as he falls, gathering you into his arms. His cock starts slipping out, but you chase it, unwilling to let go just yet.

The sex is great and all, but it's this part, this after is what you like best. The lasting connection. The lazy, satiated intimacy.

"Dick," you call quietly, and he hums back in response. "Dick."

He lets you chew on his name like it's your baby blanket, like it's the only safe thing in the big and scary world to hold in your mouth. He silently holds you close, the pressure of his touch on you even and secure. Every time it happens, it breaks you a little. The shell of stone cracks and powders down, letting out another part of your heart you kept locked for years.

Maybe Dick's not the only one with the star in his chest, because yours hurts like budding supernova.

"I really, really love you."

He hugs you a little closer.

¹ Хорошего много не бывает (Khoroshego mnogo ne byvayet; Russian) — There are never enough good things.

"Thank you," he says, quiet and sincere. "For loving me back."

Somehow that doesn't feel like enough. Your heart is still too big for your chest, too full, too close to bursting.

You push Dick down on his back, hovering over him.

"Not just because you're pretty," you say, choking on affection that rises like a flowertide inside your throat. There are too many things you can say, and they're all important things—and because they're all equally important, it's hard to pick one to start with, so you just blurt, "Your heart is bright like a star."

When the first part is out, when the crack has formed, it's easier guiding your thoughts down one line.

"You're so kind, it hurts sometimes. And whip-smart funny. And… and…" You choke on imaginary flowers, forcing yourself to push through, because why the hell you can wax poetic in peer reviews for friends and colleagues, but physically incapable to put into words what's so good about your boyfriend? "You feel safe. You make me feel safe. Not the 'if the aliens attack, and AI technology rises against humanity, there's someone to rely on'. Though that part too. But the emotional trust fall of it all. You make it safe. Like you're here to spot me if I slip."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Dick catches a pause when you struggle to breathe, because, apparently, confessing your feelings is just as grueling as running a marathon. "That's enough, you don't have to…"

"No, you don't understand. I need to say it. I need you to know…"

Even to yourself you sound like a petulant child on a verge of a tantrum. The emotional wave that carried you up to this point recedes, leaving you in wet sandy puddle of consequences. You sigh and let yourself fall, exhausted from trying to love too hard.

"I hate when I have too many feelings, and too few words to express them," you close your eyes, unable to bear the possibility of meeting Dick's gaze after you affection-vomited all over him. Ugh. Why do you always feel out of your depths when it comes to dating? The words are wrong, the timing isn't right, the sentiment isn't conveyed properly… You're floundering in a kiddy pool of relationship, almost drowning in water that barely reaches your chest. It's so lame, you cannot stand being in one room with yourself.

"Do you want to share read a dictionary next?" Dick asks with a chuckle, pulling you back into a hug. He's probably trying to make light of the situation to ease your embarrassment, but it kinda hurts.

Yeah, you went out and made everything weird with unprompted confession that was more awkward than a first-grader's love letter, but you were sincere. And serious.

It wasn't a joke.

The mood swings hit you harder than PMS—are you having PMS? That would explain the sudden urge to jump out of the window and run away to the woods to not meet another person, like, ever again.

"Hey," Dick calls softly. He shifts to get you face to face, but you close your eyes. Your lips tremble in a tight press. It's stupid, and awkward, and you cannot bear to see him, because you might just cry if you do. "C'mon, babe, look at me."

You turn away, tears pooling behind your eyelids.

Just great.

"Forget it," you sigh, trying to break free and turn away. Maybe it'll be easier to face the aftermath of you being an elephant in an emotional China shop this way. "I'll try again later. Maybe then it'll come out right."

Dick holds you in place with ease, not sparing you a mercy of abscondment. Sometimes his name suits him a little too much for your liking.

"You don't have to. I've got it the first time around."

Okay, and..? Is this all he has to say on the topic?

You resume your efforts of getting free and away from the situation.

"Look at me," Dick asks again, cupping your cheek. He's not letting you go, and with a sigh you resign to your fate.

Tears fall as soon as you let them. You rub them away, annoyed. Dick's calloused fingers help you with that, and you silently acquiesce to his touch.

"Sometimes I'm worried you think too good of me," Dick sighs. You raise an eyebrow at him.

Dick's eyes are on you, but it doesn't feel like he's seeing you.

"I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

Says literally the human embodiment of all good things in the world.

It's ridiculous.

You let yourself fall into him, curling around his heart. It still feels just as bright now as it was before. It really doesn't make sense how Dick can be blind to it.

"…Are you going to hurt me?" you ask after the pause has lasted for long enough.

Dick doesn't answer, and your eyebrows jump in surprise. Noticing this, he quickly reassures you, "Not on purpose."

You let yourself relax.

"It's fine then," you say in tone of an old crone, both wizened and wisened by the time. "As long as it's not intentional. It's what relationships are, are they not? No two people can fit one another perfectly one hundred percent of the time. There's no closeness without friction."

Dick chuckles, but the sound isn't happy.

"At what point the friction becomes too much for closeness to be worth it?"

He traps you with his gaze, waiting for an answer like you should have one.

You don't.

"When it hurts more than soothes you?" you try thinking it through, unsure.

Dick mindlessly rubs your cheek, even though the tears are now dried.

"I'll try to keep it under 49% then," he smiles at your answer, but it looks somewhat wrong.

It feels too fragile for you to push it, though, so you pretend not to notice.

"How about under 30?" you bargain instead. "49 is pushing it."

"Sounds like a high task."

"Says the man who helped save the world, like, multiple times. Like, almost on a monthly basis."

Dick laughs.

"Saving the world is an easy part. The hard part is keeping it safe."

He sounds heartbreakingly sincere.

You lean in to place a kiss on his forehead, your stomach warm from Dick's light.

"You're doing a very good job of it."

"Am I now?"

He smiles, but the question feels weirdly weighted. You search for words while absently pushing his soft dark curls away from his face.

"Honestly? Sometimes I think you can stand to push yourself a little less about it."

Dick doesn't answer immediately.

"If I do that, someone will get hurt."

"And if you don't, that someone will be you." Before he can argue the point, you add, defiant, "Sue me for not wanting to see my loved ones injured. I dare you."

Despite having more words to say on the topic—judging by the heavy, stubborn set of his jaw, Dick concedes, letting the argument wither.

"Don't dare, don't dare," he sighs, raising his hand—another still holds onto you, even though you aren't trying to run away now. "I don't have good lawyer money now."

You raise an eyebrow.

"You're literally a son of billionaire."

"And which side do you think my dad will take?"

"Duh. Try to be righter next time."

"I'm too much of a leftie for that."

"You're literally not."

"I'm forcibly ambidextrous. It helps when arms get broken."

You sigh and cuddle closer.

"I'll help you rub the ointment after the shower, okay?" you ask quietly.

"I did rub it."

"It's more convenient when I do it. Is it not?"

"Fine," Dick sighs with a face an eight-year-old would make after being forced into the dentist chair because of cavities. "I'll suffer through… Brrr! The torture of being taken care of. Even if it sounds horrible and not fun at all."

"You are sooo full of it."

"You like it though?" He smiles like the question's a joke, but it doesn't feel like one.

"I love it," you say, voice melting from too much affection. "And you."

Dick silently kisses your hair. The 'I love you more' is unspoken, but you still feel it in gentle security of his arms around you. This time it doesn't make you feel as inadequate, though.

Dick may love you more, but your love for him may be bigger than one he holds for himself.

"The movies," Dick says easily. "You wanted to check out that new romcom, right?"

Did you..? How come you cannot remember..?

"Which one?"

"Orcanic Love? About marine biologists?"

"Ew, no. I can't stand male lead's smug face. He's literally handsome Squidward in the flesh. Besides, I never go to cinema. Their sound system gives me headaches."

"Right. I forgot."

It wasn't noticeable before, but when his whole frame loosens, you understand how stiff Dick was just a moment prior. He hugs you a little tighter, nose nuzzled into your ear, breathing in your scent. For a moment you distantly wonder how he'd describe it.

It's not the first time this has happened. You brushed it off once or twice, not wanting to start a squabble, but all comes to a point.

"What was that about?" you ask, pinching his side. Dick oh's softly, but doesn't let go. He rubs against you like a cat, soaking in your warmth.

"What was what?"

"Richard."

He stiffens. You never use his full name, leveraging it for moments like this one, right now.

"If you have someone else you're planning to date Saturday, I'd like to know about it."

"…Are you angry with me?"

He sounds sensibly sheepish.

"I haven't decided yet. Not like we had The Talk™. Do I have a right to be angry?"

"You have. But you don't need to be. There's no one."

It's your turn to slack in relief now. So, there's no one. And you, apparently, are allowed to be angry and possessive about his time. Does it make it official? Does it make it exclusive?

Somehow, it's a little scary to ask those questions outright, so instead you stall.

"Why did you ask that, then? We talked about that movie. I never said I wanted to see it. At least, I don't remember I did."

"You didn't."

That makes it even more incomprehensible.

You pull away to stare at him, because words aren't enough to express the whole array of your feelings. Dick stares back. Very soon the corners of his mouth begin to squirm into a smile, and he cannot help himself leaning in to kiss you. It's a quick peck, and then he just lingers, wasting time on watching your face like it's the first time he sees it so close (it clearly isn't, but somehow he always makes it feel like it is). His fingers brush away a few stray hairs behind your ear, then gently trace its outline. He looks at you so closely as if he's trying to count your eyelashes, as if your skin is see-through, and he watches all your thoughts flash beneath it.

"I have to be certain it's you," Dick finally says.

You blink, the answer's too out of pocket to be prepared for it.

"Are there…other options?"

Do you have a secret evil twin locked in the family basement Mom never talked about? Is this a Parent Trap situation?

Dick chuckles, but it doesn't sound like laughter.

"You have no idea."

"Well, I'd like to have one, if you don't mind. You do understand that I start to doubt my perception of reality when you ask things like that?"

That gets him, and Dick flinches.

"Sorry," he says, much more quiet and reserved. "It wasn't my intention."

He looks both guilty and pained, even though you're the one who was just tested and gaslit. Non-maliciously as it may have been.

God, why does he have to look like a kicked wet puppy every time he does something wrong? It's absolutely infuriating how you can't even get angry at him.

You sigh.

"Do you feel better, at least?" you ask sullenly. "After checking?"

Dick nods. He stays silent as if afraid to say the next wrong thing.

You too don't know what to say for a while.

"Fine then. Do your thing," you heave the biggest sigh possible as you snuggle him back. "Should we make a passcode? Like in spy movies?"

Dick laughs softly above your ear and hugs you back, rocking from side to side. He's physically incapable of staying still for too long, which, honestly, same.

"You will forget yours."

"I can remember one, at least," you argue.

"Babe. You forget your own phone number."

"Numbers are hard, okay? I still remember the poem I had to learn for my English class in high school, though. I'm just selective about those things!"

"Sure you are."

You harrumph, incensed by his distrust.

Then, in a much smaller voice, you squeeze out, "What if I fail your test one day, though? What then?"

Dick cradles the small of your back, his hand steady and solid against you, big finger running slow deep circles against your spine.

"You can't fail it. There's no right answer," he says like it's a promise. "Just be you, and I'll know."

Your heart stutters, then suddenly picks up pace like it's determined to take first place in speeding through all the beats you were allowed in this life in the next few minutes. The squeeze of it is so painful and sweet, it brings you to tears.

There's too much implied meaning behind his words, both recognition and understanding. You feel seen, but also transparent. And it's never easy being a book without a cover in front of someone who can guess all plot-twists after reading one first chapter (you absolutely loathed a few times Dick inadvertently spoiled you by chiming in with his theories).

Before he can bully you with affection into a full-blown crying concerto, you change the topic, "So…you don't have movie date with our third party on Saturday?"

"I don't have any dates with third and other parties, period," he corrects.

"Hmm."

"It's just you."

"Oh."

"Only you."

"…I've got the point the first time around."

It's embarrassing when he puts an emphasis on it like that.

"You're fine with that? With just us?"

"…Yeah. I like that."

Even to yourself you sound choked.

There's no way Dick wouldn't notice.

He presses against you a little tighter. His calloused hand moves to lift up your chin.

It's not just a peck now. Dick takes his time caressing your tongue with his, and nibbles on your lower lip until it's puffy and sore, until you're keening for air, your knees bucking. He backs you into the counter, and you sit down, face pressed against his, throat heaving under his palm.

Even through intimate haze the feeling of his gaze—all-knowing, you-knowing—lingers, and it cracks you open right through your middle, splitting your chest apart. You're certain you'll see your heart beating raw if you look down. So you don't look.

Dick does, though.

His hand travels south your neck, resting against your ribcage, palm splayed wide to catch all echoes of your heartbeat. His touch's so fucking hot it's scalding.

"Don't do that," he asks, voice laced with pained desperation.

"Do what..?"

You've done nothing, right or wrong. And if he wants you not to keel over his kisses, he has to learn to be worse at it. In any case, whatever it is, it's not your fault, you're sure of it.

Instead of explaining, Dick just slides his hand lower until it rests against your abdomen. A very empty abdomen which could've been filled nicely if someone wasn't wasting time on playing his mind games. Your elbow gives when you try to push yourself into his palm, and you wobble, grabbing Dick's shirt for support. It pulls him closer, forces your legs wider to give him space between them.

"Don't take me in so easily," Dick begs as his nose nuzzles into your temple. The gall of this hypocrite.

You pull him closer to bite on his throat, and he gasps when your lips cover his Adam's apple. It moves under his skin as he swallows. Somehow the view is even sexier when you see it through your lips.

"You have to make me like you so much less for this to be more difficult," you muse, kissing the wet trail down his collarbones.

It doesn't register as a confession it is, before Dick freezes in place right before you. You just pull away to look at him, confused, head tilted, unsure why he doesn't play along.

Then it hits you.

Your first instinct is to deny everything, though you're not sure how to go about it. Screaming you didn't mean it with your lips on his throat doesn't sound convincing in the slightest.

Well, at the very least it wasn't a full-blown I love you, right? You're still in the safe zone of 'liking' him, which, duh, obviously. People don't just go around deep-throating those they dislike. No, they probably do, but not you, not now, not with him.

Dick leans so close all you can see is his bright blue eyes that shine like bioluminescence against the sun-kissed copper of his skin.

"You like me," he states, and you can hear him grinning.

You roll your eyes.

"Would we be here otherwise?" you gesture at the 'kissing on the kitchen counter' of it all.

"You like me," he repeats.

He sounds positively giddy about it. Like schoolboy who just received his first Valentine ever.

You're pretty sure he heard this one many times before. And yet he's so unabashedly happy about it, like it really means a world to him.

He's horrible for your heart.

You sigh.

"Well, yes. Any opinions about it?"

"If you accept constructive criticism…" Dick starts with a smile. His nose gently rubs against yours. "I'd say there's a bigger goal to strive for… But for now 'liking' is already enough."

You pinch him.

And glare.

"If it's not mutual, I don't think we should continue," you say pointedly, silently seething.

Who answers to confessions like that?!

'You have much to strive for'!?

Dick sighs, caging you between his arms, his lips hot against your ear.

"It's okay. We don't have to stop. I can wait until you love me back."

Love me back.

Love me back.

Love. Me. Back.

Oh, fuck him.

You hide your face in his shoulder, biting on your lip not to cry.

As usual, Dick Grayson is nothing if not bad for your heart.

And you cannot help but love it.

And him.

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Jann — Emperor's New Clothes

Bow and smile And nod your head Approve, applaud Agree, don't ever Question the decisions of The high almighty God society

You'll be as a martyr to me Dying for the crowd that you lead Pedestal for you to believe You're the only king

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Regina Spektor — Two Birds

Two birds of a feather Say that they're always gonna stay together But one's never going to let go of that wire (oh-oh-oh) He says that he will But he's just a liar

Two birds on a wire One tries to fly away and the other Watches him close from that wire He says he wants to as well, but he is a liar

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Mitski — Abbey

I am something I have been something I was born something What could I be?

There is a light that I can see But only, it seems, when there's darkness in me There is a dream that I sometimes see That only appears in the dark of sleep

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IAMX — The Stupid, The Proud

God is dead, We get to sleep tonight, Walk with me into the truth, Out of your lies

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Jaymes Young — I'll Be Good

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times that I never could

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Mother Mother — Oh Ana

I'll be God I'll be God, I'll be God, I'll be God today Hold my head under the bath and breathe away Slit my wrists and watch that blood evaporate

I'll fake God I'll fake God, I'll fake God, I'll fake God today Hop up on a cloud and watch the world decay

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Eddie Vedder — Long Nights

Long nights allow me to feel... I'm falling...I am falling The lights go out Let me feel I'm falling I am falling safely to the ground Ah...

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Porter Robinson — Goodbye To A World

Thank you, I'll say goodbye soon Though its the end of the world Don't blame yourself now And if its true I will surround you and give life to a world That's our own

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The Choir, James Whitbourn — The Lamb

Little lamb who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead? Gave thee clothing of delight Softest clothing wooly bright? Gave thee such a tender voice Making all the vales rejoice! Little Lamb who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?

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Claire Boyer — Kitchen Fan Lullaby (Raw)

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Eurielle — City of the Dead

I'm scared of what's inside my head, what's inside my soul I feel like I'm running but getting nowhere Fear is suffocating me, I can't breathe I feel like I'm drowning, I'm sinking deeper

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half·alive — creature

I am creation both haunted and holy, made in glory Even the depths of the night cannot blind me, when You guide me Creature only

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Isak Danielson — Silence

It's hard to look It takes a lot of courage to see But open your eyes You'll be standing next to me Forget the words, they don't know what they're saying To save us all, it takes a lot of praying We have to Speak into the silence We never wanted violence We have to stay, unite No one left outside For us to overcome the things that we have done I want to see the change before I die and lose my voice

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Phildel — Icarus

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Two Feet — Play The Part

An intermission of your fate Close your eyes, god gives, or takes it away You try and forget all your hate Anger thrives, trapped in a steel crate

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Thomas Newman — Any Other Name

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Anson Seabra — Trying My Best

I know you think I got it all figured out 'Cause I walk around like my head's in the clouds But I'm just a boy with his heart pourin' out of his head I wish that you could see the pain that I've seen All of the times I spent being not me I hope you know that it's not always happy in my head

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Kalandra — Brave New World

Close your eyes and sleep Ignore all the burdens that you keep Come whatever may They could never harm you anyway Waking from the dream Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in The end is what you fear The scent of embers lingers in the air It's like a web there is no escape from It's got you trapped, and you long for freedom Every wish, every dream was granted Never knowing what they demanded

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Liana Flores — rises the moon

Days seem sometimes as if they'll never end Sun digs its heels to taunt you But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same Rises the moon Oh-oh, close your weary eyes I promise you that soon the autumn comes To darken fading summer skies Breathe, breathe, breathe

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Кристина Дзейтова — Грёза*

*the title translates as daydream, reverie, etc

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Dругой Ветер — Сны про бесконечность

Сны про бесконечность. Это сны про бесконечность. Там, где дни вписаны в вечность Пролегла полоса. Пульс на мониторах Бьётся секундам вторя. Я - твой космос. Ты - моё море. Так поднимай паруса. Ты меня не спасёшь. Я тебя не уберегу. Словно выброшенными на берег китами, Нас найдут поутру, прибитыми к берегу. Нас найдут поутру с зашитыми ртами.

Rough translation

Dreams about infinity. These are dreams about infinity. Where days are written in eternity There's a line. The pulse on the monitors Rhymes its beats with seconds. I am your space. You're my sea. So hoist the sails. You can't save me. I won't save you. Like whales stranded on a beach, They'll find us in the morning, nailed to the shore. They'll find us in the morning with our mouths sewn shut.

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Radiohead — No surprises

A heart that's full up like a landfill A job that slowly kills you Bruises that won't heal You look so tired, unhappy Bring down the government They don't, they don't speak for us

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Searows — House Song

Sound it out to an empty house Was it just like you had before? Savior pulled from an open mouth Did you want to be something more? Something is rotten inside of me I have to find it and cut it out, cut it out

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bo en — My Time

おやすみ おやすみ Close your eyes and you'll leave this dream おやすみ おやすみ I know that it's hard to do

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Kendrick Lamar — United In Grief (Intro)

"You have no idea how much I regretted not kidnapping you to go along," she sighed softly, nuzzling into him.

"Kidnapping me? You say most humorous things." He chuckled as his hands encircled her back. "As if you are able to force me do anything against my will."

Freya looked up.

"Is that a challenge?"

Malleus raised an eyebrow.

"Do you want it to be?"

She thought about it.

Last person hugging him was Lilia. He was muscle and bone, even after retirement, and Malleus knew he could stand being hugged back and not breaking. With Freya he had to be careful. Her softness made Malleus keep his arms taut to avoid bruising her.

"I think I like it more when you're doing things willingly," Freya decided. She hugged him close, rocking from leg to leg as she breathed hotly into his shoulder.

Malleus thought himself resistant to heat, but it crept through the layers of fabric, under his skin, scorching his heart. Without thinking he held her closer, fingers sinking into the welcoming pliancy of her flesh.

He remembered Ramshackle at night, when she wasn't there: quiet and bleak, lying in ruins. Same as it was before she came here, and yet not feeling the same.

Malleus folded around her, lips pressed against the crown of Freya's head.

"You should kidnap me along next time you disappear."

She laughed.

"I thought I cannot force you do anything against your will?"

"Hence why I am preemptively allowing you to do so."

"My, how generous of you."