chernayawidow - Tumblr blog

chernayawidow · 7 months ago

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I adore this so very much, and I think you explored this topic so so beautifully 🫶 I love your characterisation of Dick, and him saying “but only from the people I actually want touching me” made my heart absolutely hurt for him.

And I love to see good dad Bruce! Overall, I look forward to seeing anything more you do with this 🙏

When You Say: "You're so pretty"

[Dick Grayson x Reader]

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: Unwanted touching (not directed at reader), anxiety

A/N: I'm experimenting... This has the potential to be a mini series (different sentences for each chapter), so let me know what you think!

The charity gala was in full swing, a five-star hotel ballroom fit to burst with designer gowns, bespoke suits, and self-congratulatory smiles. Dick had already heard at least ten passive aggressive comments about the less-than-exclusive guest list. There were tourists here, for God’s sake. Rich tourists. But tourists all the same. They’d had to introduce themselves. Can you even imagine?

Quite frankly, Dick wished he could imagine.

Sometimes he managed to have some kind of fun at these things, gratified by the ease with which he could pull the strings, charm massive sums of money from the pockets and bank accounts of the glitterati. Because he was damn good at it, trained early and well, with the added advantages of humor and youth.

Tonight was not one of those times. He felt uneasy being away from Bludhaven, from his responsibilities and from his sick best friend. He’d called you before he left, whining dramatically as soon as you’d answered the phone, in a way he knew would make you laugh. You’d switched to a video call halfway through so you could “help” him get ready, your help amounting to cheering when he picked the suit you liked and yelling “Swoon!” when he stubbed his toe and launched into a chorus of creative swears.

Usually it helped, talking to you before one of these events. It managed to be both grounding and uplifting, leaving him feeling more confident and optimistic. This time, it had only made him more reluctant to leave, seeing you wrapped in blankets on your couch, eyes bleary with fatigue and cold medicine. What if something happened while he was gone? What if you needed him? What if the city needed him?

Dick sighed, fiddling absently with his cufflink as he scanned the crowd for his next batch of targets. Bruce was off to the left, holding court in a group of at least fifteen business executives. Three had their checkbooks out already. Even Tim seemed to be holding his own, albeit with more fact and detail than charm.

But before he could make his next move, the decision was made for him in the form of a slender arm wrapping possessively around his own. A woman he only recognized from the society pages was securing herself to his side with a dazzling smile, a small group following close behind. Too close. All close enough to touch him if they chose too, which they would. Probably. They usually did.

“Dick Grayson,” said the woman holding his arm, beaming up at him like they were the very best of friends. “You’re the only reason I came tonight.”

…Right.

“In that dress?” he asked, prying her hand off of him and using it to guide her in a graceful twirl before letting go, depositing her a couple feet away with only her friends to steady her. “You wouldn’t deprive your fellow Gothamites of that view, would you?”

She giggled, and stayed where he’d placed her.

Dick continued to play the game, artfully dodging wandering hands by pretending to admire rings, playfully requesting poses while he pretended to be an enthusiastic paparazzo. It played well, had them all laughing, soothing egos before they could even register the sting of a rejection.

The longer this dance went on, the more he began to feel claustrophobic. Restless and almost nauseous with the way they continuously invaded his personal space, felt entitled to his attention, entitled to touch him whenever and however they pleased. He’d swear his tie was getting tighter. The laughter louder. Nails digging in more possessively before he found an excuse to free himself.

“You’re so pretty. How are you still single?” one of them said, bypassing Dick’s attempts to steer the conversation towards the charity of the evening and reaching out to touch his face.

Dick stepped back with a gasp, bringing his hand to his chest.

“Who says I’m single?”

The briefest eye contact from across the room had Bruce arriving a few minutes later with a fatherly clap on the shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said smoothly, smiling at the group before turning to Dick. “I know you need to leave soon, and I wanted to say goodbye. I appreciate you making the time for this on such a busy night.”

A well rehearsed out, used many times, perfectly performed.

“My pleasure.”

“Lucius wants a word before you leave. But I promise to entertain these lovely ladies in your absence. If they can find it in their hearts to settle for my company, of course.”

The assembled ladies chimed in with effusive praise and platitudes while Bruce pulled Dick into a parting hug.

“Thank you.”

“Try to avoid running until you hit the hallway, huh?” Bruce said softly.

“No promises.”

Dick was sitting on the rug beside you, in a nest of cushions and throw blankets, leaning back against the couch. He looked cozy, sweatpants and a T-shirt that’d grown impossibly soft with repeated washes and wear. Metallic pink under-eye masks. Messy hair.

He was laughing, head tilted back with the force of it, eyes bright through their amused squint.

He was relaxed, no tension in his muscles, no creases in his forehead, sprawled out with an effortless grace and little regard for personal space.

He was dazzling. A step beyond the carefully manufactured charm and flippancy he showed in public, its own special kind of armor. This was genuine, unguarded, free. You could watch him like this forever. If he’d let you.

“You’re so pretty,” you said fondly, softly, trying to make it land with the lightness that friendship demanded, not ready to risk anything. Not with him.

“Yeah?” he asked with an easy grin. “The sweatpants and pink foil really do it for ya, huh?”

You shrugged.

“It’s just… you’re actually relaxed. And happy. It’s a good look for you.”

His smile faltered a bit at the impact of your words. Because this compliment meant something else, coming from you. Not an objective admiration of a practiced smile, but an appreciation, a reveling, in his joy.

Butterflies turned gleeful somersaults in his stomach. He almost felt a little light headed, out of breath. Being with you was like that sometimes.

“Do you mean to tell me,” he said slowly, “that I’m not always pretty?”

You narrowed your eyes at the playful spark in his, instinctively starting to scoot away from him.

“Well, you’re always somethin. Don’t know that I’d use the word pretty.”

His mouth dropped open in shock, stomach flipping again at the sight of you laughing. Not for the first time, Dick found himself overwhelmed by how cute you were. How happy you made him.

He wanted to squish your face. He wanted to squish your whole body. Wring you out like a wet sponge, draw out every last drop of that friendly affection you had for him and happily drown in it.

Your laughter broke off in an alarmed yelp as his arms came around you, toppling over with you in a chaotic embrace.

“No!” You protested dramatically, squirming in his arms as they constricted further.

You didn’t actually want out, and both of you knew it. He’d stop if you asked him to.

But you didn’t.

“If you insist on squishing me, can I at least squish you back?”

“Mm-hmm,” Dick hummed happily against your shoulder.

“You asked for it, pal,” you muttered, wiggling your arms free before latching on to him with as much strength as you could muster, forcing all the air out of his lungs in a breathless, shocked laugh.

“When did you get so strong?”

“Are you surrendering?”

No, but if you needed an out, he was happy to give you one.

“Fine,” he sighed, relaxing his grip and pulling away from you.

His transition from tangled up with you on the rug to mostly upright was unfairly graceful, his smile casual and easy as he offered you a hand up.

If you noticed that he looked vaguely disappointed, you mercifully chose not to comment. You already knew he was a hugger, always at the very least hugging you hello and goodbye each time you were together. But he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, even if he did kinda want to be pressed like a human panini right now.

“You messed up your mask,” you said, pointing at your own. His had slid halfway down his cheek. “Can I fix it for you?”

“For the sake of my prettiness you’d better,” he said solemnly, cracking a smile when you groaned.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” you complained, fingertips delicate and careful as you peeled the spongy material off his cheek and smoothed it back into place beneath his eye. “I take it back.”

“Too late. I’ll remember it forever.”

You hummed noncommittally, eyes growing thoughtful as you studied him. His playful smile faded, just a little.

“What?”

“Can I ask you kind of a personal question?”

Dick went very still.

“Okay.”

“Do you get enough hugs?”

He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“I -” He blinked hard. “What?”

“I was just thinking… I know you like physical affection. And living here, away from your family, I was wondering if you… Feel like you get hugged enough? You don’t have to answer that. Sorry.” You shook your head quickly, turning to stare absently at the TV.

“No, it’s okay,” Dick said, bumping his shoulder against yours. “I… Probably would like more hugs. But only from the people that I actually… want touching me.”

You nodded, still avoiding eye contact.

“Well, we could. Hug more, I mean,” you said with a shrug. “If you wanted to.”

“That would be nice. But I was just being silly before. You don’t have to-”

“I know,” you said quickly, finally looking at him with a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind. You give really good hugs. Ya know, when you’re not trying to suffocate me.”

He laughed, leaning into your side when you held out an arm in invitation.

“You’ve gotta slow down on the compliments. I’m pretty and I give really good hugs?”

“You’re also annoying. Did I mention that yet?”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

Say something so I don't panic and enter witness protection

Lovely dividers found here

#dick grayson x reader

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