NAGUMOLVR

Theres a easier way tho

I could take one for the team and get you pregnant

I'll be strong for you

It's hard rasing a kid on your own

To all of that, he'd simply replied, It's raising, then went right back to patrol like you hadn't just offered to impregnate him.

"Sweetheart, there's a send button," he replies with the patience of a saint. Gunshots erupt in the background and there's a curse thrown carelessly.

You’re attempting to send him the playlist you had made. It was a mix of songs perfectly curated to ones that reminded you of your best friend. There was a lot of dad music, a touch of heavy metal. You were tempted to throw in a love song, but dealing with the aftermath of doing so held you back.

"Don't sweetheart me, the fucking thing isn't loading now," you groan, tapping aggressively.

"You know, that doesn't make it go faster, right?" He grunts. There's a loud boom from his side.

"Says the guy who broke my TV because he thought hitting it would bring it back to life," you retort, squinting at your phone screen. You go to turn the brightness down.

 "'M still better at technology than you," he says, then shouts, "Robin, I said on my left!" 

You hear Robin's voice, but you can't make out the words. Something insulting, probably. 

"Little shit can't even listen to basic instructions."

"Me or Damian?" you ask without missing a beat.

"Both."

Once the playlist loads, you tap the send button without much thought. "Kay, I did it, listen to it now," you demand, lying back down on your bed.

"Sure thing, doll. Lemme just stop the Joker from turning Gotham into his playground."

"Gotham's already his playground," you mumble. 

For a while, you're quiet, listening as Jason occasionally shouts orders through the comms. It should be unsettling. The gunfire, the crashes, the constant danger he's in. Instead, it lulls you to sleep. He's here, breathing, and on call with you like he didn't want to part either.

"You done yet?"

"I'm putting it on. Happy now?" His hoarse voice brings you out of your thoughts. It's deeper than it was before. Nicer, too. 

You grin, sitting up as your blanket pools around your hips. "Only if you come over too." 

"Demanding little thing," he scoffed. But you know he's already on his way. 

A few minutes pass. You can hear the distant hum of his motorcycle through the comms.

Then he clears his throat. "Baby making music?"

Horror crashes over you. You snatch your phone off the bed so fast it almost slips from your hands. "Shit,' you whisper, frantically searching for what you sent. 

And lo and behold, it's that playlist, not the one you'd carefully curated for Jason. "Jay, I can explain—

"Fucked my way up to the top reminds you of me?" There's laughter in his voice now.

"No!"

"Guilty as sin?" He snorts.

"Oh my god, Jason, stop." Your hands are covering your warm face, phone lying on your bed. You're never living this down. 

He pauses. "There's a lot of Lana Del Rey,"

You swallow, your fingers curl around your blanket. "Well," you start quietly. "Don't get it twisted, you're pretty Lana Del Rey, but your dad? He embodies a Lana Del Rey song—

"Stop talkin' about Bruce like that," he groans.

"Your dad's hot." 

"You're trying to change the subject."

"Your older brother's also hot." You muster up the courage to add, "and don't call me that."

"Doll," His voice isn't teasing anymore. It's lower, like that comment about Dick took away all the humor.

"I've run out of age appropriate family members," you swallow. Except Jason. But you couldn't exactly say that. "Does Kate count? Bruce's exes? cause they're fine as hell too."

He grumbles under his breath. "Open the fucking window."

"You're here?" You freeze, voice coming out breathless.

The window snaps open with a sharp bang. The sound travels all the way to your room. You close your eyes. Why did it feel like you were in trouble?

The thump of boots echoes through the room. When it finally stops, you open your eyes to find Jason leaning against your doorframe, arms crossed in a way that makes his muscles more defined under the fabric. He’s taken off his helmet, his hair slightly damp, strands falling messily over his forehead.

And his eyes.

They’re on you, fierce and darker than what you're used to, like he’s a second away from hauling your ass straight to Arkham. It sends a pleasant feeling through you. 

You laugh nervously. "Heyyyy, you're not still mad about me finding your brother—what the fuck are you doing—

He stalks over to you until he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to keep eye contact.

"You're acting weird," you tell him, trying to keep yourself still.

"That playlist—

"Was a random one I accidentally sent!" 

He tilts his head. “So. You wanna play me the right one now?"

He shifts, sliding onto the bed beside you, his shoulder bumping yours as he settles in. You grimace. No way he’s had time to shower, but you don’t move away. Not when he’s this close.

You give him one of your wired earbuds.

Your head bumps his when he puts his on. You bite back a smile at sharing earbuds with him.

You hit play on your phone, sneaking a glance at him, trying to read his reaction.

He’s already looking at you. Then he rolls his eyes and looks away.

“Can’t believe I remind you of a Radiohead song.”

“Would you prefer fucked my way up to the top?”

masterlist

once again i’m not sure what i wrote

"Sit down," you say, letting him sit on the toilet lid, looking around at you and all the hair care products.

"What is this about?" Jotaro opens his legs so you can stay up between them.

"You're hiding things from me." You point your finger right in the middle of his chest making his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"What..."

You tilt your head at him, smiling softly as your finger stays pressed against his chest. "You have curls, Jotaro. Real ones. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

He blinks once, then lets out a quiet sigh. "It's not a big deal. They get messy. I just gel them down."

"But they're beautiful," you whisper, stepping a little closer between his legs. Your hands rest gently on his shoulders, thumbs brushing over his warm skin. "Let me take care of them tonight. Please?"

Jotaro looks away for a second, jaw tight, but you know that expression. He's not mad, just a little embarrassed. He sighs again, deeper this time. "You're going to make a mess."

"I won't. I promise I'll be careful," you say, leaning in to press a ligth kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And if you hate it, you can put the cap back on right after. But I think you're going to like it."

He stays quiet for a moment, then grumbles under his breath. "Fine. Don't take too long."

You beam at him and reach for the spray bottle first, misting his hair gently until it's damp. He closes his eyes, letting you work, though every few minutes he makes a small comment.

"This feels weird," he mutters when you start scrunching the water out with a towel.

"Shh, it feels great," you answer softly, running your fingers through his curls to separate them. They're softer than you imagined, dark and springy, already starting to bounce back into shape.

You move through your routine carefully: a little leave-in conditioner, some curl cream smoothed in section by section, then a light gel to hold everything without making it crunchy. He sighs again when you twist a few pieces around your finger to encourage the definition.

"You're doing too much" he says, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at his lips now.

"Maybe i am," you reply, meeting his eyes for a second. "Because it's you."

The bathroom fills with the quiet sound of your hands working through his hair and the occasional soft comment from him. "That part's always the worst in the morning," he admits once, pointing to the back of his head where the curls usually flatten under his cap.

By the time you're done, you step back and grab the diffuser, gently drying everything until his hair looks full and alive. When you finally turn him toward the mirror, your breath catches.

His curls are perfect. Shiny, defined, falling in soft, dark spirals that frame his face just right. One piece still drops over his forehead like always, but now it looks intentional, romantic even. They catch the light with a healthy glow, bouncy and full of life.

Jotaro stares at his reflection for a long moment, he reaches up, touching one curl carefully scared to mess them up.

"See?" you say, wrapping your arms around him from behind. "They're gorgeous. You're gorgeous."

He lets out one last sigh, but this one sounds different, almost fond. His hand finds yours on his stomach and squeezes gently. "Maybe they're not so bad." He turns in your arms so he's facing you, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Thank you."

a/n: i love love love his curls I LOVE EM a/n 2: do we like this new layout mmmm

•───────•°• ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆•°•───────•

The war commenced shortly back after your arrival to the kingdom.

Your return to the castle took a little under two days as you unfortunately traveled the whole way  by foot. The failure of returning with Damian seemed to be the final straw for Ra’s and he sent assassins to begin with the invasion of Gotham.

It was a disaster.

Six months had passed in a blink. Gallons of blood stained the previously green meadows, invasions were planned on the daily, and troops were constantly being deployed.

It was a hell of your own making.

Ra’s assigned you to the head of your division.

Your current assignment was at a camp on the outskirts of Arkham.

The raid was to commence at dawn.

He wanted to send a message. The town would burn at the spark of daylight and they were to do nothing but watch. Watch as the failure of their kingdom burned to the ground.

It was all entirely unnecessary. Ra’s had been known for his flair of dramatics, he lived for the satisfaction of porving his power. He could get drunk of his demonstrations that spawned in response of underestimating the emperor.

The historical sighting was symbolic after all. It was where the King’s mother was born. She was a noble, born as the daughter of the Duke. There was a statute of the lady in the middle of town.

That was the last target.

It was timed perfectly. When the first of the troops arrived, they would watch the village disintegrate and see the statue crumble along with their last hopes.  

You had rehashed the plan for the seventh time today. It couldn’t fall short. There was no room for failure here.

You’d suffered enough last time.

The scars at the base of your back burn as a reminder.

“-understood?”

Your voice rings in the small circle. The team you were assigned spares you all small nods and huffs of agreement. They were exhausted. You all had been preparing since half past ten this morning, setting everything up. The moon was high in the sky now and they were sure to be dead on their feet.

“Okay, go on to your tents and rest up. We meet back in 5 hours.”

They don’t wait another second before disbanding, exhaustion paving the way to each of their beds. You were all highly trained, but fatigue didn’t discriminate. It was evident in their stances. The way they were hunched over, how their eyelids sunk.

The circumstances of the camp were inhumane. It was only supposed to be two nights.

It turned into two weeks.

Ra’s had another battle planned before Arkham in order to divide the Gotham’s armies. Preparation of that one took priority and postponed your return.

Once they have all retired, you throw the bucket of water on the fire you’d all been gathered around. The smoke curls in to the stars and you’re transported into another life for a moment. It’s barely a second but the Perseus constellation glimmered a little brighter and your lip twitches.

The world could be falling apart but when the sun fell and the stars came out it was a breath of fresh air. Because somewhere in the kingdom you swore to burn, there’s a man who’s looking at the same stars thinking of you.

As the last of the smoke dissipates, you stalk off north. Your tent had been at the head of the others. The gravel under your heels was almost comforting at this point. In the tracks of dirt, you could find the remnants of the footprints from every night you walked back to the tent.

It was a small ugly thing. you were granted the luxury of a solo tent, but not a regal one. Those were reserved for the armies. These had to be small and ready to pack at the earliest convenience for your group. They also had to be something that wouldn’t be missed at the possibility of abandoning it.

At your approach your thumbs tease the flaps of the tent. Right before pulling them back, your stomach drops. You could hear the quiet shuffling of someone in your tent. Stepping back you freeze for a moment.

One of these days luck was going to be on your side.

Rounding to the back, you take your father’s knife from your boots. You hadn’t sharpened it in the past few days but it was going to have to do. Approaching the back entrance you usually kept sealed, you could see that someone had slipped into it.

They were most likely waiting for you to enter through the front, which meant you were going to have to act fast.

In one fell swoop, you push past the slits of fabric and see the blur of a man before he’s pushed onto your sleeping bag. A knife at the base of his throat.

As your bodies thump to the floor, a scent of familiarity hits your senses.

Then in the dim light of a candle you definitely did not light, your heart drops to where your stomach just did.

Timothy Drake was in your tent wearing the smirk of a man who was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Oh my darling,” he breathes out from under you, a smirk pulling at his lips. “How I’ve missed you.”

“What are you doing here?” The dull steel is still pressed to his throat, as shock shakes through your limbs.

“I had to see you.”

At that, the knife falls from your grasp. It doesn’t cut him, but it falls dangerously close to his ear. In the wake of the anxiety and adrenaline coursing through your veins, your eyes shut and you fall against him.

It’s in that moment when your head falls to his chest, you realize how compromising this position is. Your legs were straddling his hips and sweat was about to coat your neck from the heat his body radiated. As if it wasn’t intimate enough, one of his hand falls to your hips and the other finds its’ way to your hair.

You shouldn’t relax, not really, but it was heavenly to be off for a brief flicker of time. You’ve been functioning at 115% for gods know how long. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept more than four hours.

“You shouldn’t be here.” You mumble aimlessly against the cotton of his tunic.

A small moan escapes you when his hands brush through your hair. The other one travels up your back to meet its pair at the base of your neck. His fingers start pressing into your shoulder blades giving you a small massage that has you on the verge of ascending.  

You’re positive you can hear the grin in his voice when he hums an, “I know.”

The vibrations from his chest ground you the moment. Proof that he’s really here, and the adrenaline spikes again as you freeze in place. He feels it and pauses for what couldn’t have been more than a second before he attempts to resume.

Pushing off him, with a pathetic effort at masking the fact your arms are like jelly, you hover over him. “I mean it Tim, you shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.”

And all he does is look at you like a lovesick puppy.

Your eyes are stone, gazing into the glimmering blue that you’ve spent years longing for. In a part of your heart you would never let see the light of day, you were happy he was here. Giddy almost that he went against everything to come see you, but that thought frightened you more. You couldn’t let him bear witness to it because it would only feed into this habit of his, and you had to break it. Even if it killed you.

“Tim, I’m being serious.”

There’s a small hum he allows, indicating that he’s listening somewhere in the back of his head. However his hands prove otherwise. One finds its way to your face, tracing the lines of your lips, the arch of your nose, and you feel the frustration starting to slip away.

“Timoth-”

And then he kisses you.

You could’ve been told that you were being born again and you would’ve believed it. This is what is must’ve felt like to be a phoenix rising from the ashes. It’s all consuming and enrapturing in the way he took your bottom lip between his. He was hungry and you were a woman starved. The fight in you died when he gasped your shared air. His hands roamed from your hair to your hips again, holding you impossibly close after a lifetime spent apart.

In one quick motion he’s flipped you on your back and your legs wrap around his waist keeping him against you. Heat starts to pool in the base of your stomach and you can feel his arousal on your thigh. His lips are yet to leave yours and he slips his tongue into your mouth with a groan. Your fingers pull at the collar of his shirt and his lips are swollen as they mold against yours.

You’re not entirely sure how long you stay like this with him. But when he does inevitably pull away from you, he’s flushed down to his chest. His chest rises and falls from above you, taking in a breath of shared air.

It’s nights like these you’re unsure how you survived the separation the first time. Timothy Drake-Wayne was the most addicting man you’ve ever met. Sharing air with him was the biggest blessing the stars ever granted you.

Another smile pulls at his lips and he’s kissing you again, more languid this time. He tastes like raspberries and mint.

“I missed you,” he humbles against you.

“As did I, my prince.”

Your eyes are still shut as he continues stealing kisses from your lips, but you feel the scrunch of his nose against yours. Another kiss. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Yes, and you know how I hate when you go against my orders.”

He groans and drops his body weight against you. He really should’ve known better if thought that he was going to get out of this with a few kisses.

“I knew it was foolish to expect you’d just be happy to see me.”

You scoff at his teasing, giving him a careful smack upside the head. His grin against your collarbone lights a fire in you before he drops another kiss.

“You know I always want to see you,” your hand remains on his head as it lands in his hair. Your fingers are carding through it and he moans against you. Then pulling at it, he attempts resistance and drops another kiss. That’s when you give it a harsher yank and he finally props himself up on his arms to look at you again. “But, I also have to think about reality since you seem so keen on ignoring it.”

“I’m not ignoring reality” he deadpans as his lips press into a thin line while raising an eyebrow. “I’m just not allowing it to dictate how I live my life.”

Then, he drops a gentle kiss to your forehead and you can’t help but notice how physical he’s being.

“You and I,” he begins while staring delicately into your eyes. He keeps switching between the two and you’re swimming in the blue of his. “We’ve spent so long hidden in the shadows of our world, loving each other in the palace of secrets. Just for once, I want to have what is mine and not let the world decide for me. Just for tonight, allow me that luxury.”

His words render you speechless. His eyes are pleading with the kind of agony that only you understand.

“When did you get so poetic?”

“When you told me you loved me.” He answers without missing a beat.

And with that, you push off the mat and meet his lips again.

Most of the night passes like that, with you in his arms and kissing him senseless. It was a small reprieve that the universe seemed to allow you, a tiny escape from the duties that will haunt you once morning comes.

His arms are snaked around your waist, his body warming you in the cold of the night. His lips are on your ear landing another kiss to you skin.

“I’ll be gone when you wake.”

“I know.”

You feel him swallow against you, the despair that weighs on his body form having to leave.

“Be safe, please.”

Your eyes were still shut when your lips twitch up. “Always my prince.”

He scoffs at your phrase but seals your promise with his lips against your temple before settling next to you. Then as a much deserved act of peace, your finally lulled under by the presence of the prince you were irrevocably in love with.

•───────•°• ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆•°•───────•

When you wake to the careful breeze that dances around the forest before dawn, you notice the absence of body heat before anything else. You knew he’d have to leave shortly after slumber meets you, but it never made it easier.

Maybe you were foolish for thinking this could work, that you could love each other on opposite sides of a war.

The careful shuffle of dirt outside tips you off that others were starting their day. Today was the raid after all. Taking in the last ounce of peace you’ll have for who knows how long, you roll off the floor. Pushing to your feet, your eyes are caught by a note tied with a periwinkle ribbon.

Of course he was still holding onto the damned thing.

The ribbon was one that was modeled into you in your youth. It was a staple of your wardrobe back in the kingdom. When you fled with half a decade ago, it flew off your hair and landed somewhere in the field.

By some miracle Tim found, lord knows how he managed it, but he held onto it. He held onto it for the four years you were without each other, doubting you would ever cross paths again.

The note has his neat letters scribbled onto it, a small declaration just for you. His promise of a life spent loving you immortalized on the back of a crumbling sheet of paper.

It was impossible not to smile when it came to him. Everything that surrounded Timothy Drake- Wayne was what you imagined a drop of sunlight would be like. Maybe love does make people weak. But if that was the cost of a life with him, you’d lose every battle if it meant coming home to him at nightfall.

Folding the paper into itself, you stuff it inside your shirt. Your fingers twirl the small ribbon in between each other. It’s frayed at the edges and the color has dulled significantly since you last wore it. As a token to your prince, you wrap it around your hair, holding it in place away from your face.

The slits of the tent act as a doorway back to reality. Here in this tent, Tim gave you the escape from your world for a few hours. He gave you a gift that was worth more than any amount of gold and silver could buy. A vacation from the responsibilities that weighed on both of you.

Steeling past the memories of your lover, you push past the fabric and feel the early morning air blow against your face. The weather seemed to understand what today was going to bring and decided to set the scene.

Fires are already lit for breakfast and at the opposite end the camp, you see a tent that wasn’t there when you retired a few hours ago. It was a deep maroon and grand enough to fit your whole squad. If the gold detailing embedded with the seal of the Al Ghul’s didn’t give it away, the royal guard posted out front did.

Your legs are rooted to the floor. The grass under your soles wasn’t as lively as it was yesterday. The past few mornings, it was green and swaying with the wind. However on this morning, it dimmed to a light brown and crunched under your boots.

One look at the guard posted out front had your dinner threatening to evacuate from your mouth. Holding eye contact with you, he nodded his head to the entrance of the emperor’s tent.

This would be fun.

On any other morning or any other mission, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Ra’s checked in on squads sometimes. It was a more common occurrence for him to send other higher ranked generals, but it was not unheard of for him to make an appearance.

Yet, with the audience you took last night, your stomach curled in dread.

Nodding at the guard, your posture did not change. Your back was still straight and your legs carried you across the line of tents with purpose. You belonged here. You were one of the most trusted assassins of Ra’s Al Ghul. You had trained to the point of almost losing your humanity. This was nothing more than a routine visit.

Pushing past the deep colored canvas, your met with none other than the emperor himself. The tent was bordering on empty with nothing but a handful of tables and chairs. That was to be expected though, the raid was to commence within two hours and you knew Ra’s would not stay for the aftermath. He would watch the world burn and retreat as the ash settled behind him.

At the first fall of your foot, the inhabitants of the tent lock eyes on you. Ra’s of course was standing at the head, regal as ever. There was no throne, no accessories, no robes that indicated he was emperor, but it was obvious in the way he held himself that power emulated from him. To his right, Talia was a few steps behind him. Today she shed the traditional royal garb she was rarely seen without. Her outfit consisted of a black tunic and trousers that clung to her curves as a mystifying distraction. It was times like these you understand the former king more and more. She was breathtaking.

Then the last member in the tent came as a shock to you. The dark hair braided down to her midback calmed your nerves a tad. While she didn’t turn to see you, you knew without a doubt that it was Dahlia.

Although she hadn’t been assigned to you for this particular raid, you still worked together fairly often. Seeing her here came with a bit of surprise. She was, for lack of proper terms, something similar to your right hand. When she had not been assigned to this mission, you didn’t think much of it, it was supposed to be less than seventy-two hours after all. But now, your curiosity peaked.

Your steps echo off the dirt in the constrained expanse of the tent. Standing parallel to Dahlia, you drop to one knee and bow your head.

“Welcome to camp your highness.”

Thankfully, your voice doesn’t convey the anxiety that’s about to bubble out of your throat.

“Rise.” Is his only response.

Pushing to your feet again, your arms cross behind your back. His gaze is unwavering as the green of his eyes dissect every part of you. You’re sure if he stared a few minutes longer he’d be able to see the memories from last night you tried to bury. However, the expression schooled on your face was void of emotion. You’d done this more times than you could count.

“Relay the specifics of the raid to the girl.”

And for the first time in the eyeline of the emperor, your face betrays you. Never once had you outwardly reacted to an order of his. Never had you entertained the idea of giving him an expression to exploit you with. But in this moment, your eyebrows rise and you pause.

With the subtle twitch of his lip you trained yourself to never miss, you know you’re screwed.

“Yes sir,” your chin drops with subtle nod.

While explaining the specifics to Dahlia, your eyes never leave his. For years, you carved everyone has subtle micro expressions to your brain, the small giveaways that convey his true feelings. Most days, they saved you. Today however, it had doom crawling from the leather of your boots.

Once you finish explaining the plan, you sense bile at the bottom of your throat. You tried not to think about how the trees surrounding the village will be lit first, to ensure the villagers don’t make it out. This plan was as cruel as it was effective, and you knew you’d be maimed for it once the war was over. The first trees line the outskirts of the forest were dead, making for them to be an easy target as they would spread easier.

There was a small secret you didn’t share with the emperor. A small grace to save your humanity.  

In the town of Arkham, it’s known that there is an underground. A tunnel that allows an escape to a few villages over. The entrance lays in the center of the town where the statue of the former Queen stands.

Talia knew this fact as well as you did. It was one of the secrets trusted to those who roamed the castle. The King enjoyed visiting his mother’s village often, which meant for sure she had seen the underground with her own two eyes. They’d created it in case an attempt on their lives was ever made in the town.

However, when the plans rose, you never mentioned it. And neither did she. A small mercy from both of you. While Gotham is no longer your home, it is home to the men that hold your hearts. It was then you saw that you and her were two sides of the same coin.

She loved her ex-husband as you loved your prince.

Yet, loyalty remained your downfall.

In your periphery, right behind him, you see her eyes on you. They’re hard and unwavering, then there’s her jaw. It’s clenched in a way that to any of the other assassins or subjects, would look neutral. However, spending years as her lady’s maid and under her mentorship, you knew better. She was distraught. It was in the subtle dimple on her chin from the frown she tried to hide.

It unnerved to not be able to place why.

There was something more here that hadn’t been revealed yet. The hand hadn’t been shown and this wicked game of cards was getting less entertaining by the second.

Finishing your explanation, your eyes remain on the Demon’s Head. He hasn’t spared you the mercy of another twitch of his lips. It was horrific how unpredictable he was. Only proving that point, your rendered speechless when he turns to Dahlia.

“Do you understand the plan?”

“Yes.” She answers instantly. There’s a quiver in her voice she gave a valiant effort to hide by being addressed by the emperor. But you didn’t miss it, it would be a disgrace if you trained her for years and didn’t recognize it.  

“Good. You will lead it.”

Silence.

Nobody moves, no voice rings, no hair is out of place as confusion warps both of you. There’s just the subtle slaps of feet outside the tent with the last of the preparations and packing for the day.

Then after a beat too long, she dips her chin. “Yes, emperor.”

His lips press together and he nods at her. “You are dismissed. Go and prepare, you have a long day ahead of you.”

That springs her into action and she drops to one knee before rushing out the tent. She heard what he didn’t say. You both did.

Don’t’ let me down.

Getting an assignment from the emperor was as exciting as it was petrifying. A chance to prove yourself with the gut-wrenching fear that it may go south. Because when these missions failed, you didn’t answer to a soldier or a general, no you answered to Ra’s Al Ghul himself.

And there was nothing worse than that fate.

When the flaps swish to a close with her exit, you remain in your position. Unmoving, you hold his gaze. This is what you imagine staring death in the face must have felt like. You’d done it countless times, every assassin had- but fear had never been in that mix before. Now it is.

This wasn’t a routine visit. Deep down you knew it from the moment the air of the tent brushed your skin.

It was an ambush.

He’s the first to move. He holds his palm out behind him to where Talia is standing dutifully. She drops something into his palm that you can’t see. Your throat is cold and you can feel your heart beating behind your eyes.

Then, in one rapid movement, his fingers uncurl when he stretches his arm out to you.

In his right palm lies the Wayne Family signet ring.

The ring that Tim gave you six months ago as a promise.

All your training from the league has led up to this moment. Your thankful for it because the only reaction that you give is the uncontrollable color draining from your face. You’re positive that your lips have gone blue, but your features remains impassive.

“It’s interesting,” he begins, and your pride and strive for survival begin to battle in between your ears. “One of the maids was cleaning your room yesterday. While she was sweeping the floor, the rag got caught on a loose floorboard.”

You feel your breath threatening to come out uneven but you don’t let it. Controlling it, your chest stutters. This moment was going to be one of the most challenging things you were going to face today.

“And you are well aware, as am I, that my fortress does not have loose floorboards. Then, to my surprise,” he starts taking steps in your direction and your chin angles up to look at him in the eye. If this is death, you will not face it with fear. Your honor has been bred and nurtured too long to perish in vain.

“When she looks it she finds something, and I am approached with a ring. And not just any ring, no, a signet ring. The Wayne’s signet ring.” The name spills like poison off his tongue. “Now, I was aware that you had some level of involvement with someone over the border, someone of high rank.”

Your features are stone as you fight a faint. Nerves were sparking through your limbs and you couldn’t blink. Yet, you would stick it out to the end.

“But a prince? Oh not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine you would betray your land in such a way.” Now you understand Talia’s distraught.

“I had hoped that you would come to me eventually. That you would approach me with a plan to infiltrate the castle, that I had not misplaced my trust in you. So I waited, I held my breath with every audience of yours to reveal the secret you thought you kept.”

“But now I see, that the fool,” he pauses and his finger rests right under your chin, before the rest of them grip your jaw. “Was I.”

He whispers the words, but they may as well have been screamed. A bomb could’ve gone off and you wouldn’t have known the difference.

“This ring,” he holds it up right above the bridge of your nose. Your eyes cross and you can’t quite focus on it. The world begins to spin beyond him. “What does it mean?”

His fingers are still digging into your jaw. The words won’t come out and he only grips harder.

“What does it mean?” He speaks louder now. You both know what it means. Despite his claim, he’s no fool.

“Betrothment.”

The words are a whispered shot. To the forehead or heart? You don’t have the luxury of knowing. You just know there’s not one atom of your body that doesn’t feel defeat and pain lingering in it.

His face contorts with the confirmation of his suspicions. Letting go of you face, you don’t move. Not a muscle. He wants weakness and he wants begging.

And you won’t give it to him.

He knows that.

It’s why he chose you for your role. You’ve never begged for mercy. Never begged for an apology. To his knowledge, you’ve never begged in your life. Not when your parents died. Not when you were going to be separated from them. Never. In reality though, you’ve done it once.

You did it in the face of the man that you’ll die for.

A smile creeps onto his face, and it’s not one you’d long to be on the receiving end of. No, it’s one that has venom in his eyes and malice in his lips.

“Well then, the solution is simple.” he turns to Talia for a moment. You’d forgotten she was there. Stealing a glance at her, your heart finally shatters after the cracks splintering it. She’s wrecked. Obviously not outwardly, but you can tell. Her shoulders are slouched, her eyes aren’t hard, and her hands are loose at her side. Maybe it’s the candle playing tricks on you, but you swore her pupils are glossed with something that may be a tear.

“We’ll kill you.”

Your eyes shut in resignation and a sigh is exhaled through your nose. The second display of emotion you’ve allowed him. If it was any other circumstance you would be admonishing yourself over it. But this is it. So, there’s not much shame to be spared now.

“Understood.” Is your response. If he wants the satisfaction of a scene that he’s going to kill you, he won’t get it. You knew the risks of loving your prince. You knew the possibilities. Now it’s time to face the music.

Your life. Your love. Your consequence.

He hums while turning around, facing you again. Even with the betrayal, he manages some respect for you. You’ve always taken his judgement in grace.  

He outstretches his hand out to Talia again, palm wide and expectant. You weren’t sure what to expect. A dagger? A sword? An arrow? So when her hand sinks into the pocket on her belt and pulls out a flask, you almost cry.

They were going to poison you.

You shouldn’t have expected anything else. A part of you hoped it would be swift and painless, a beheading would be mercy. Yet that was too big of an ask. Not even in the respect of the years you swore your life and duty to him, would he grant you such charity.

They were going to make this long and drawn out.

As he steps toward you again, you’re surprisingly calm. It was odd, you always thought you’d be anxious in death. That when your luck finally ran out, your heart would attempt to break out of the cage of your ribs and run. In spire of that belief, your mind is quiet. Your breathing is controlled and you’re last thoughts are of Tim.

Of his luscious hair, of the beauty mark on his temple, of the smile he shied away from.

As Ra’s approaches you, you don’t hear the words he’s saying. You hear the sound of Tim’s breathing in your ear from the night before. You hear the quiet promise of “I love you,” that he repeated like a mantra.

And when the man you obeyed without question unscrews the bottle, you hold your breath. He holds the rim right under your nose and one waft turns your vision to black with Tim’s promise repeating in your ear.

•───────•°• ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆•°•───────•

A cold splash of water is what brings you to consciousness again.

Your eyes flutter open and dawn creeping above the trees is the only indication that time has passed.

The next thing your eyes land on is the village in front of you.

Arkham.

The rest of your senses seem to catch up and your hands are met with resistance. Your wrists are tied together and pinned above you. There’s another rope at your waist and one for each ankle. The bark stabbing you in the back is the last piece needed to paint the scene.

They were going to burn you alive.

“My original idea,” a voice hums from your left. Ra’s drops the bucket to the side. Water is dripping down your forehead into your eyes. Blinking it away isn’t working, leading to you shutting your eyes to numb the uncomfortable sting.

“Was to exploit you. Imagine it, just for a second. Picture the three of us arriving at the castle. The look on the King’s face as it’s revealed that third of his sons is involved with my highest ranking assassin.”

“It’s not him.” You spit out, water still trickling down your face.

How could he know which one it was? He didn’t say Tim’s name back in the tent, he’s guessing. One of your limited virtues was that you were never a liar, but for Tim… you would do anything to protect him. You had to make sure that he doesn’t get caught, that this doesn’t tie back to him. If it does, he’ll be hung or killed for treason.

Your head hangs and it’s angled to the floor. Your eyelids are still pressed together when you hear him stalk toward you. “Don’t lie to me girl, it won’t do you any good now.”

He grips your jaw again and pushed your head into the tree. With the other hand, he uses his pointer and middle finger to pry your eyes open. Meeting his gaze, spite is dripping from his pupils like water is dripping from yours.

“Do you think of me so naïve to not have ruled out which beloved prince was yours? It is that Drake boy, and it would serve you well to not do him the injustice of denying him in death.”

There’s nothing left for you to say now. He’s right. You shouldn’t deny him, not if he knows.

“I do hope you are aware that I considered it. I considered giving you the gift of seeing him one more time, to truly throw it in the King’s face when his son’s eyes light with recognition. But death,” he pauses, pondering for a moment. “It is a much sweeter vengeance.”

“And now,” he turns away from you to watch the first tree opposite of you catch fire. “You will feel every spark of fire burn through your skin, your veins, and your organs for the sheer audacity of betraying your people.”

With that, he leaves. He spares you no more attention and departs the scene.

Your head falls back against the wood. The embers ahead of you fly into the sky as they spread to the surrounding trees. It’s only a matter of time before they reach you.

It’s almost beautiful. The sun rising with the fire. If it wasn’t so cruel, you’d be enamored. It was the rise of a new day in hell.

The crunching of leaves sounds somewhere to your right, even so you can’t bring yourself to look. If Ra’s was going to have another monologue, he would have to pry your eyes open again. You didn’t want him to be the last thing you see on this earthly plane.

It isn’t until they stop directly in front of you and a soft palm caresses your cheek that you decide to open your eyes. Talia’s blocking your view of the end of the world. A small grace that Ra’s would surely berate her for later.

“It seems as though my biggest curse,” her eyes are tearing up for sure now. Even past the sting of yours, you can see the way hers are glossy with unshed remorse. “Is to not be able to protect my children.”

Her fingers wipe your eyes at an attempt of comfort. There’s a sad smile she gives you before dropping a kiss to your hairline.

“I hope you can keep yours.” She whispers, and confusion settles into your bones. Then, it’s suddenly clear as her other hand reaches to your left. Onto your ring finger, a cold metal band is slipped onto it.

The godforsaken ring.

You never realized that she didn’t keep hers. You assumed she just wouldn’t wear it because she was no longer with the King. It never occurred to you that she may have had it taken from her.

Right before she departs, both her hands cup at your cheeks.

“I am proud of what you became.” Her voice is so earnest that this, this is what finally pushes you to cry. “Even now, with everything that’s come to light. I am proud of my darling.”

Her hands fall from your face and you hate how cold it suddenly gets. It’s selfish, but you wish she could stay here with you. It’s been so long since you were on the receiving end of comforting words from a mother, you felt impossibly small again.

There was no fear in dying, but there was fear of never knowing this type of domesticity again. If she sat here and talked you through it all, maybe death wouldn’t be so bad.

“Be safe please.” Are her parting words.

That left you more dazed than before. And then, as if an angel descended from the sky, she retrieves your father’s dagger from her belt. They must have disarmed you when they knocked you out.

And she places it in your hands.

•───────•°• ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆•°•───────•

Tim had been attending his princely duties all day.

He’d begrudgingly left your tent at what he guesses was half past three in the morning. The ride on horseback did him no favors. His back ached from the bumpy trails that lined the outskirts of the kingdom. Riding from the castle to Arkham was usually a full days trip and he’d done it twice in one night. Robin, his trusty steed, was not amused with the excursion. She was now retired to her stable with many apples as a treat for her work.

This has been Robin’s third time taking him to visit you.

He longed to see you for longer than a few hours, to hold you every night and kiss you every morning. That just wasn’t in the cards for you yet.

When he snuck back into his room, he hadn’t even had the chance to get under the covers before the faithful knock on the spruce door started his day.

Dusk was creeping into the sky now and he was going on hour thirty seven with no sleep. He finally finished his studies for the night, his father asked him to read up on the history of relationships with countries to the west. The alliances were a mess recently, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to aid in their reparations.

He was on his third black tea of the session and needed a break. With a quiet thump, the absurdly thick book he was reading shuts.

Tim’s hand rubs at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder and falls back. Turning his face to the side, he sees the window from all those years ago. He’s half convinced you were carved in every wall in this castle. He still remembers how warm you were when he wrapped himself around you, staring at the stars casting them to memory.

He studied at the same desk every time, in the same chair you always used to. Every aspect of his life was a quiet dedication to you.

Peering through the window, he watches the same constellations glimmer in the sky that shone from that night. After a moment or two of letting nostalgia flood his veins, he finds the nerve to stand. He would most likely return to this spot after dinner, so he leaves the notes carefully organized on the table.

Weaving through the shelves of the library, he’s met with a cold draft as the double doors push open. The candle of the library kept his face warm through the session he hadn’t realized how chilly the castle had actually gotten. The last colors in the sky were dimming to the inevitable grey that took over every night. As the moon rose in the sky, he realized it was a crescent shape tonight, emitting little light.

The padding of his shoes echoed off the stone walls in the corridor. Tim barely turned the second corner, one hallway away from the dining hall, when a large hand wraps around his bicep.

Startled, his body whips around, not to his own accord however. Bumping into the large figure. he’s met with the scarred face of his older brother.

Jason.

His eyes were set in a way that was bordering haunted. He had his shoulders boxed out and his neck was turned down in a way that made him look like he was trying to fight himself. Jason was by far the loudest of them on a normal day, but he hadn’t had one of those in a while. He was a ghost most of the time, only being heard if he wanted to be.

“Holy-” Tim breathes out, his free hand clutching at his chest. “Why’d you scare me like that?”

“We have to talk.” Jason’s throat bobs notably going straight to the point.

“Okay,” Tim drags out the last letter, unsure why Jason looked like he was about to collapse on the spot. When he had flashbacks or nightmares, he usually went to Dick. He and Tim were never the closest. They talked sure, but Jason mostly asked him about what he was doing. Never spending much time doting on himself. “Can it wait until after dinner?”

“No.” His voice is panicked and his eyes widen a bit.

“Okay, okay.” Tim tries to reassure him, while pulling his arm out of the grip that was now battling a bruise. “We can talk, but we’ll most likely miss the first course of dinner.”

“That’s fine,” Jason’s waves mindlessly before his arm falls to his side, his hands clench and unclench from a fist. He looks out the window and for a second, the light makes him look younger. For a moment, he doesn’t look like the haunted soul of a man attempting to escape his mind. In this hallway, he’s a spitting image of their father before the years caught up to him.

“You may want to take a seat.”

“Jason,” Tim warns, crossing his arms. While his heart starts thundering between his ear drums, anxiety pools in the pit of his stomach. Hr was always a little off, but this was pushing it. “Spit it out already.”

“It’s in regards to your lady.”

Tim swore he stopped breathing. The world around him tilted on its axis and he could no longer see straight. It was impossible, they couldn’t know. Could they? How many of them did? How long had they known? He felt suspended in time and he feared it would never continue.

“Timot-”

“I don’t know who you speak of.” His voice came out wobbly, yet he had to try regardless. He had to try and deny it.

Not for his sake, but for yours.

He could handle whatever lecture advising against this from his father, he could take the judgmental looks, but he couldn’t take your life. If you were to be discovered to have a romantic engagement with him, it would cost you everything. And he wouldn’t able to live with himself. As much as he complained, he was ready to make the sacrifice of loving in the dark. Even if it meant he had to leave in the morning. He would live his life without ever taking a wife if that’s how he had to show his devotion to you.

“Don’t mistake me for a fool and stop playing coy,” Jason’s eyes were boring into him, and Tim hated that he now understood the concern. “You know whom I speak of, otherwise there would be no reason for your face to be suddenly void of color.”

Your name fell from Jason’s lips and every syllable lands in his ear like an arrow to the heart.

His chest was rising unevenly. Tim could no longer understand anything else that was happening around him and was solely focused on the words coming from Jason’s mouth.

“Ho-” his voice breaks and he takes a deep breath. “How do you know of her?” Tim stumbled back, catching himself on the wall with his arm.

Jason takes pity on him for the first time since pulling him aside in the hallway. His head cocks to the side and his eyes cloud with something Tim chooses not to identify. “It was a few years ago, when she and Talia still resided here. I went to the library to pick out a book because sleep wasn’t coming easy to me and you were both there. I assume you were studying for one of Barbara’s exams, it was obvious that you cared for each other in how you both looked and held the other. Then after that, it was impossible to miss. You both always snuck away at the same time. When you entered a room, you sought each other’s eyes out first before anything.”

Tim had never been more grateful that he decided to skip his lunch for the day. If he hadn’t, he’s positive Jason would be wearing it right now. He knew. He’s known for seven years that you were involved.

“Who else have you t-”

“To my knowledge, no one else knew of the relationship you hid with your assassin. I did my duty to have guarded that secret well.” Jason cuts him off, not letting him even finish the question.

He feels himself begin to sway. His legs are turning to mush and his throat dries out at Jason’s use of past tense in order to refer to your relationship. He’s not sure if he even wants to ask, but he steels past his fear with worry of your well-being.

“What news do you bring?”

Jason’s hand grabs onto Tim’s bicep again, almost as if to offer him support.

“Tim, I need you to sit-”

“Jason, enough.” His voice shakes with a desperation he hasn’t felt in years. It was like he was eighteen all over again, finding out that you had fled Gotham in the explosion. “What happened to her?”

Jason closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. A stark contrast to Tim who’s breathing too quickly and who’s eyes are about to bug out of his head.

For a second, it’s deadly silent. The crickets on the windowsill composing what may as well be a death march. And then,

“They killed her.”

It’s instant how Tim’s knees buckle to the cobblestone lining the floor. There’s tens of rushed “no’s” that leave his lips as he collapses into himself. Nothing felt real, he didn’t know tears were streaming down his face until Jason began wiping them. He couldn’t feel Jason’s arms around him, but the warmth of his body heat was there contrasting the freezing pain that flooded him. He knew logically, that all these things were happening, that his body was reacting, but his brain hadn’t caught up. The only thing he knew was that his heart ached in a way he never thought possible.

His eyes were screwed shut and he shook his head, not allowing himself to believe this. He can’t imagine he looked all that different to a child having a tantrum- yet he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Every aspect of his life revolved around you, everything he did was in hopes of being with you.

And now?

He- he didn’t even want to think about this reality, couldn’t allow himself too right now.

“The knights who returned an hour ago from the raid,” Jason’s voice cuts through Tim’s thoughts. “They were discussing how the town was practically decimated. Rumors were spreading from the townsfolk,” he swallowed thickly. “Of one of the assassins being burned at the edge of the fores-”

“They burned her at Arkham?” His voice is wrecked.

They betrayed you on your own mission. You, who wouldn’t truly be with him because of your loyalty. You, who did everything in the name of the Al Ghul’s. You, who wouldn’t come back to Gotham because you were sworn to your homeland.

You were killed by the people you swore to protect.

Tim was going to be sick.

“Yes,” Jason answers simply. There’s a wrinkle of concern that spawns in between his eyebrows. He lived through horrors, things none of the Prince’s would ever see. But this? This was one of the most painful things Jason was sure he’d ever had to do. He had to look his little brother in the eye and tell him that the love of his life was dead.

“I was going to hold off on telling you of the rumors at first, because I was not sure if they had any truth behind them- or if it was even her.” Jason brushes the hair out of his face, while Tim’s eyes pour a river of tears. “Then I spoke with the General, and a soldier found the remains of a ribbon.”

Jason’s hand sinks into the pocket of his trousers, and Tim’s breath catches in his throat halfway through a sob. He wants so desperately to close his eyes and forget this nightmare he called home, but they won’t close. His pupils are locked on Jason’s wrist, a sick part of him already knowing what he’s about to retrieve from his pocket.

When he sees Jason’s fingers wrapped around the periwinkle ribbon he returned to you mere hours ago, Tim’s head falls against Jason’s chest.

A sob breaks loose and it echoes off the castle walls that will be forever haunted by the sound of your laugh.

•───────•°• ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆•°•───────•

A/N: hey.... soooo sorry for the angst BUT there is still one more chapter and i PINKY PROMISE there is a happy ending waiting for these two. i just didn't want to make you guys wait longer for another chapter.

You’re so zoned in on your book you barely hear the window snap shut when Dick enters. You do, though. Your eyes fluttering over to him for that brief second tells him you had heard him come in and were electively choosing to ignore his return. 

Your book was just getting to the good bit. The male lead had just confessed his feelings, his desires, buttons were coming undone, lips were locked. Zippers were undone. 

Dick’s first mistake was trying to take the book from you by force. One hand around the spine of the book, slowly threatening to snap it shut as he attempts to inch it out of your grasp.

“I’m reading, Dick,” you hum, eyes still skimming over the words half-mindedly as you tug the book further from his fingertips. His head tips forward with a groan, falling until it’s pressed against your navel above the covers. He’s still half-standing, half-kneeling at the edge of the bed. Ready to snatch your book away and stow it on the dresser where you can’t grab it from the bed. 

He noses his way up your sheet-covered sternum until he’s headbutting the paperback. Another grunt.

“Baby,” he purrs, low and silken. His lips have now replaced his nose in his trail despite the roadblock. You decide to placate him with a hand in his hair, the other spread wide to keep your pages from fluttering shut. Not yet deterred, he crawls further on the bed to attack you from the side this time. Kissing and nipping his way up your shoulder until you have to tilt your neck to look around him to see the pages. 

“I have like ten pages left of this chapter,” you say as you try to shove his forehead out of the way. 

“You know, once upon a time you would’ve jumped me the second I crawled through the window,” he grumbles. “Does the suit do nothing to you now? Are you immune to my charms?”

“The suit is great,” you say. 

“Real convincing.”

“Just go take a shower. I’m sure I’ll be done by the time you get back and you can have me all to yourself,” you say. Shit. You lost your place. Your eyes quickly skim back across the paragraphs to find the last bit you remember actually reading. 

“We both know that you’re going to start the next chapter while I’m in there,” he says. His teeth find purchase just below your ear. “Pay attention to me, baby.”

“I will.” You flip a page. “In eight pages.”

A louder groan as he presses his face further into your neck. 

“They’re like two seconds away from fucking, Dick,” you say.

“We could be like two seconds away from fucking in real life if you would just look at me,” he huffs, though his seduction attempts have settled. If he weren’t still suited up for crime-fighting, you figure he might have fallen asleep where he was. He settles for draping an arm over your waist and fiddling with the shirt you’d stolen from him as his gaze skims over the various erotic phrases in your book. 

“Did he just bite her? Is she bleeding?” he asks. “Is she into that… Scratch that, are you into that?”

“He’s a vampire,” you snort. 

“So you’re definitely into that then,” he says in the absence of your no.

“No- well, I mean… It’s hot in theory,” you hum. 

“You want me to bite you is what I’m hearing,” he says. His hips shift and you can feel the stirring of his dick against your thigh. 

“I feel like you want to bite me, mister,” you laugh.

“I wanna do whatever you want me to do,” he laughs, too, but you can tell he means it all the while. His teeth graze the junction of where your shoulder meets your neck and you know he can feel the shiver it shot down your spine when he grins against your skin. “You do like that. Is that all it takes, sweetheart? A little bit of teeth and you finally give me a reaction.”

Harder, this time, he bites down on your exposed flesh. Not even to harm, or even really to mark, but enough for you to feel. Fingers dance along your naval as he tugs your shirt up just enough to find bare flesh. The pads of his gloved fingers press into your skin and it’s nearly enough to pull you from your book. Nearly. You can’t fight the nagging voice in your head that urges you to keep going. To see if the characters will just finally-

“Oh,” you gasp when Dick nips at your pulse point. Your eyes grow lidded when he begins to suck and your head tilts to give him more room. Finally, when your brain’s gone mushy enough to stop even trying to move your eyes across the inky blob of words, Dick’s hand swiftly comes up to pluck the book from your grasp and snap the book shut. He tosses it towards the edge of the bed, immediately shifting to fill the space above you it had previously been occupying. Knees bracketing your hips, lips moving along your jaw, your cheeks, then finally, your lips.

“—and that brings us to the Q3 deliverables,” your boss continued, oblivious.

You forced a nod, trying to keep your face neutral while Dick slowly lowered himself into a full split on the floor, then rolled into a smooth back handspring. He landed silently, shot you a cheeky wink, and immediately launched into a series of pushups on your kitchen counter.

Your cheeks burned. You muted your microphone for a second and hissed under your breath, “Dick, I swear—”

He blew you a kiss, walked over to the door of the room, and did a one-armed pull-up on the doorframe, shirtless back muscles rippling. The audacity.

You unmuted just in time to answer a question about timelines. Your voice was steady, but your leg was bouncing under the desk. Dick noticed and grinned wider. He dropped down and started doing slow, deliberate push-ups right in your line of sight, counting them out silently while maintaining eye contact with you.

One… two… three…

You were going to kill him.

After the meeting dragged on for another fifteen agonising minutes, you finally closed your laptop with a sigh of relief. The second the camera turned off, you spun in your chair.

“Dick Grayson, I am going to murder you.”

He was mid-handstand again, grinning upside down. “But you looked so cute trying to stay professional. I couldn’t help it.”

You stood up, crossing the room. He flipped down gracefully and caught you around the waist before you could swat him.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled, but you were smiling despite yourself. His skin was warm from the exercise, and he smelled like citrus soap and that faint scent of sweat that always made your brain a little fuzzy.

“I was lonely,” he said, nuzzling into your neck. “You’ve been in meetings all morning. I missed my favourite coworker.”

“You’re not my coworker,” you laughed, letting him pull you closer. His hands slid under your work blouse, palms warm against your bare back. “You’re my very distracting boyfriend who almost made me blush on camera.”

Dick’s grin turned mischievous. “Almost? Damn. I’ll have to try harder next time.”

You swatted his chest, but he just laughed and lifted you effortlessly, spinning you once before setting you on the kitchen counter. He stepped between your legs, hands resting on your thighs.

“I’m serious,” you said, poking his chest. “I have another meeting in thirty minutes. Behave.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Thirty minutes is plenty of time for me to behave… or misbehave. Your choice.”

You shivered at the low tone in his voice. His hands slid higher on your thighs, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just under the hem of your skirt. The touch was teasing, affectionate, full of promise.

“You’re going to be the death of my productivity,” you murmured, but you were already tilting your head to give him better access to your neck.

He kissed the spot just below your ear, soft and lingering. “Worth it.”

For the next twenty minutes, Dick was the perfect distraction — sweet kisses, gentle touches, whispered compliments that made your cheeks warm. He never pushed too far, always checking in with soft eyes and a playful smile. When your next meeting reminder pinged, he groaned dramatically but stepped back, hands raised in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Go be responsible. I’ll be here, waiting patiently.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Patiently?”

He grinned. “Mostly patiently.”

You kissed him one last time — quick and sweet — and returned to your desk. The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings, but every so often you’d catch Dick doing something ridiculous in the background just to make you smile: juggling oranges, balancing on one hand while reading a book, or doing slow, dramatic somersaults across the living room.

By the time you finally closed your laptop for the day, you were exhausted but happy. Dick was waiting on the couch, arms open.

“Come here,” he said softly.

You crawled into his lap, letting him wrap you up in a warm hug. He kissed the top of your head, then your temple, then your lips — slow and sweet, like he’d been saving it all day.

“I love you,” he murmured against your mouth. “Even when you have to work and I have to be patient.”

You smiled, nuzzling into his neck. “I love you too. My very distracting, very acrobatic boyfriend.”

He chuckled, hands stroking your back. “I’ll take that title.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time — tangled together on the couch, the city humming far below, the afternoon light turning golden through the windows.

Dick Grayson might be the golden boy of the Titans team, the charming Wayne boy, the hero who saved everyone else.

But with you, he was just Dick — the man who did handstands in the living room to make you laugh, who waited patiently when you had to work, and who loved you with a bright, unwavering joy that never dimmed.

And you?

You were exactly where you wanted to be.

With your favorite distraction.