A game of cat and mouse.
Dick Grayson x F!reader.
Content: A secret admirerâs love knows no bounds.
Word count: 1.2k
The city lights shone brilliantly in the dark of night, perched on a rooftop was the ex boy wonder, Nightwing. The harsh wind of winter blew in his hair, messing the strands of onyx out of their rightful place. He looked down to his escrima sticks, twirling it in one of his hands before gazing out to the city once more. It was nothing new, he thought. As much as he adored doing what he did, he couldnât deny it was rather tiresome most nights, and as skilled as he was, he was always subjected to a few injuries at best. He wiped the dried blood from his lip, graciously given to him from the previous wannabe villain gang. He couldnât help but grimace at the thought, so many criminals were emerging from seemingly no where, with no real motive other than wanting to be thorns at his side.
Once more, he swung into action. Slithering in and melting into the shadows, stealthily taking out any targets presented. He knew he should be focusing, knew he shouldnât be distracted, but all he could think about was her. The newest member of the Young justice, the most stunning woman heâd ever met, plagued his mind frequently. Her beauty was that of a siren, her voice the sweetest melody heâd been blessed to hear, and her eyes. Oh her eyes. He would dream of gazing into them during some not to innocent moments. He adored her, loved her even. She was perfect in his eyes, a dream turned reality for him. Not even the endless teasing from his teammates could deter him from clinging onto her, hovering around her whenever he could despite her protests. She was a bit of a loner, charismatic and seductive, yes. But she often chose to isolate herself whenever possible. Whether that was after missions, during patrols or during team building missions. So! He had to improvise somehow, right? He couldnât ever get more than a few words out of her, usually laced with snark and sarcasm. It was a game to him, multiple bouquets of flowers stuffing her room, to lavish jewels, beautiful hand written love letters to trinkets he believed sheâd indulge in. He never signed a name to his gifts, having to stifle a laugh and play coy whenever heâd catch wind of her frustration with her mystery gift giver.
But alas, he couldnât afford to be thinking about her. Not while he was currently dodging bullets and taking down men left and right. It was a constant, vicious cycle. One heâd been tangled with his entire life. Always having to perform, however that translated to. Circus or battlefield, it was draining regardless. Gods knew he deserved a break, a long vacation with the holder of his heart in a far away paradise. A man could dream. Soon enough, he finished his patrol gracefully, with many criminals that roamed the streets of Gotham now behind bars. Dick grappled back to Mount justice, entering the cave with haste, his eyes searching for her. He entered the common room, where his team was situated. Friends heâd fought with almost all of his teenage years, people for whom heâd led and supported. Thatâs besides the point, they arenât the main focus currently. Prior to returning, heâd managed the energy to buy another gift. An ethereal set of diamond necklaces, adorned with pearls that sat snug between the stones. A pretty red ribbon to secure the jewellery box and he was set! Admittedly, heâd spent many thousands on her, and this little habit of his has only started two weeks ago. Had he gone overboard? Of course not! How else would he acquire the love of such a beauty? He called out to his team, âEvening, guys!â, leaving the room before anyone could respond. Tiptoeing around the cave, he reached her room. Leaning his head against the door, he listened for any sounds or presence of life on the room, smirking victoriously when he confirmed she wasnât inside. He set her gift on her bed and took in her space. Her room reeked of goth, the tall black canopy bed with intricate engravings, the velvet black curtain drape of the bed adding a sense of both privacy and comfort. Her furniture vintage and Victorian looking, and candles accompanied by roses adorned every surface in view. So elegant, so her. Taking a rose, he placed it on top of the jewellery box, once more given with an unsigned identity. Sneaking out of her room, he went about his own nightly routine, showering and dressing himself before doing his hair. Always well kept, especially in her presence. It was rather cute, really. How heâd try to impress her every way possible, always so put together for her. Entering the kitchen, he took out many ingredients and began cooking, taking advantage that most teammates were now preparing to enter the nightâs embrace, leaving the only two insomniacs alone. A romantic dinner, for a hopeless romantic.
While he worked on dinner for the two, a nightly routine for the night owls, he hummed softly. His favourite part of the day, coming home and being able to spend time with her, wether he was the one cooking or not, her presence was enough to satiate the longing in his heart. Most of the time. Like clock work, she emerged from her room and graced Dick with her presence. Her stunning hair wet from her shower, and an almost tired look in her gorgeous eyes. His breath hitched when he caught sight of her. She belonged in a painting, he was sure of it.
âWhatâs on the menu tonight, master Grayson?â, she teased with a smirk that sent shivers of lust down his spine. âCarbonara, doll.â, his smooth voice rung out easily. She hummed in acknowledgment and sat down on the kitchen stool, chin in hand as she watched the man work. She had to admit, he was a sight for sore eyes. Muscles rippling under his shirt, his hair messily attractive after his bath, and his cologne wafting through the kitchen subtly in a way that almost made her want to kiss and mark him. Almost. But there was another pressing matter at hand, one sheâd been dying to figure out.
âDick.â
âYes?â
âIs it you?â
Now that caught him off guard. Did she know? Had she seen through his attempts at secrecy? âIs what me?â, he said nonchalantly, a skill heâd adapted over many years living alongside his brothers. âThe gifts. Is it you?â, her voice firm yet quiet. âI donât know what youâre referring to, doll. Youâve been receiving gifts? Should I be jealous?â, he casually shot back as a smirk tugged at his lips and sighed internally as she seemed to have bought it. He prepared her plate, giving her a generous amount of the food heâd made, and sat a wine glass down next to it, pouring only the finest wine heâd come across. A perk of being adopted by a billionaire, he supposed. Being able to decipher and build upon an extensive knowledge of the most refined beverages.
âCheers, love.â
My very first writing piece! Please let me know what you think or anything that could be improved! I hope youâve enjoyed! :3
