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clean little secret - itadori yuji

word count: 7.4k warnings: none! summary: yuji and (y/n) are keeping a secret from the others... yuji loves to be pampered by her. more info: tooth rotting fluff, crushing, friends to lovers

for stef <3 ___

Itadori Yuji wasn’t one for keeping secrets. For one, he believed they often caused more harm than good. So unless it was a surprise party, he had no interest in them. Even if Nobara swore it was a particularly juicy piece of information, Yuji had no problem covering his ears with his hands and walking in the other direction. And for two, well, he just wasn’t that great at keeping them, and after a few accidental slips, he’d decided to keep himself secret free.

Of course, the dirty little secret he had of his own didn’t count. But it wasn’t like any harm could come of it… he was pretty sure… so long as (y/l/n) (y/n) didn’t let it slip either.

“So whaddya say?” Nobara’s unusually chipper voice drew Itadori back to the present conversation with the tell-tale hum of a boy that hadn’t listened to a thing she’d said.

Megumi briefly rolls his eyes, (y/n) lets out a short giggle that she quickly stifles behind her hand, and Nobara places her hands on her hips as she turns towards the pink haired sorcerer with a frown.

“Do you want to go see that movie tonight or not?” She asks him pointedly, as if she hadn’t spent the last few minutes coming up with a whole plan for picking up snacks and sneaking them into the theater.

“Oh!” Realization dawns on Yuji in the form of a bright grin, but Nobara’s hope is quickly deflated when he shakes his head. “No, I can’t, sorry”

Before the redhead could strangle him for getting her hopes up with his stupid smile, Megumi’s backing out too, and her attention is quickly swiveled towards (y/n), who had suspiciously kept her expression behind her hand.

“Sorry, Nobara,” She lowers her hand to reveal her frown. “I can’t tonight either. But maybe this weekend?” She tries to compromise, but it appears Nobara was already defeated by the sting of a triple rejection.

“Fine, whatever, this weekend,” She mumbles, hoping a pouty lip would be the final straw to convince her friends. When no one moves, her expression returns to its usual resting bitch face and she turns to leave. “But if the groupchat is as dead as your energy later, then I’m going with Maki instead!” She hollers.

That was close, Yuji thought to himself as the group dispersed and he hurriedly made his way down the hall. Luckily this time, Nobara didn’t shake him down to interrogate him into telling her what better things he could have to do for the evening. God, that could’ve gotten embarrassing.

After a quick stop by his dorm to change out of his uniform, Yuji made sure the halls were clear before he booked it across the building, moving as fast as he could while keeping his steps as quiet as possible, before he slid to a stop in front of her door.

With two quick but rhythmic knocks, her door slid open, and (y/n) peeked out, eyeing both directions of the hall around Yuji to make sure no one was around to see her let him in.

“You’re sure no one followed you?” She whispers, finally meeting his eyes.

Yuji shook his head confidently. Her lips broke into a grin so wide that the corners of her eyes crinkled.

“Well then get in here already!” She says with hushed excitement, grabbing him by the front of his tee shirt and pulling him inside, closing the door behind him in one swift movement.

Yuji seats himself at the end of her bed while she grabs her phone off her desk, scrolling through an abundance of spotify playlists before settling on just the right one.

“I’m so glad we’re finally doing this” She tells him, effectively turning his cheeks pink.

“Yeah, me too” He agrees, hoping his nerves aren’t too obvious in his voice.

“I’ve been dying to show you what I just got for christmas” She adds, practically skipping into the bathroom to retrieve a decently sized plastic basket full of products Yuji can’t even recognize. She has to carry it over to him with both hands, and he knows he should probably be intimidated by what they’re about to do, but he doesn’t.

As (y/n) drags him into her tiny bathroom to set up the array of items, she lists off each one as she shows him. Hydrating mask, lip mask, eyelash serum, somehow it all sounds relaxing and terrifying all at once, but he trusts her, so he nods along to each one. She seems delighted enough just to show off her little collection of products, so Yuji’s determined to match her excitement.

Truthfully, Yuji had never touched anything like this. Sometimes he moisturized his hands when they got dry in the colder seasons, but he wouldn’t say he knew a thing about skincare. And yet, one afternoon while walking with (y/n) from one class to another, he found himself getting carried away telling her how he was trying to take better care of himself and he wanted to establish a proper skincare routine. Before he knew it he was agreeing to being pampered by her- on the condition that it remained secret.

Now remember, one of Yuji’s very few rules of life included the simple act of not keeping secrets. But that day he’d agreed to her condition without a moment of hesitation. He could understand why she didn’t want the others knowing that she was going to give him special treatment, seeing as Nobara had been begging to give everyone makeovers since she’d arrived at Jujutsu Technical College.

While he’s not disappointed in his plan for the afternoon, Yuji does feel incredibly out of place in her bathroom. The dorms were small enough, and the bathrooms barely had room for one person to move around comfortably. But (y/n) doesn’t seem crowded at all as she rummages through the couple of drawers next to him.

With a grin she retrieves what she’d been looking for- two fluffy headbands held proudly in her hand.

“I got one for you too,” She tells him, bashfully avoiding his eyes as she extends one out to him. “You’ll want to keep your hair back, the mask can get really sticky”

Yuji examines the soft baby pink material as if he’d never seen a headband before. He’s pretty sure he knows how to use it, but just in case, he watches as (y/n) slides hers on first. It’s not until he sees the ears on top that he checks his again, delighting in the matching cat ears before he pulls it around his neck and puts it on.

“Thanks!” He beams at both of their reflections in her mirror. He wishes he could take a picture of them, just to have a picture of the two of them wearing the matching accessory, but he knows he can’t risk the others seeing, so for now he settles on memorizing the image.

“You’re welcome,” (y/n) bites the inside of her cheek to keep her grin from getting too goofy, and quickly redirects their attention to the first item on the agenda. “You’ve really never done a face mask before?”

“Nope,” Yuji shakes his head, leaning into the counter as he waits for her direction. “Is it going to hurt?”

“No!” (y/n) giggles, before beckoning him to hold his hand out as she uncapped the product. “It’ll feel nice, here, put a little on,” She instructs, squeezing a dollop of green onto his fingers. She laughs again at his reaction to the color, but he doesn’t question her as he right away rubs it onto his nose.

He had the right idea, but from the way he messily spread it over the bridge of his nose, she could tell he was going to struggle with the application.

“No no, you’re getting it everywh- oh my god don’t put it in your nose!” She squeals as she smacks his hand away, quickly stepping into his space and taking over.

Honestly, Yuji wasn’t trying to get her to do it for him, but as soon as she gently grabs his jaw in one hand while the other is carefully swiping the excess cream off of the tip of his nose, he decides right then and there to surrender.

“I didn’t know, I’ve never done it” He whines, a bit more dramatically than necessary.

“It shows,” She laughs quietly before reaching for the product again to pump more onto her own fingers. “I can just do it for you, if you want?” She offers.

Yuji smiles and nods gratefully, his heart doing a victory dance in his chest.

“Only if you don’t mind” He tells her, already sitting himself down on her toilet seat so she didn’t have to reach up to his face. (y/n) fights the urge to roll her eyes at his swiftness in letting her take over.

“I don’t mind,” She shrugs, getting to work applying a generous amount of lime green mask to his cheeks first. “It’s relaxing to me, actually”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” She nodded along, focused on keeping the application even. “I would’ve loved having a sibling or a cousin or something to do this stuff with,” She tells him. “I know Nobara would… but… she’s so intense about it sometimes,” She admits, and Yuji hums in agreement. Nobara was the most passionate person he’d ever met, and it was her greatest strength, but it did freak him out from time to time. “Not like us”

The murmured comment sits on his mind longer than it should have. Not like us, she’d said, filling his insides with the fuzzy, familiar feeling of having something with her that the others didn’t. This was all his, and she’d said so herself. They couldn’t possibly understand them the way they understood each other.

Not like us. Not like us. Not like us.

Yuji closes his eyes when her careful fingers spread the mask up the bridge of his nose before she gets started on covering his forehead.

“You do this stuff all the time though?” He asks when there’s too long of pause since he’d last heard her voice.

Not that he could forget what it sounded like, no never, most of Yuji’s day was spent waiting for her to speak, just so he could listen. Whether she was arguing with Gojo about a ridiculous lesson plan or going on about a conspiracy theory just to get their lunch table riled up, if (y/n) was talking, Yuji had his mouth shut and his ears wide open. He liked hearing the things she had to say, he liked the way she said them.

And he was learning now that he especially liked when he was the only one she was speaking to, and that if she was standing close, her voice came out in soft murmurs, cautious of the short space between them, and gentle on his ears as it barely echoed off the ceramic tiled walls.

“Maybe not all the time,” She hums thoughtfully. “But I do it when I can, I try to keep up with it anyways”

“Well it feels really nice” Yuji mumbled, almost getting sleepy as he grew used to the feeling of her warm fingers spreading the cooling cream on his skin. (y/n) giggles again, breathy and amused as she watches his shoulders droop downwards.

“Don’t fall asleep on the toilet, Yuji,” She scolds him, but it’s hardly threatening when it’s between strings of giggles as he lazily opens his eyes to look at her. “You’ll make a mess if you fall and hit your head on the counter”

“I’d clean it up” He mumbles back in defeat.

“What if you were concussed?”

“... I’d clean it up later”

She laughs at his antics just as she’s making her final touches near his temple, spreading the green cream just so, making sure none of it would get stuck to his eyebrow. With an affirmative nod of her head she steps back to assess her work.

As sticky, creamy, and unfamiliar as the mask feels, Yuji’s currently grateful that it’s there to cover the way his face heats up under her direct gaze. He’s always thought that she’s had the softest eyes- doe-like, and sweet, and easy to gaze into- but with every ounce of her attention directly on his face, Yuji starts to sweat a little bit.

His intentions of becoming closer friends through a night of pampering was starting to backfire, and instead the little crush he’d been hiding was now festering. Bubbling and smoking just under the thinly veiled surface of his restraint.

“You’re all set,” She beams at him, which he easily returns. “Try not to touch it while I do mine, okay? It’s gotta sit for a while”

Yuji drops his hand just as he’s about to swipe off a generous streak of cream from his cheek, smiling innocently as (y/n) gives him a warning look before she turns towards her mirror to apply her own mask.

“Serious question, if I eat it, while I throw up?”

(y/n) pauses mid-smear on her cheek, turning back to Yuji and sweeping her eyes over him to assess if he was actually serious about eating face cream. He did know it wasn’t guacamole… right? She didn’t need to tell him that… right?

“If you eat it, I’ll be plucking your eyebrows after mine” She settles on a friendly threat.

Yuji’s lips pinch and she gets back to work on her mask, certain she’d done the trick to keep him sitting still.

“Well that sounds horrifying,” He mumbles. “But I’m in”

(y/n) scoffs out of amusement, still focused on her reflection.

“You want me to pluck your eyebrows?”

“If you’re doing it, then sure,” Yuji shrugs, not thinking twice about agreeing to it. “It wouldn’t be a complete spa night otherwise” He adds with a grin that she can see from the corner of her eye.

“Well, if you really want…” She mumbles, doubling down her focus on applying her mask.

A part of her had been hoping he wasn’t agreeing to all this pampering just to please her, she hoped he wasn’t dreading the night going forward. But if he hated it… he wouldn’t be signing himself up for eyebrow plucking… right?

It only takes a few more minutes for her to complete her own mask- she was much faster at applying it to her own face, Yuji noticed.

He also noticed that somehow, she made a face of lime green paste look good. Which just wasn’t fair.

When Yuji tries to pinpoint when exactly these feelings for her began, his mind becomes a blurry haze of every moment he’s ever shared with her- and honestly, it could have sparked from any one of them. It tricks him into thinking maybe he’d just… always had feelings for her.

It’s easy being around her, Yuji finds- even though sometimes she leans close enough to show him a video on her phone and it nearly sends him into cardiac arrest- there’s nothing but ease and relaxation in his muscles when she’s around him. He doesn’t worry about saying the wrong thing- even if she giggles and shakes her head at some of his questions- he basks in her delight until it becomes his own.

Twenty minutes flies by when they’re laughing at memes or talking about the last week of training, and soon they’re scrubbing off the green mask that feels a little crustier than it had when they put it in.

Yuji groans into the bottom of the sink for the ump-teenth time as he scrubs viciously at a part of his jaw where the hardened cream refused to wash off. (y/n) can’t help but stifle a laugh into the warm washcloth she’s using to pat her face dry, but she can’t leave him hanging, so she politely taps his shoulder to get the boy to give up on washing it off with his hands.

“Let me help” She offers, shoulders still shaking just slightly with her amusement.

Yuji pouts with frustration when he stands up from the sink, water dripping down his face and all over his shirt, it really is a miracle he didn’t manage to clean up the last of the mask seeing as he got water everywhere in his attempts.

The pout melts away as soon as (y/n’s) stepping closer and gently wiping her washcloth against the resilient speck of green, making it look easy as it glides away under the soft cloth. She gets it right away, but the tips of her fingers on her free hand still hover over his chin, ready to stabilize his head if he would’ve required another, rougher swipe of the cloth.

“Did ya get it?” Yuji asks hesitantly, unable to read the expression on her face.

But she’s smiling and stepping back in a moment’s notice.

“Yep!” There’s a short, tight sounding laugh that follows. It’s not like her usual laughter, it sticks out like a sore thumb for someone as attentive as Yuji to pick up on, and he does, but he doesn’t say anything. “Here, I have a dry washcloth for you” She’s quick to hand him the towel, and even quicker to stop him when he roughly drags the fabric over his face.

Yuji doesn’t catch half the things she’s saying when she snatches the pink cloth from his hands and tells him to sit his ass down before he destroys his pores. He doesn’t think twice before jokingly asking her what pores are, which sends her on another lecture. It’s hard to focus on what she’s explaining when she’s so delicately patting his face and neck dry of every last waterdrop. He’s too busy fighting the urge to close his eyes and melt under the featherlight touch of her palm against his shoulder to give too much of a crap about pores.

Surprisingly, he’s never fallen asleep on the toilet before, but he thinks he could if he sat here and let her pamper him all night.

“... Yuji? Did you hear anything I just said?”

It takes a few blinks for his vision to focus on her again- her brow is raised and her hands are on her hips now, she’d definitely caught him zoning out. He hopes playing dumb does the trick.

“Of course,” He nods confidently. “Pores swell when they’re wet and that’s bad”

She giggles and rolls her eyes, so he knows his educated guess wasn’t as educated as he thought, but if he got her to laugh he’d take the slight tinge of embarrassment for the greater good of bringing her joy.

God, it was like every minute spent with her only left him craving more.

“Sure,” She drawls out the word in disbelief, but she doesn’t scold him for not paying attention. It would prove to be too difficult when he’s looking at her with the brightest eyes she’s ever seen. She would’ve believed he was hanging onto every word had he not opened his mouth. “So, what next?”

Yuji peeks at the remaining tubes and bottles on the counter. He has no clue what he’s looking at of course, and this is obvious when his helpless expression turns back towards her. To make it easier, (y/n) scoops up two smaller bottles, offering them both for him to choose from.

“Which is which?” He asks, hooking his finger under his chin as he studies each product with skeptical eyes.

“One is for your eyelashes, and the other is for your lips,” (y/n) explains, tilting each towards him as she does. “We can do both, or neither, up to you”

“Will it hurt if it gets in my eyes?” He asks, eyes noticeably widened, and she chuckles as she shakes her head.

“Not at all, it’s super easy,” She assures. “I can show you, if you want?”

Yuji nods, and that’s how he finds himself standing just a few inches away from her as she leans into the mirror with the small applicator brush in her fingers. She could remind him that she’s using the mirror for a reason, and he didn’t need to stand so close… but honestly, he smelled nice, and she wasn’t uncomfortable with his close proximity. In fact, it was actually sort of comforting.

“See?” She hums, brushing the applicator through her lashes over one eye a couple times to make sure all of the serum was evenly spread, before leaning back from the mirror and turning towards him. “Super easy. Like mascara”

“I’ve never told anyone this… but…” Yuji lets out a heavy sigh, and her brows pinch together as she awaits his confession. “... I’ve never worn mascara”

“Yuji,” She whines with a roll of her eyes, letting out her own sigh, although hers was filled with humored frustration. “Shut up,” She finishes weakly when he’s grinning at his own jest. “Here, do you want to try?”

“Alright” He takes the tube out of her hand and experimentally pulls the applicator out.

His curiosity is almost adorable as he holds it close to study it, even though there’s not much to see. It’s just a little blue bruh with a clear liquid coated over it. This stuff really makes your lashes grow? He looks back to (y/n), studying her just as closely, until her face starts to turn rosy and she’s looking at him expectantly. He supposes her eyelashes do look long and pretty… but didn’t they always look like that? Could this stuff really be so good it manages to make an angel like her look prettier?

She has to clear her throat to relieve the nervous tension settling over her the longer he stares at her like this.

“Uh- um, Yuji?”

“Yeah?” His response seems genuine enough, and (y/n’s) eyes flicker between his and the eyelash serum. “Oh!” And just as genuine as before, he realizes that her prompts are because he’s been standing and staring for too long. “My bad,” He apologizes sheepishly, before scooting close to her, the brush extended towards the eye that she hadn’t applied the magic pretty serum to yet.

When she realizes what he’s about to do, her eyes widen and she finds herself grabbing his wrist to halt him on instinct.

“Wait, what are you-?”

“I thought you wanted me to do the other one?” He answers her question before she could even finish asking it, and she blinks wildly at him. Had she not been clear? “Do you not want me to?” Yuji asks, already lowering his hand.

“No, it’s- I don’t…” Her head is shaking as she tries to find a way to explain that she’d offered him the product for himself, but she’s backtracking rather quickly as she slowly loosens her hold before pulling her hand away altogether. “You… you can, if you want”

She tells him quietly. It feels like a silly thing to ask him to do, especially when she’s just demonstrated how to use the product moments prior, but now that the offer was on the table, she also wasn’t interested in turning it down.

“Okay,” His smile softens as he tilts the brush towards her face again. “I promise not to poke your eye out”

With a giggle she has to focus to keep her gaze tilted up at the ceiling so he can follow through on his promise. It’s more difficult than she’s ever thought before, keeping her eyes wide open and focused on anything but the boy in front of her. Yuji takes great care in steadily swiping the brush up through her lashes, working slowly from the outside in. With how long it takes him, her eye should be watering, but somehow it stays dry, and she doesn’t blink over the applicator.

“You do this every day?” Yuji mumbled, re-steadying the small brush in his fingers as he got closer to the inner part of her eye.

(y/n) hardly manages a soft hum of affirmation. She can feel his free hand ghosting under her jaw, as though to keep her in position, however her head is perfectly still and his hold is unnecessary. Still, his palm waits there. She’s never felt such a buzz of nervous energy from a lack of a touch.

Yuji finishes up with a smile before popping the brush back into the tube. He looks like he wants to say something, so she finds herself waiting in silence while she blinks until her eyes feel normal again, but that winds them both up in a minute of no words being exchanged.

This time, it’s not uncomfortable.

“Your turn?” (y/n) offers softly, reaching for the serum in his hand. Yuji nods, lets her take it, and blinks his eyes excessively to make sure he wouldn’t feel the need to while she was doing her thing. “You should sit again” She prompts with a gentle push to his shoulder. It was too awkward of a reach, and would be much easier if he lowered as much of his height as possible.

“Right” He mumbles, backing up to sit down on the toilet seat once more. He does his best to keep his eyes focused upwards, and wide open, to make it as easy as possible for her. But what he isn’t expecting is to feel her knees pressing against his as she gets closer, and on instinct he spreads his legs a little wider so she could easily slide into the space.

He has to keep his grip on his own knees, pressing his fingers into the material of his pants to keep from reaching out to her. The urge to hold onto her waist- the back of her thighs- pull her closer- is so strong that he gulps.

“Are you nervous having someone get this close to your eyes?” (y/n) mumbles, noticing the shift in his energy. Yuji swallows again before speaking.

“No- no, it’s alright, go ahead” His voice is as gentle as it is sure, so (y/n) nods back at him, and makes sure the brush is coated with a decent amount of serum before she gets to work.

He knows he’s supposed to keep his gaze upwards, but with her standing so close, leaning in so close, it was hard to keep his eyes from shifting away from the boring tiled ceiling to the much more intriguing sight before him.

“Stay still,” (y/n) murmurs under her breath. She’s so damn close to him he can feel her cool breath against his cheek. He manages to follow the instruction for a few more seconds, but soon enough the tips of her fingers are pressed under his chin and she’s clicking her tongue in reprimand.

His own fingers flex against his knees, his grip tightening, much like the invisible force around his heart.

Yuji wishes he could close his eyes until it was over, but that would be counterproductive. That said, (y/n) finishes one eye quicker than he had done for her, and she’s sliding a little to the right in order to do the other one.

“You think Sukuna would like a little special treatment, too?” She teases quietly, her thumb affectionately swiping over the marking under his eye. Yuji barely gets to revel in the feeling before the mark is opening up and a vermillion eye is glaring up at her.

“Try it brat and you won’t have hands to do your silly little makeovers”

She giggles at the threat. Sukuna may have intimidated her in the past, but it’s hard to feel fear while doing some self care. Yuji still rolls his eyes and smacks his hand against his own face as punishment. Unfortunately it’s not only a punishment for the curse living inside of him, and he winces a bit from the harsh smack.

“I’ll take that as a no thank you” (y/n) hums as she finishes up with his other eye, smiling faintly at her work before stepping back. Yuji gives her a sheepish smile, before batting his eyelashes theatrically. It does the trick in getting her to laugh.

“Well he’s missing out,” He says, the implication behind the surface level of his words making him bashful, and he finds himself averting his gaze. “I feel prettier already”

It draws another laugh out of her, sharp and surprised, and she continues to giggle behind smiling, sealed lips as she carefully slides the lash serum back into it’s perfect spot in her organizer.

If she were braver, it would’ve been easy to tell him that he didn’t need any sort of serums or masks to be pretty. But just the thought makes her face feel warm, and she has a feeling that even if she tried to say such a thing, she’d butcher the words with a stutter.

So instead, she uncaps the small set of tweezers in her organizer, and turns her focus to the bathroom mirror in order to get to work on her eyebrows. Yuji watches curiously as she begins to pluck tiny, near invisible hairs off of her face, all without a twitch or flinch.

She’s so focused on working with her reflection that he’s able to stare at her as freely as he wants, and it only takes a minute or two for him to get lost in a sea of mushy thoughts that get his heartbeat going. Before he knows it he’s practically melting.

“You still want me to do yours?”

“Hm?” His eyes shift around a bit before they land on hers, already watching him, waiting for a proper answer.

“Your eyebrows,” (y/n) clarifies, raising the tweezers and pinching them for emphasis. “I’m done. So, if you still wanted, I can do yours”

“Oh, right, yeah,” He breaks into a smile that’s so characteristically him it’s hard not to smile back. “Is it going to hurt?”

“It really shouldn’t,” She chuckles, considering he’s gone through worse pain than a little tweezing would provide. Losing a hand comes to mind, but she doesn’t voice it. “But I can stop if it becomes too uncomfortable”

Yuji nods in understanding, and straightens up his posture, ready to brave through whatever this eyebrow plucking would bring. He squares his jaw, clenches his fists, and prepares himself for the worst. (y/n) presses her lips together tightly to keep her laughter from spilling out, but the stifled giggle is still audible.

“C’mon, this is a bad angle for me to do this,” She beckons him to follow her out of the small bathroom, trying to ignore how cutely he wore the expression of confusion.

Maybe it was the forced proximity getting to her head, but it was starting to feel like the little crush she’d been harboring for her friend was becoming too much to bear. She was a jujutsu sorcerer damnit, she shouldn’t be reduced to fits of blushing and giggling she was stronger than that, wasn’t she?

“Alrighty” Yuji follows her into the larger space of her bedroom without a second thought.

Maybe it wasn’t a question of her strength, but his. (y/n) wondered to herself what it was about the sheer delight that overcame her whenever he was around that seemed unavoidable. Was it her feelings for him that made her insides feel weak, or was it simply Itadori Yuji himself that was so delightful she couldn’t help the way she felt and behaved?

Or maybe she was trying too hard to find a way to excuse the butterflies only he could release in her tummy.

She’s careful with the tweezers in her hand as she climbs onto her bed, sliding into the very middle of it before patting the space in front of her to invite Yuji to do the same.

Now, Yuji wasn’t some kind of private, conservative guy. He’d been in beds other than his own. Megumi’s and Nobara’s had been made available to him countless times. Whether it was a study session or a movie night, he never felt uncomfortable when being allowed into someone else’s bed. Hell, he often made himself right at home in their sheets. He even got a smack on the head from Nobara once for getting too cuddly with one of her plushies!

So why now did he feel some reluctance in following (y/n’s) silent command?

“You’re allowed in the bed, Yuji,” As if reading her thoughts, she provides some comfort with the offer. There’s even a little smile on her face, as if she wanted to tease him for hesitating. “Trust me, it’ll be way more comfortable to do this here than keeping you sat on the toilet”

It seems to do the trick, because he sets his knee on the mattress as he crawls on, and sits criss-cross directly in front of her. It’s the first time he’s been in her bed, he realizes, so maybe that would explain his nerves.

(y/n’s) got a skeptical look on her face, her eyes wandering over his face as she maneuvers around, trying to find the right way to bend her legs, until eventually she huffs and turns to grab one of her pillows from the headboard.

“Just lay down, I’ll do ‘em that way,” She decides, placing the pillow just in front of her criss-crossed legs. She gives it a pat the same way she’d patted the bed, prompting him to rest his head. “It’d be easier than destroying my posture” She explains.

Yuji nodded his head, and started to turn around so he could lay back, but his movements are agonizingly slow. He’s still unsure about being in her space, it seems, but she’s not sure how else to make him feel comfortable. So when he finally lays his head down on her pillow and looks up at her, awaiting further instruction, she smiles comfortingly.

“Alright, just relax your face, I’ll try not to take too long,”

Yuji shuts his eyes and lets out a small breath, trying to do his best to relax as she’d asked him. But it’s hard when she leans in closer and the sweet smell of her shampoo invaded his nose. The tip of her finger merely grazes over his left eyebrow, but the sensation is electric. He has to fight the shiver that nearly shoots down his spine.

“And just tell me if it stings too much” She adds in a murmur, before he feels the first pluck of the tweezers.

“I think I can thug it out, (y/n),” He teases, once he’s actually felt the sensation of the plucking and realizes it’s not that bad at all. “I’m tough, you know”

(y/n) giggles, quiet and sweet, as she continues on with her work. She shapes the top of his brow with no complaint or lag. He figures she must be pretty used to doing this, if she’s able to speed right through the process.

“Oh yeah,” She hums, cautious of her volume when her face is hovering right over his. She’s appreciative that Yuji’s kept his eyes closed for this process, because she doesn’t think she could bear having him staring up at her when she’s this close. “The toughest” She finishes in a whisper.

Yuji’s shoulders shake when he chuckles, and she pauses with the tweezer for a moment when his brows move along with his smile.

“Are you patronizing me?” He asks, peeking an eye open, only to be met with her free palm covering his eyes as she leans back in to continue working on his eyebrows.

“I would never,” She assures in the same tone, laughing quietly to herself when Yuji’s mouth drops into an offended gape. “Now hush, you’re making it hard to focus”

Her tone was playfully scolding, but it’s an empty threat.

“Am I that distracting?”

“Incredibly,” (y/n) huffs, and it’s meant to be teasing, but there’s just a little too much truth to her tone. “You talk too much” She throws the excuse out there quickly, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the shift in her tone.

Yuji shrugs his shoulders, and with how close she is to him, she’s able to watch his lips curl into a cute smile. She can’t help but mirror it, even if he can’t see.

“Can’t help it. I like talkin’ to you”

Now she’s certain that she’ll keep her hand over his eyes, because there’s no way she’s going to risk him seeing the way her face heats up with color. If she put a thermometer in her mouth, it’d malfunction, she’s sure.

Yuji’s heart may have been going haywire, but there’s not an ounce of uncertainty in his words. He means it, and she knows it.

There’s a pause, the both of them remaining silent while she freezes in her ministrations. She squeezes the tweezers together a few times as she lets the comment really settle in her mind.

“I like talking to you too,”

It really shouldn’t be a difficult thing to say. For one, because it’s the truth. And for a second thing, because there’s nothing strange about friends getting along with one another. But for some reason, she holds her breath after she says it, and her heart is pounding in her ears.

“Today’s been a lot of fun, actually” It takes some effort to talk through the lump in her throat, but she feels the need to tell him anyway.

His smile turns into a grin, and (y/n) has to go back to working on his eyebrows in order to distract herself from it.

“It has,” Yuji agrees. “It’s very relaxing. I want to do this all the time now”

“I’m not sure you’re ready for that,” (y/n) muses. “You did try to eat the mask” She reminds.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep on getting your help then,” Yuji replies, his tone lighting with hope. (y/n) scoffs to herself. “What?” He asks innocently. “I thought you liked pampering me?”

“I thought I told you you were talking too much” She chides, moving onto the space between his brows. Without thinking, she brought her other hand upwards so she could use her thumb to gently brush away the stray hairs from his face.

His eyes are on hers in a moment’s notice, his grin returning.

“I thought you liked talking to me” He said. She has half a mind to smack her hand over his face again- because as predicted, she’s rendered speechless when she’s leaning so close and he’s looking right at her. But the larger problem now is that she’s completely frozen, staring back at him with wide eyes, like he’d just caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to be.

“I do,” She mumbles, barely conscious of her own voice. She was too distracted, her eyes shifting between his brown ones. “You have a little hazel in your eyes” Again, she finds herself speaking without caution, or much awareness at all.

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles up at her, amused by her quiet commentary. He longs to hear more, to tell her to keep talking, but he worries that he’ll ruin the atmosphere, and startle her into covering his face again.

“I always thought you had the prettiest eyes” He said it as quietly as he could. As he thought she might, she did startle. Her eyes go wide and her- now perfectly shaped- brows draw together in a slight knot.

A beat passes before she’s able to reply.

And even then, it's only a barely there, “...really?”

“Yeah, really,” Yuji answers without missing another beat. “Sometimes I look at ‘em too long and forget where I am”

A surprised, breathless little laugh escapes her. If she wasn’t a blushing wreck before, she certainly was now. She tries to continue tweezing away at his eyebrows… but it seems like his eyes insist on holding contact with hers, and she can’t exactly pluck eyebrows without looking.

And again, she’s reduced to a mumbled, “R-really?”

“Mhm” Yuji hums, his point proven as he gets lost staring up at her. He looks like he has something more to say, but soon enough his eyes are glazed over and he’s got a dopey smile on his face.

That smile is quickly reflected back at him as her insides start to melt to a point of no return.

“I didn’t… uh- I- I didn’t know that” She stammered, and normally she’d feel embarrassed for stuttering over her words too much, but with the bigger picture forming, stuttering was at the bottom of her list for reasons why she was growing bashful.

“Mhm,” Yuji hums again, this one a little more dazed than the last. He blinks a few times to cure his tunnel vision. “Sometimes I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn’t tell you that”

She chuckles, similarly biting down on her bottom lip until she found her voice again.

“Why wouldn’t you want to tell me that?” She asks softly, brows pinching again with curiosity.

“Well, uh, y’know…” Yuji trails off, barely shrugging his shoulders. “Didn’t want to say something weird and mess up our friendship”

At this point, her curiosity was getting the best of her, so with a tilt of her head and a bolder disposition, she gave him a knowing smile.

“So why say something now?”

“Couldn’t help it” He replies right away, and (y/n) has to purse her lips from grinning too much.

Her eyes flicker away from his, only to glance up at his lips. She’s looking at him upside down, so for a brief moment Yuji thinks she’s staring at his chin, and he wonders if some of that green mask is still stuck there. But then he catches the way her lips part and it dawns on him- oh.

It happens all at once and agonizingly slow. She leans further over him, bringing her face down closer to his. One of her hands firmly clutches the small set of tweezers, while the other relaxes, fingertips gently brushing over his cheekbone, thumb resting against his temple. Yuji can’t decide whether he wants to watch it happen with wide eyes, or close them and give into the moment. They end up falling shut on their own accord as soon as her lips brush over his- before she’s even actually kissed him.

She hovers there for a brief moment, her lips ghosting his, the tip of her nose grazing his chin, and her mind running wild. Should she have asked him if this was okay first? Was she making this huge leap of faith over one compliment? Sure, it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her but if she kissed him right now, like this, would she come to regret it-?

Her thoughts are calmed when Yuji tilts his head back, bringing his lips to meet hers in a kiss that pushes every last doubt out of her mind, until it’s gone blank. Every thought that doesn’t surround him is completely lost.

Needless to say there’s no second thought when she kisses him back. Her fingers press softly into the skin of his cheek as though to keep him still- just as she had before when applying the eyelash serum. Yuji never could have imagined his silly daydreams from that moment would play out in reality just twenty minutes later.

When they part, and Yuji drops his head properly back into her pillow, (y/n) doesn’t go far. With her eyes still shut and her touch unmoving, she leans down one more time to steal another, quicker kiss, before she finally sits up and glances down at him again.

He’s already looking at her, his lips stretching so wide that his grin nearly split his face. It was a grin she was familiar with, but it still made her light up with a shared joy.

She giggles at him, before steadying her tweezers in her fingers and going right back to the previous task at hand.

“Couldn’t help it” She mumbles his words back to him, and Yuji laughs as he shuts his eyes, relaxing once more as she evened out his eyebrows.

He reaches his hand back, gently laying it against her bent knee and giving it an affectionate squeeze. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she, but they didn’t have to. Not until they finished their night of pampering and made plans for a proper date later in the week.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#fic rec #to be reviewed

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kikis-writing-service · 12 days

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Not a fan of Selina stealing to survive cause she’s poor and was raised in poverty. Such a basic and boring motivation. Much more interested in rich socialite Selina who rubs elbows with rich people and then robs them blind right after and uses that money to fund animal shelters and wildlife preservation funds.

Yes I love Batman the animated series Selina conceptually; don’t like her blonde though

#kiki's talking to herself again

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kikis-writing-service · 12 days

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Is this my soul, still? (is this my ghost, again?)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.3k

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: damian has nightmares and issues and anxieties poor boy, it's all very nice and soft though actually

a/n: annnd here we go <3

There's a softness that exists in Damian's life these days that he finds himself stumbling in, a gentleness that feels out of place - foreign to him. Sometimes it's a comfort that you're by his side, tripping with him, into him. It isn't always, though. On nights like these, he finds himself wishing he was anywhere but laying next to you, silk sheets cold and strange against his skin. It's his home, yes, the penthouse he chose with you and the bed he bought. But sometimes… sometimes this isn't his life at all.

There's a furrow in his brow, a tense set to his shoulders as he rolls over in bed, away from you. And the dreams, the dreams, they curl around his mind as he stumbles in and out of sleep. Sometimes it all comes back to him, the League and his life there, the voices in his head telling him that you belong on the end of his sword. Sometimes he thinks, in that dazed, dreamlike way, that it's perfect that you're asleep next to him - caught completely off guard. It's a part of him that he's tried to bury, the part that demands he reach over and wrap his hands around your throat.

When he finally wakes fully, gasping and sweat soaked and trembling, he tries to stay oh so still so that he doesn't wake you, the remnants of his dreams rolling over and over in his head. Wayne, he tells himself. I am Damian Wayne. I am not Al Ghul anymore. I do not have to feed on that bloodshed anymore. But there is a part of him that never dies, an act of violence that he cannot kill. Damian Al Ghul is alive and well, and he reaches hot, sun-touched hands to wrap around his heart, strangling him from the inside out.

Sitting up slowly, Damain wills his breaths to come out long and slow, forcing himself to feel the expansion of his lungs over and over. Glancing towards your sleeping form, a relief washes over him when he sees that you're still sleeping - that his torment hasn't woken you, hasn't touched you in any way. Damian Al Ghul doesn't weep in his bed, he thinks - before he can stop himself. He wonders, almost desperately, if you prefer that younger, wilder version of him. He wonders if you really love him, or just the memory of what he used to be.

As he stares down at your sleeping form, the stillness that creeps over the two of you begins to be too much for him. He slouches back down and under the covers despite the heat from his skin. Easing himself lower, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your frame to pull you into him. Something deep inside his heart is soothed at the way you curl against him, pushing your head into his chest in your sleep. Some part of his soul feels unbroken because of it.

Reaching slowly, he curls his hand around yours, his fingers pressing against your inner wrist as a need to feel your heartbeat thudding against the skin and into him grips him, a desperation to know that you're alive and safe.

Of course it's that that wakes you, of course it's his gentle, loving touch smoothing over your skin that feels unnatural enough to rouse you, your eyes blinking slowly up at him as you take in his wild eyes and tousled hair.

"Dames," you murmur, your voice sweet in a way that makes his heart stutter as you reach a hand up to smooth over his cheek, leaving your other firmly in his so that he can keep his fingers on your pulse. "What's going on, hm?"

"I just couldn't sleep, beloved," he murmurs back, his lips finding your forehead. "It's nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep." His hands and voice shush you gently, a soft lull that pulls you back towards sleep. But you know, you can see it in him - feel it against him. Something isn't quite right.

"Damian," you chastise softly, but the breathy quality of your voice as you fight sleep undermines your authority. "Talk to me."

"I had a dream that I lost you again," he answers, face buried in your hair. There's no resistance anymore, your love for him the only thing he needs to surrender. "I had to make sure it wasn't real." His fingers press into the pulse in your wrist as he speaks.

"Again?" you inquire gently. He tightens his hold on you.

"Well I did, once, didn't I? I lost you, I… I left you."

"Oh," you breathe, smoothing a hand through his hair. "That was a long time ago, love. Neither of us are the people we used to be… and neither of us need to keep repenting for sins committed when we were children."

"Hm," is Damian's only response, his fingers smoothing over the skin of your inner arm, finally leaving their post of being pressed against your pulse.

"It wasn't your fault… and you're not going to lose me again. I'll always come for you, yea? I'll always find you." It's a good promise, coming from you. Reliable. It's always been true, and Damian wills himself to find comfort in that, to find truth in your love for him.

"We're… not, are we?" He asks tentatively - carefully. "We're not who we used to be. I'm… not."

"No," you say easily. "You're not." Damian looks at you pointedly at your words and you shrug, smoothing your thumb over the furrow between his brows.

"Does that upset you?" He asks. You shake your head no and shoot him a look. Of course it doesn't, he sees in your eyes. He huffs out a sigh. "Do you… do you love me? Now? Or is it - is it some kind of loyalty? Is it me that you love or is it the memory of what I once was that you're chasing?" You still at his words, sitting up to look down at him with your eyes hard and jaw set.

"I'm not chasing you, Dames, I have you." You flick his forehead as you speak, a subtle indicator that you're not irreparably angry with him. "And of course I love you now. There is no ghost that could keep me here, tied to this life - not even yours… we're our own people now, Damian. It's why we can choose to love each other." You lean forward as you say that, touching your forehead against his gently and letting your eyes close.

Damian sighs deeply, smoothing his hands up your sides and letting one roam up your front. His knuckles brush against your throat lightly before settling his hand there. Your pulse is stronger there, of course, and he can't help but notice that it's steady and slow, even with his touch wrapped around your neck.

"I love you, Damian," you say gently, a clarity ringing through your voice as you dip lower to press your lips against his. "And I trust you. I -" But whatever you're about to say is cut off by Damian pulling you to him, knocking your arms out from supporting you to press you against his chest, holding you tightly, desperately to him. You let him, of course, pressing your face into his neck and kissing the skin that you can reach there.

"I love you," he says in that strong, determined way of his. "And I'll… I'm…" The words seem to leave him then, escaping him as he holds you to him.

"I know, Dames," you soothe, letting yourself be pulled closer still. "I know."

#fic rec #to be reviewed

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kikis-writing-service · 12 days

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Ask me about my sins (and I'll tell you about my love)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.8k

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: the initial awkwardness of enemies to lovers who have JUST moved on to the lovers stage, there's a lil jealousy but it's smoothed over pretty easily

a/n: this is a bit of a longer one but whatever I hope y'all like it <3

The galas Bruce Wayne holds may have become a normal occurrence for Damian, but the thought of them and everything they entail still makes something uneasy stir in your gut. Damian assures you that it's fine - that it's understandable. He stares intently in the mirror, straightening his suit as he speaks soothing words.

"You haven't been in Gotham for very long," he says. "No one expects you to adjust to life here immediately… and no one will demand you do anything you're not comfortable with. Ever. If you never go to one of these galas, that's fine with me."

You stare at the pattern of the wood floor in Damian's room, your hands bunching the covers of his bed where you sit as he moves to stand in front of you. He doesn't touch you - he's not sure enough, yet. This newfound peace between the two of you is still so fragile and neither of you know exactly how to navigate it yet. It pains him, though - he often finds himself wishing he could reach out, wishing there was something he could do to bridge the gap between the two of you.

"You've adapted to life outside of the League very well," you say quietly, a sharpness coating your words. There's an accusation there somewhere, maybe born of jealousy, maybe born of fear. Damian doesn't take the bait, though - another indicator of the ways in which he's grown since coming here. Another moment that leaves a bitterness on your tongue.

"No," he responds simply. "It's just that the years I spent learning this new life, you were… still back there. You knew me in the League and you know me now. There was an in-between that you just didn't see."

You don't respond to his words, a swirling sort of panic rising in your chest at the reminder that there was so much of him that you missed, so much of his life that you were so far away for. Damian kneels in front of you, tilting his head to lock his eyes with yours, a gentle love shining in his irises that makes you wish you could run away - again.

"Please be here tonight when I get back?" he asks softly. "We can talk more about this then." You nod at his words and he reaches out slowly, taking your hand in his and pressing a series of delicate kisses to your knuckles. There are words neither of you can say yet, bridges neither of you are ready to cross, but he hopes - every day he hopes that you know how much he loves you. And every day you pray he can see how much you love him back.

Having spent his whole life circling you and watching you circle back, it's almost second nature for Damian, now, to check for you. No one else is aware of your presence, too focused on the press and the dresses and the endless champagne that comes with these events - not that any of them could find you if they tried, Damian thinks smugly. He knows, of course. He always knows. The flicker of a shadow seen through a window, a rustle on the balcony near him, the ever-present feeling of eyes on him.

Damian doesn't mind, he realizes. He takes no issue with your hawk-like gaze trained on him from a vantage point no one else can find. In a way, it makes him feel better. You're not here, in front of him, where he can keep you safe - but if you're around, then you must be okay. It soothes something in him - something new and foreign that pleads with him and demands he take care of you. It's an unfamiliar feeling, one that trips him up and knocks him off balance. He has a hard time placing the moment he stopped being possessive of you as his enemy and started becoming protective of you as his… well, he doesn't even really know yet.

He does mind when a girl his age bumps into him at the gala, a glass of something sparkling in her hand as she giggles and promises that it was an accident, her hand finding itself placed on his chest. And he minds even more when, amidst his attempts to escape the sudden intrusion on his train of thought he suddenly… can't find you or feel you anywhere. He removes the girl's hands quickly, excusing himself and slipping out, away from the noise and the politeness and the showiness of it all.

"You cut your party short," you say quietly, not turning to look at where Damian's climbed onto the roof of the Manor behind you, dress shirt ruffled and jacket unbuttoned. You don't need to turn to know he's there, silent as he is. You always know.

"It's not my party. I made my appearance," he shrugs, sitting down next to you and staring at you intently. You keep your gaze trained up, staring at the night sky as you sit stiffly, back straight and shoulders back.

"She means nothing to me," Damian says firmly when you remain silent. You tense at his words. "I don't even know who she was."

"...It's fine," you say stubbornly. Damian sighs. Silence covers the two of you, the weight of it bearing down on the uneasiness - the stubbornness and the frustration of you both. Damian shifts, finding himself unsure, once again. You had always been better at this than him - always been more sure of yourself when it came to mind games. He finds himself wishing suddenly that he had a sword in his hands - it was always easier to fight you like that.

"You're… jealous," he says slowly, like he's trying to figure out where you stand in the situation. You snap your head around to look at him and he winces internally. Wrong guess, he thinks.

"I'm not," you respond stubbornly and he thinks briefly that this isn't the tact he's used to seeing you use in verbal sparring matches. He's not sure if it soothes or stresses him that he seems to unarm you the same way you so effortlessly unarm him.

"We were apart for years, Damian," you continue quietly, looking away from him pointedly. "And… we were never actually together. And we were so young when you left the League. And…" you trail off, eyes shifting as you seemingly search for the right words.

"And…?" he prompts patiently. You sigh, slumping over ever so slightly, cracking your perfect posture for just a moment. Damian wonders if anyone else has ever seen you like this or if he's an exception - then kicks himself mentally for focusing on something like that right now.

"You came to Gotham for a second chance - a new life. I don't expect that you sat here waiting for me… I don't expect that there was never anyone else," you finish glumly, still pointedly looking anywhere but Damian as you speak. He makes a strange sound at your words, a strangled sort of panicked noise at the idea that you're presenting to him.

He turns suddenly, facing you completely as he reaches out, hands outstretching towards you so fast and determinedly that you jerk back, years of the two of you on opposite sides of a bloody fight flashing in front of your eyes. But there's no fight in Damian tonight. There's no violence in the way he cups your cheeks tenderly in his hands, pulling himself forward to press a kiss to your lips.

Your own surprised sound leaves your throat at the action, your hands reaching up to wrap around Damian's wrists as he kisses you. Maybe you both expect for you to pull him away, but you find your fingers wrapping around the delicate bones of his wrists and keeping him there, pressed against you.

By the time the two of you part, you're both gasping for breath and you find yourself half in Damian's lap, your chest heaving against his as his hands anchor you to him. He tips his head forward to touch his forehead to yours, leaning into you as you relax against him. A faint smile flits over his lips at the way you sag against his chest, letting the tension you've lived with for so long slip ever so slightly off your shoulders.

Eventually, he brings a hand to cup your cheek again, firmly this time, moving just enough to look at you. You're close still - close enough that you can feel his lips brush against yours as he talks and you can't help but notice the way his heart beats against his chest and into yours.

"It was always you," he says in that voice that you know is reserved for you - that voice that's gentle and loving and full of so much emotion that it nearly wavers. "There was never anyone else - not even in my thoughts. Certainly not pressed up against me like this."

You huff at his words, your cheeks beginning to feel hot as you pull away from him just enough to let your head fall to his shoulder, your face hidden from him. He lets you, thankfully, humming in contentment and just a touch of smugness as he pulls you closer to him, your weight a welcoming blanket.

"I think…" you begin, pulling your face away from his neck to look at him again. "I think this may have been inevitable. I think we… might have been inevitable." Damian grins at your words, his smile flashing in a way that makes your stomach swoop.

"I think you're right," he says firmly. Sounds of the gala float up towards the two of you as you sit together, leaning against each other. "I was, by the way," he continues. You cock your head to the side.

"What?"

"I was waiting for you. And I would again, if I needed to. Until the end of my days." Damian says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, and something in your brain feels fuzzy because of it.

"Well… I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for so long," you respond gently, a smile passing across your lips quickly. Damian's returning smile is just as small - just as shy. His voice, in his response, is soft in a way that blankets you.

"You don't need to apologize. Your mistakes are not sins to me and your missteps do not demand penance. You will never have to ask for my forgiveness because it will always be given… without question, without hesitation, without uncertainty. It's… inevitable."

You laugh at his words and Damian feels his heart soar.

"Yes," you agree. "I suppose it is."

#fic rec #to be reviewed

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kikis-writing-service · 12 days

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These hands may be bloody (but they're still mine and I'm still yours)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.3k

genre: fluff, sort of hurt/comfort

warnings: there's some talk of timmy being able to hurt reader, but the point is that he doesn't

a/n: hmmmmm actually this is a really good one enjoy <3

"You know, my front door works very well," you point out without looking up, your eyes still trained on the case file in your lap as you sit on your couch, listening to your balcony door click shut and heavy boots walk across your living room.

"Aw, but where's the fun in that?" Red Robin drawls as he settles on the arm of your couch, leaning over to try to look at your file before you snap it shut and throw it onto your coffee table.

"There are a lot of apartments to break into around here, Red. You should start branching out." You quip.

"Those other apartments don't give me what I need."

"Which is…?" You prompt. He extends his hand, dropping a flash memory drive into your lap. You look at him witheringly. "I should start charging you."

"I don't have the time to keep eyes on all the leads I need to. Help me out a little." Red Robin smiles, a sharp grin that seems to glint in the darkness of your apartment.

"I did," you emphasize. "I've helped you out for weeks. When are you gonna have enough of me, Red?"

"You watch the news, I'm sure." He ignores your question. "The intel you're helping me get is doing real damage to the drops trade. You're making Gotham a better place. You're doing something good here."

"Should I pull out the pompoms or are you done with the cheerleading speech?" You shoot back dryly.

"C'mon, please. Just… give me a little something. Help me out here," Red Robin slides off the arm of your couch so that he can kneel in front of you, propping his chin on his hand and looking at you imploringly through his mask.

"Don't grovel. It freaks me out," you say. He laughs. Your heart thumps at the sound in a way you hate.

"Please…?"

"Fine. Just - get up, will you?" You snap as he pulls himself up to his feet. The way he stands in front of you, towering over your sitting form with his arms crossed menacingly, you faintly remember in the back of your head that you should be afraid of him. The moonlight from your windows lights his silhouette like a halo, his face hidden from you as you stare up at him. He could hurt me, you think. Why hasn't he, yet?

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says plainly.

"Excuse me?" You shift, wishing you had a mask of your own.

"You can say no to me. Give me back the drive and I'll leave. You'll never see me again." Your eyes flit over Red Robin's face at his words, wishing desperately that you could see his face so that maybe you could begin to guess what's going on in his mind. But he stays standing, shrouded in the darkness of night as he looks down on you, his posture straight and his muscles taut. He's… offended, you think maybe. Huh.

"If I thought you were going to hurt me, I wouldn't be so apt to keep letting you into my home," you say softly. The muscles of his forearms tighten where his arms are crossed and you wince internally at the words you chose. Wrong answer, you think. Somewhere fuzzy in the back of your mind, you consider the possibility that you might make him angry enough that he does hurt you.

"Are you letting me in? Really? Could you find a way to keep me out if you wanted to?" Red Robin points out. You freeze, your mind spinning at the insinuation of his words - at the reminder that the two of you are inherently on uneven footing. No matter how much he tries to hide his teeth behind a wolfish grin, you are still a lamb led to slaughter every time he slips through your balcony door.

"Yes," you say stubbornly. "I would ask you to leave… and you would. That's all I ever need to keep you out." Your fingers tangle in the blanket that's thrown haphazardly over your couch as you wait for his response. Tell me I'm right, you think pleadingly. Tell me you'll listen when I tell you to stay or go.

Red Robin's shoulders slouch, his posture deflating as he sags, bending to sit perched on the edge of your coffee table and look at you. He reaches forward with a slowness that has to be deliberate, using gentle fingers to brush a stray strand of hair from your face before he pulls back quickly.

"Yes," he says, and his voice rings with a conviction that you haven't heard from him before. "That's all you'll ever need. Say the word and I leave. Or… or say the word and I… stay." You release a breath at his words, leaning back to sag against your couch and look him up and down.

There's a silence that hangs between the two of you, bated breath held by Tim as he waits for your response. Please tell me to stay, he wants to beg. Please tell me you believe me. Please let me keep you safe. He watches as your eyes flit over him, mulling over his words as you make your decision. I'm a dog with a bloody muzzle, I know, but it will never be your blood on my teeth.

"Leave the drive with me," your words snap him out of his inner spiralling and Red Robin straightens, the wood of your coffee table legs shifting slightly under his weight. "I'll let you know when - if I find something."

He nods stiffly and stands, stepping over your legs easily to make his way back to your door. Your hand shooting out to grab onto his stops him in his tracks, though, and when he looks down at you, you pull back, opening your mouth to utter an apology. Before you can, though, he crouches in front of you again, reaching to take your hand back into his, his brow furrowed in sudden worry.

"Next time you come around…" you begin, and his heart thumps at the over-confident, teasing tone that's made its way back into your voice. "Don't sit on my coffee table like that. You'll break it. The couch arms, too. I have real chairs for a reason." Red Robin laughs and squeezes your hand before letting it go and standing, moving back towards your balcony door.

"I'll keep that in mind… for next time," he says, sliding the door open. Before he slips through it and into the darkness, though, he stops to look at you one last time.

"It's your fault, you know," he says plainly.

"What?"

"You never told me what your rate is."

"What are you talking about?" You sigh.

"I can't pay you… I don't know how much I owe you. You haven't told me what you're charging," he points out. You stare back at him, and although the shadows obscure his masked face once again, you find it doesn't bother you so much.

"...you don't owe me anything, Red. You never will," you say gently. He doesn't smile this time - instead, an emotional little noise gets punched out of his lungs before he nods his head, slipping out into the night and closing your door silently behind him. As you sit on the couch, turning the memory drive over in your hands, you hear the faint click of the door being locked again somehow from the outside and you smile to yourself. It doesn't seem too bad to have a wolf at your door some nights.

#fic rec #to be reviewed

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kikis-writing-service · 12 days

Text

This may be my grief (but it's you who's made a mess of it)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

warnings: reader has a panic attack, there's a lot of blood but it's the clean-up part, Jason is riddled with self-hatred and guilt but he's making progress

a/n: ok enjoy kiss kiss <3

Your heart lurches as you stare at the television, your hands clutching the couch cushions on either side of you as you listen to the presenter on the news station that you'd idly turned on for background noise. He's talking about a current fight, some scuffle between some vigilantes and Two-Face downtown. He mentions Redhood - mentions that he was seen going down during the fight and wasn't seen getting back up again.

Suddenly, the walls of your apartment feel small - too small, closing in on you as the air leaves your lungs in a punched-out gasp. He's not getting up. He's not getting up and he's gone again. You stand abruptly, knocking the TV remote off your lap and letting it clatter to the floor as you begin to pace back and forth in front of your couch, trying desperately to keep listening to the news anchor and what he's saying about the current situation.

Maybe he's wrong, you think desperately. Maybe he's alright and no one really knows what they're seeing. Maybe he's… dead. Maybe he's dead again. Maybe you'll never ever see him again. Maybe you'll have to bury him again.

You drop into a sitting position on the floor ungracefully, leaning against the couch as you reach blindly for the remote, suddenly needing desperately for the news anchor to stop updating you on the situation. You fumble with it once you have it, your hands cold and numb as you turn the television off.

The silence, you realize immediately, is worse

The thought of having to mourn him a second time, you realize, might be more than you can handle.

The city moves outside, cars honking and pedestrians shouting - the normal turmoil of Gotham. You fit right in, you suppose, amongst the panic and the pain and the death that permeates this city. You almost, almost wish you'd left all those years ago when Jason became Robin - when you told him it was a choice that would kill him and you threatened to walk out.

And now, in the dull silence of your apartment, your gaze level with your coffee table that has two empty mugs, you wish that you really had left all those years ago… and you wish that you had never come back.

The thought punches out whatever air is left in your lungs as guilt, cold and heavy and choking, settles in your gut. You bring your hands to your face, digging the heels of your palms into your closed eyes as you try to get a hold of your rattling breathing. You had, at times, considered what your life would be like if you'd never met Jason, or if you moved on and gotten over him after his death - his first death. The thought makes nausea roll through your stomach. Of course, you'd thought about it. But you'd always come to the same conclusion - you were lucky to have met him and to have known him as you did. Even if it meant carrying his ghost with you for the rest of your life, you were blessed to have been loved by him.

Now, though, it doesn't feel like a blessing. Now, it feels like a rotten, undead curse, something dragged up from some unholy pit to pull him away from you again, and again, and again. There is nothing lucky in this life and there is nothing lucky in this love.

A clattering on your balcony rips you from your spiralling thought as your head snaps around to see Redhood heave himself up over the railing, stumbling with fatigue and obvious injury. You lurch to your feet, desperate to get to him, desperate to know he's alive, desperate to stop him from seeing you on the floor of your home, grief-stricken and terrified because of him.

No, you think. He doesn't need to know about that. And fortunately, he's dazed enough from whatever god-awful fight he was in that he doesn't seem to really notice anything beyond the way you rip the door open and pull him inside, your hands flitting over his armour to gauge his injuries. Not at first, anyway. He lets you sit him on the couch, lets you shush his worries about staining the fabric with his blood. He doesn't consider the fact that your soul is already stained from him. Not yet, at least.

It's not until his armour is off, sitting in the bathtub and dripping crimson blood onto the white porcelain. It's not until you've checked him over, the large gash along his side cleaned and the blood flow staunched. It's when you begin stitching him up, your hands trembling ever so slightly in a way that sends concern shooting up his spine. It's not concern for himself - he's had you do this countless times, and he's done it to himself with much less finesse even more times. But something wrong - something must be wrong for you to be unsteady, for your shoulders to be tense and your eyes to avoid his. The pain from his side is nearly blinding, but there's nothing that sobers him and centres him as resolutely as you on your knees in front of him and afraid.

"Baby?" his voice is quiet, the breath leaving his lips in a tired sort of sigh that he can't help.

"Don't distract me," is your only response.

"Talk to me," he pushes in that gentle, guiding way of his.

But you say nothing. The silence drips between the two of you as you tie the last stitch, cutting the thread and rubbing your hands with a towel. Jason makes a mental note to buy you new ones as he watches the white fabric blooming red as you try to scrub the blood off your hands.

But your skin doesn't come clean. There are places where the blood - his blood has dried around your fingers and you rub the towel on your palms until he reaches out, worried. Then, and only then, does it hit Jason, and he's not sure if it's blood loss or fear and guilt that makes him feel lightheaded.

It's his blood on your hands. And they're not coming clean.

He takes the towel from you gently, tossing it onto the other end of the couch before he grips your hands in his own. He's not sure who's trembling more between the two of you. He's not sure who's more blood-soaked.

"I saw it on the news," you say quietly as you rub your thumb over the knuckles of Jason's hand. "They said - they said you were dead." Your breath hitches. Jason huffs, tightening his hold on your hands.

"Those reporters don't know what the fuck they're talking about most of the time - you know that, baby. They always get it wrong." He soothes, his voice low as he looks down at you. He's still sitting on the couch while you kneel before him, like an altar of violence that you pray to.

"I know, Jason. I just -" You take a deep, shuttering breath.

"What, baby?"

"I thought I'd lost you… again. I just - I couldn't take it. I couldn't bear it." You laugh, then - a humourless, hysterical sort of thing. "All this time you've spent trying to protect me and you're the thing that ended up hurting me the most and… no, I - Jason, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I was just scared."

But Jason's already lurched away from you, letting go of your hands as if you've burned him and pulling back in a way that stretches his stitches and makes him wince. You, on the floor in front of him, made the infamous Redhood flinch, made him recoil in fear and self-hatred and pain.

"I didn't mean that, Jason," you say again, a firmness in your voice as you surge up onto your knees. Your hands aren't trembling now, he notices distantly, as you lean forward to take his face in your palms and press your forehead against his.

"I hurt you," he says numbly.

"No," you respond instantly. "Life hurt me… life hurt us both. That's not your fault. It's never been your fault."

Jason sighs wearily, letting his head fall forward so that his forehead is resting on your shoulder as his eyes slip closed. There's a dull, throbbing pain in his head and his side aches and he's choking on too much hatred to stop you when you press kisses to his palms and his knuckles and the side of his head that you can reach.

There is too much weariness in him to stop you from loving him.

"Let's… go to bed," you say quietly, feeling the way he slumps against you as the fatigue begins to take its toll on him. "Come on," you coax. He lets you stand, takes your outstretched hand willingly as you guide him to bed. He lets himself sit on the edge of the mattress heavily, slouched over himself as you sit in front of him, a damp towel in your hands.

Jason thinks of the irony of it all as he watches you take his hands in yours, wiping the blood from them that you left on him. Granted, it's still his blood, but you're the one who made a mess of it. He thinks of that as you finish cleaning him up, listens to the sounds of you scrubbing your own hands in the bathroom sink as he falls sideways into bed, haphazardly tugging the covers up around him.

When you finally slip into bed next to him, reaching out so that you can cling to him like a lifeline, he wonders if maybe the blood on his hands isn't such a big deal, after all. Maybe it's the blood loss talking, maybe it's the post-fight dizziness muddling his judgement. Or maybe there is something to be said for the two of you cleaning the blood off each other's hands… again and again and again.

#fic rec #to be reviewed

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kikis-writing-service · 12 days

Text

this pain is inevitable (it sleeps with me while you're elsewhere)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 900

genre: hurt/comfort, kinda fluff

warnings: reader is vaguely physically & mentally unwell and also has nightmares. jason is trying so hard and he's actually doing pretty well

a/n: this picks up right after I'm not me anymore (and maybe you're not you) but I think you can read this alone and it's fine

Jason stays with you that night, holding you in his arms and comforting you quietly, gently rocking you back and forth while you relax into him. Once your eyes flutter closed and you breathe out a sigh, he takes the opportunity to really look at you up close for the first time since he'd come back.

And what he sees worries him, strikings of fear hammering against his heart and tendrils of concern and anxiety sneaking around his throat. You don't look… well. You're not acting well. Wandering around alone late at night, not being concerned when faced with immediate danger, leaving your doors and windows unlocked - all of these set off alarm bells in his head.

But even worse than that is the sight before him now. He loves you still, of course - loves having you in his arms and feeling the way you press against him in your half-asleep state. But you're lighter than you used to be; if he trails his hands up and down our waist he can count your ribs. And there are deep purple circles under your eyes indicative of someone who is consistently not getting enough sleep.

If he listens closely, Jason thinks he can hear the rattling of your breath through your lungs, as if your body is so unwell that even breathing has become difficult… but maybe he's paranoid now. Maybe he's looking for more things to worry about.

The worry does come quickly, though, when you sigh against him and begin pushing yourself away and back into a sitting position. His heart lurches at any sort of divide between the two of you - after so long without you, the only thing in the world he wants now is to hold you close, close, close. And the longing glance you send to him tells him you feel the same.

Regardless of that, though, you sit up straight and drag your laptop onto your lap, opening it and squinting against the harsh blue light as you glance at him over it.

"I'll let you, um…" you start, and he can see it, the exhaustion, the fatigue, those walls of yours closing back up. "Thank you for coming by and talking. I appreciate it."

Jason frowns. "Of course, baby. I'm here for you, yea?" He doesn't miss the way your hands bunch the couch cushions at his words.

"I know," you respond, your voice quiet and weak. Jason moves towards you, gently taking the laptop and closing it, setting it back on the coffee table and ignoring your explanations of how much work you have to do.

"I think you need some sleep," is all he offers.

"You need sleep," you retort. Jason grins and pulls you back onto his lap, burying his face in your shoulder.

"We can do that together, you know."

"Jason -"

"Just sleep. I mean it," he soothes, squeezing your hips gently. "Come on, it's late… or early. I think the sun is gonna come up soon." You hum in reluctant agreement and let him nudge you to your feet, taking your hand in his and pulling you along down your hallway.

"You still a heavy sleeper?" you ask as you swing the door open to your bedroom. Jason assures that he is and narrows his eyes slightly, but before he can ask, you let out a quick, "I was just wondering." He tugs your hand gently and turns you to look at him.

"What's up?" he asks, and there's so much gentle, so much love and care and concern in his voice that it makes your breath catch.

"Just, um… I'm kind of a bad sleeper. You know, restless - I move a lot. I don't want to keep you awake." you explain. Jason pulls you towards him and wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," he whispers into your skin, holding onto you a little tighter.

But Jason doesn't sleep that night. He lays still, keeping his breaths even and deep while you curl into his chest. He watches as you shift and turn in your sleep, breath hitching in fear and body flinching in distress.

No, he doesn't sleep through that. How could he? How could he when you, his person, his love, is so clearly scared and hurt? How could he when all he can think of is how many nights you've gone through this alone? He holds you through the night, whispering comfort into your hair that he hopes you can somehow hear through the fog of whatever nightmare has its hold on you and keeps stroking a gentle, soothing hand up and down your spine. When you start crying in your sleep, he holds you so tight he worries about leaving marks as he shushes you, promising you that he's here, that he's back and he'll keep you safe and nothing bad will ever happen to you again.

And if he, himself, lets tears trickle from the corners of his eyes as he murmurs apologies into your skin for not protecting you from whatever happened while he was gone… well, that's no one's business but his own, he supposes.

#fic rec #to be reviewed

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kikis-writing-service · 12 days

Text

you've been holding out on me (but I can't find a way to hold onto you)

comfort came against my will - series masterlist here

pairing: dick grayson x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.3k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: dick is so insecure but he's trying so hard ok. reader is still mentally ill but it's all fine in the end

a/n: I don't know why I think it's ok to end with dialogue and just stop writing but here we go ig

You don't hear Dick come home; it's the perk (or curse in this case) of him moving so silently. And of course, he's extra quiet right now. It's past 3am and he's getting home from patrol. He thinks you're asleep. When he gently pushes the bedroom door open, then, to find you sitting on the floor by the foot of your shared bed and curling into yourself, his heart stutters as panic grips him. What's wrong with you? Are you hurt? What happened? And god, of course, the one time you're hurt he's not there, the one time you need him he's gone and he's failed you and of course of course of course -

He focuses, though, stilling the questions before they can pour from his lips as he moves swiftly to crouch in front of you, eyes trailing over your form. You're not visibly injured as far as he can tell, but you have your head buried in your hands so he can't see your face and he doesn't know what's wrong and -

"Baby?" he asks tentatively, clenching his teeth and willing himself to calm down while he moves to put his hands on your shoulders. You flinch at the contact, though, an alarmed sound leaving you as your face shoots up to look at him.

"Jesus Christ Dick, make a noise or something next time," you say, annoyance hardening your tone. Dick feels his shoulders drop in relief ever so slightly; you're upset, yes. You're snapping at him in a way that you never do, so something's clearly wrong, but you're safe. You're not, well, bleeding from anywhere or in any sort of immediate, alarming physical distress. There are tear stains streaking your cheeks, though, and you're curled into yourself like it's offering you some sort of protection, and the image makes Dick's gut twist.

You're afraid, he realizes. Of him? His hands retract from their spots on your shoulders like touching you is burning him and he jerks back hard enough that he almost loses his balance.

"Dick?" your voice is practiced, your worry for him taking over as you shove your own emotions aside - god, he can see you doing it. "Hey, it's okay. You didn't… I didn't mean to flinch like that. I'm sorry." Dick makes a strangled sort of noise at your words and reaches out to you before halting and pulling his hand back towards him.

"No," he says firmly, keeping his voice quiet, gentle, soft. "No apologies. This isn't on you. I'm… sorry for scaring you."

"You didn't…" you begin, confusion clear in your voice. "You - no. No, I'm not scared of you, Dick. I'm never - I'm never scared of you." You assure as you move towards him, pushing him gently so that he's sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out. He lets you - lets you arrange him however you like and feels something in him soften when you crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. Usually, his arms would find their way around you, holding you to him. This time, though, they stay away, hovering unsurely.

"Dick," you whine. He huffs out an almost laugh. "Hold me… please." He doesn't laugh at that. He wraps his arms around you tightly, one anchored around your waist while the other tangles in your hair. The more he berates himself for how he acted, the tighter his grip gets. Here you are, clearly upset and in distress, and all he did was spiral and fall on his ass and make the whole thing about him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into your hair as he presses kisses to the crown of your head. You squeeze him back reassuringly.

"You have nothing to apologize for, baby - you don't," you respond, bracing yourself with that voice he knows he can't win an argument against. It's the one he's seen you use at work, with lawyers and professional rivals and employees. He's only been on the receiving end of it a few times, usually with you telling him to take care of himself in some way.

No, you can't go out to patrol with broken ribs - the others can cover you for a few nights. No, you're not staying up any later than this - that case will still be there in the morning. No, you're not Atlas, my love - the world will not fall apart if you take a break.

He hasn't heard that voice directed at him many times, but it's enough that he knows to snap his mouth shut and admit defeat.

"Will you tell me what's wrong, at least?" He prompts gently. You slump against him.

"Just… a bad day. That's all."

"I've seen you have bad days, babe," he reminds patiently. "This is more than that. I know it is."

"Well, this is…" you begin, chewing your bottom lip. He reaches to smooth his thumb across your lip, a silent reminder to stop. "You've seen my normal bad days," you explain. "Sometimes I get… bad. You know. Mentally ill bad." Dick hums in understanding and squeezes you tighter to his chest.

"You've been holding out on me."

"What?"

"I told you," he explains, but there's no malice. He's kind and soft and gentle and you're reminded that that's why you fell in love with him. "I told you I'd be here for you, baby. I want to be here for you. Let me in, yea?"

"I didn't want to be too much," you whisper, and Dick feels his heart crack at the sad little warble of your voice.

"Never, honey," he soothes, smoothing a hand up and down your back. "I want all of you, okay? Every bit of you. Even when it's hard - especially when it's hard. I want to help."

"I know," you sigh. "I know, I know, I just… maybe you don't know what you're getting yourself into. Maybe you think you can handle it but you can't and you'll get overwhelmed and leave. Maybe you'll get tired of asking me to let you in and that'll be what makes you leave. Either way I - I just can't find a way to hold onto you."

Dick stills at that, breath catching in his lungs and an unpleasant feeling settling in his gut. How long had you been thinking this? How many of the moments where you held onto him a little tighter, reached for him a little more, told him you loved him a little louder - how many of those moments were born of fear? He straightens himself up and tenderly grabs your chin in his hand, guiding you until you're eye-to-eye with him. This has to be fixed, he thinks. Now. you're his. His love, his person, his everything. And you're, what, sitting here alone in a dark apartment worried about him leaving you? Terrified of him walking away while you need him? No. No, this has to be fixed.

"Honey," he says, an edge in his voice that makes you straighten up. It's the one you've heard him use while he's working, when he's donned his Nightwing gear and is commanding a room full of vigilantes and heroes. It's not a voice he's used many times with you, but you know it well enough to sit still and listen when he uses it. "I'm right here," he says. "Always. I'm here and I'm staying and I will never - never - walk away from you when you need me. I love you and that will never change, okay? I'm here. I promise, baby, I'm here."

#fic rec #to be reviewed

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kikis-writing-service · 12 days

Text

Nothing in my life is as easy as you (and nothing in my life is as hard)

comfort came against my will - series masterlist here

pairing: dick grayson x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: reader drinks one single beer, dick is like mostly naked the whole time, there's a bit of talk about dick possibly dying as nightwing but it's breezed past pretty quickly, there's also talk of dick cheating but he isn't actually

a/n: takes place after I’ll find you always (but I’d rather go alone) but can be read alone, it's just that reader's just found out dick's nightwing

Dick sighs as he watches you pop open a beer bottle on the edge of your shared kitchen counter, eyeing the ever-growing chip that's been left in it because of your habit. It's mostly for show - you both know he doesn't actually care - the arched brow he sends you isn't serious. You shoot a sly smile back, lifting yourself to sit on the edge of the counter, letting him come to stand between your parted legs as he towel dries his hair.

"Feeling better?" You ask, wiping the condensation from your beer bottle onto the towel that's wrapped around his waist and ignoring the indignant sound that he makes.

"Yea," he sighs. "But you didn't have to wait for me. It's late - you should be asleep."

"So should you," you shoot back. Dick doesn't quip back, though. Instead, he leans back onto his heels so that he can look at you, shaking his hair out and throwing the towel he'd been using over his shoulder as he eyes you. You grip the bottle tighter in your hand, the coldness seeping into your palm and chilling you. Having Dick Grayson look at you like that makes you feel naked, even if he's the only one wrapped in nothing but a towel.

"You seem very… okay with this," he says carefully.

"Would you like me to cry? Maybe scream a little?"

"Hm. Not particularly," he answers thoughtfully, his eyes still raking over your face.

"It's like I said, Dick. I had some idea. Sure, bumping into you in the mask was… surprising, but it's hard to keep a secret like that from someone you live with. You got a little sloppy sometimes." You point out. Dick hums thoughtfully, his hands gripping your waist as he watches you sip your drink.

"Are you angry at me?" He asks pointedly. "For not telling you. For keeping it a secret."

"Well, I would be - I don't appreciate being lied to, you know that. But mostly I'm… relieved." You trail off at the end, content to watch the beer swirl around your bottle instead of looking up at him. He lets you - for now.

"Relieved?" He questions gently, his thumbs running soothing circles over your skin where his hands are still placed firmly on your hips.

"Yea," you sigh. "Come on, Dick, you have to know how it looks…?" But when he doesn't respond, just looks at you patiently, you keep going. "You're out all night, avoiding my calls. You sneak in when the sun comes up and won't tell me where you've been. You dodge questions about it…"

"So…" Dick begins, clearly waiting for you to give him the final clue, you roll your eyes lovingly, looking at him finally.

"That all sounds like you're cheating on me, doesn't it?" You say plainly. His mouth drops open, his hands loosening their grip on your hips for a moment in shock before they tighten again, holding you as if he thinks you'll bolt if he doesn't.

"No," he rushes to say. "No, no - honey, I would never. I love you, you know that - don't you? Please tell me you know that. I would never do that to you. I would never hurt you like that." Dick's words all come out in a sort of jumbled rush, his eyes searching your face wildly for any sign that you believe him. You look at him sympathetically, reaching up with one hand to swipe the dripping curls out of his face.

"Well… you sort of already did do that to me. You weren't cheating - I know that now and I believe you, so don't sweat it, okay? But… I thought you were. For months." you tangle a hand into his hair as you speak, letting your nails scratch gently against his scalp in what Dick knows is supposed to be a soothing motion. It shouldn't be you, he thinks. It shouldn't be you having to comfort me for the things I've done.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, babe," he says simply, like all other words have become lost to him.

"It's ok," you answer breezily, and his shoulders relax a fraction when he realizes that it's only a little bit forced. "You were actually out there getting shot at and beaten up, so really I was worried for nothing, wasn't I?" Sarcasm seeps into your voice and Dick smiles sheepishly.

"I don't get beaten up every night. I'm just a bit more skilled than that."

"You'd better be."

Silence weighs down on the two of you after that, the severity of it all beginning to creep into your thoughts. Looking up at the man you love, you can't help but wonder what this changes between the two of you. He could die out there, you think. He could die for a cause greater than our love and I would have nothing left of him but a tarnished memory. It's not a conversation you're ready to have with him. Based on the way his fingers sink into the fat of your hips and he stares at you, Dick doesn't seem to be particularly ready to have that talk, either. Oh well. Hopefully he doesn't die before you can.

"Can I ask you something?" He offers quietly, and you hope desperately that it's a white flag of some sort, an offer to change the subject to something that doesn't make your stomach churn with worry.

"Go ahead."

"If you thought I was cheating on you, why did you… stay with me? Why did you put up with it? That… that doesn't really seem like you, babe." He winces after he says it, as if the way your brows shoot up at the question makes him wish he could take it all back. Not exactly the topic change you were hoping for.

"I'm not easy to love," you say simply. Dick looks a bit alarmed. "I thought maybe… it was fair of you. Maybe I was asking enough of you when I asked for you to love me at all. Maybe you deserved to go out at night and be with other people who weren't… so difficult."

The silence that drips between the two of you is icy. You sort of wished you'd just slapped him or something. Then that look on his face would make more sense. That awed, horrified, painful look.

"Do you really…" he says haltingly. "Do you really think that little of me? Do you - do you think that little of you?" You sigh, placing your beer on the counter beside you and hooking a finger into where his towel is wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you between your legs.

"I think that sometimes I assume things that I shouldn't. And this time, the person who usually talks me down from that was, well -" you gesture to Dick with the hand that's not still firmly holding him to you by his towel. "- the subject of those thoughts. I couldn't go to you about you. I was trying to figure it out on my own and, admittedly, I'm not always good at that."

"You never asked me to love you," he blurts out. "I begged you. I fell in love with you and I begged you to take me and it took months for you to say yes to me."

"Okay, yes, but -"

"You're more than I deserve. You're… you're everything to me, baby. Everything. Nothing in my life has ever been as easy as loving you."

"Now that just can't be true," You shoot back, but any malice in your voice is dissolved by the way he pressed his lips to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you to pull you impossibly close to him.

"All the things in my life that have gone so wrong," he says quietly, a shaky quality to his voice that you're not used to. "Loving you is so goddamn right. I'll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if you let me." You sigh against him at his words, your heart squeezing in your chest as you press your lips to his pec, littering kisses across the skin there.

"You don't have to work eternally to gain my love," you say gently. "It's already yours. I'm already yours."

"And only yours," he murmurs, his lips still planted firmly against your forehead. You huff out something that's almost a laugh.

"Of course," you say, and Dick finds himself eternally relieved that the easiness in your voice is much less forced now. "Only mine."

#fic rec #to be reviewed

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kikis-writing-service · 20 days

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practice makes perfect | series masterlist status: completed total word count: 25.7k

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI

tag: #practice makes perfect

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

#fic rec #if you want some good angst #i love pining #to be reviewed

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kikis-writing-service · 20 days

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Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Prologue

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 7839 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together.

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

Long summary I know, but I'm attempting something that I haven't tried to do in a long time and I've had this thought in my head for ages so I've just got to get it out now. This story will cover the plot from Season One to the beginning of Season Three. Apologies if anything is vague or inaccurate, I haven't watched the show in a while and cannot be bothered going back to get it right when the main plot of this story is entirely of my own design and not canon. Also, for the sake of the growing-up-together part, I've brought Dick's family's death up so he is taken in by Bruce earlier than 12 years old. I've always loved this version of Dick Grayson (Nightwing) in Young Justice and I hope I do him justice for those of you who also loved the show and him xx

~~~

(10 years old)

'Don't worry, my beloved,' Diana said in a soothing voice, patting her daughter's head gently as the car pulled up. 'It's not so scary on the inside.'

Wayne Manor was made of grey columns and dark shadows it seemed to little ten-year-old Y/N, who couldn't shake the feeling that the house was full of ghosts. It was an imposing structure, making her wonder how anyone would choose to live in such a cold and lifeless place.

'I want to go home, Mother,' she whimpered, backing away from the car window.

Diana turned her daughter's head to face her, giving her best reassuring smile to alleviate some of her daughter's worries. 'We will, but I need to take care of something first and I can't leave you at home alone. My very good friend has kindly offered for his butler to look after you while we sort our business out. He has a son that I think you will get along with quite well.'

Y/N couldn't believe that a child lived in the scary house outside, but she knew when not to question her mother.

Her mother was always busy, it didn't matter what time of the day or night. Y/N didn't quite know what her mother did, but she knew it was dangerous, as her mother would come home with cuts and bruises, exhausted from whatever she'd just been doing. The partial truth of it all came out just last week, as Y/N and her nanny had been attacked in their small apartment in Washington DC. The nanny had locked Y/N in the bathroom when the men attacked so Y/N didn't see what happened to her. But Y/N had heard her screams, had heard the men laughing at her anguish. She'd heard her mother finally arrive and slaughter the men. And when Y/N was finally let out of the bathroom, her mother's red, white, blue and gold metallic outfit was covered in blood, as was the sword she'd dropped as she pulled Y/N into her arms tightly.

Whatever kind of work her mother and her mother's "good friend" were involved in, if she said Wayne Manor was the safest place to be when she worked, then Y/N wouldn't argue.

It didn't stop Y/N from squeezing her mother's hand to the point of cut off circulation as they walked from the car into the scary house.

'Miss Prince,' a man in a tuxedo said in welcome. He was partially bald and his moustache twitched when he spoke.

'Alfred,' Diana said, giving the older man a warm smile. 'So good to see you again. And please, I am Diana to friends and family.'

'Of course,' Alfred said, a cheeky smile on his face, 'but forgive me if I prefer to be a little old-fashioned, Miss Prince.'

'Very well,' Diana said, turning her gaze down to Y/N. 'This is my daughter, Y/N.'

Alfred smiled warmly down at Y/N, crouching ever so slightly to hold out his hand. 'A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/N. Welcome to Wayne Manor.'

Y/N hesitated in taking his hand. She'd always been taught to be cautious around strangers.

'Come on, Y/N,' Diana insisted. 'Don't be rude.'

Y/N, with her free hand, accepted Alfred's outstretched one, giving it a firm shake like she'd seen her mother do with people she had meetings with at work and at home.

'My, you certainly have your mother's strength,' Alfred commented as he stood back up, shaking his hand a little. 'I'll be sure not to mess with you when you grow older.'

Y/N didn't have time to process what Alfred meant when two dark figures walked down a grand staircase into the lobby they stood in. As they drew closer to the light, Y/N distinguished one as a tall and broad-shouldered man with dark hair, neat attire, and a stern face. Beside him was a small child close to her height, also with dark hair and flashing blue eyes. Unlike the taller man, though, his face was bright with intrigue and mischief.

'Diana,' the tall man said by way of greeting as he reached the ground floor with the boy.

'Bruce,' she replied, walking herself and Y/N over to him and the boy. 'Thank you for offering to look after Y/N tonight.'

'Well, it won't be me personally,' Bruce replied, 'but I'm sure Alfred will be able to look after them while we're gone.'

'If I could raise you to be the man that you are today, Master Bruce, I am sure two beautiful children won't be much of a task,' Alfred called out casually as he closed the front door and exited the room.

'I've contacted Clark,' Bruce continued. 'He says he'll meet us at the rendezvous point. We should leave soon.'

Diana nodded. 'Okay.'

To her surprise, Y/N found Bruce's gaze on her, and his stern expression softened as he looked her over. 'This must be the famous Y/N I've heard so much about.'

Y/N remembered her mother's lessons on etiquette and nodded politely. 'Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne.'

Bruce surprised her again as a small smile broke out, making him look younger and less intimidating than before. 'It's nice to meet you too, Y/N,' he said, looking down to the boy beside him. 'This is my ward, Richard.'

The young boy groaned in annoyance. 'It's Dick, Bruce. You know I don't like it when you use my real name.'

Bruce sighed, but conceded. 'Sorry, this is Dick. I hope the two of you get along tonight, Y/N.'

Before Y/N could reply, Dick stepped forward so that they only stood a step apart. His blue eyes were so bright as they scanned over her, and it took all of her will not to hide behind her mother.

He squinted sceptically at her. 'Do you like sparring, Y/N?'

'Dick,' Bruce exclaimed, eyes wide with horror. 'That's not something you should ask-'

Y/N ignored Bruce's protests as she locked eyes with Dick. She saw the challenge in them, and whatever fears she had about coming here faded away. A fire sparked in her, and she couldn't help herself but grab Dick's unsuspecting wrist and flip him over her and land him on his back. Before he could get up, she pressed a knee to his neck softly as she held him down.

'Y/N!' Diana exclaimed. 'That is not how we treat-'

She was cut off by the sound of Dick laughing, a sound so pure and light it brightened up the gloomy interior of the manor. Dick looked up at Y/N, not even bothered by the fact she was an inch away from cutting off his airway. 'Oh yeah, we're going to get along just fine, Bruce.'

The last of her apprehension to the arrangement disappeared as she released Dick from her death grip and helped him to his feet, a bright smile gracing her features.

'Where'd you learn to flip like that?' Dick asked.

'My mother,' she answered proudly. 'We've practiced for thirty minutes everyday since I was eight. I've also been taking classes back in Washington in judo and karate.'

'Cool!' Dick said. 'Maybe you can teach me some moves?'

'Sure!' Y/N answered.

Without even hesitating, Dick grabbed Y/N's hand and took off running to who knew where, words falling from him like a dam that had just been broken. 'Awesome! And then I can show you some of the cool gymnast tricks I picked up in the circus.'

'You were in the circus? That's so cool!'

The two of them were lost in their own world as Bruce and Diana remained in the lobby, looking after their children lovingly before they disappeared completely. When silence filled the room once more, they turned to each other.

'How much does she know?' Bruce asked.

Diana sighed. 'Enough to know that she will never have a normal life. Not after the incident last week. I thought I had a bit more time.'

Bruce placed a hand on his friend's shoulder comfortingly. 'I'm sorry, Diana. Truly. It's hard enough protecting a child who isn't your own. At least Dick has known death before. He knows everything.'

Diana nodded her appreciation, patting Bruce's hand before he let it drop. 'She will know, one day, what all this means. What her destiny is. Until now she has shown how much of Steve she has in her.' Diana paused at the memory of her fallen lover, feeling the tears rise up whenever she thought of him. 'But I fear she will grow to inherit my power, my responsibilities. I don't know if I'm ready to let her become that for the world. Not yet.'

'Diana,' Bruce said softly, 'she might not have a choice one day. I fear the same thing for Dick. You and I won't be around forever. The world will look to them to help, one day.'

Somewhere in the distance, Y/N and Dick's laughter resonated through the manor, giving it a warmth Bruce hadn't felt in a while. He smiled at the sensation. 'But for now, they have a choice. They can choose to be kids. Until the world no longer needs us.'

~~~

(11 years old)

'Uuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhh,' Y/N groaned as she flopped onto Dick's bed, textbook flattening over her face in defeat. 'I give up. I'm never going to pass this infuriating maths exam next week.'

All Y/N received was an amused laugh from the dark-haired boy, resulting in her throwing her textbook at his head where we sat on the floor. But Dick had always been quick, dodging the book easily. He was even more quick since they'd started training with each other since she moved to Gotham permanently for school.

She was enrolled at the same school as Dick: Gotham Academy. It was the best school in the area, and when she'd received her scholarship, her mother couldn't refuse her wishes to move. Y/N stayed in the boarding house for the most part, but being friends with the Bruce Wayne's only son certainly had its perks. Such as getting out of the boarding house whenever she needed to study and train without prying eyes.

Dick laughed again. 'Come on, Y/N,' he said, picking up her strewn textbook and offering it back to her. 'It's not so bad. We're just trying to find x.'

Y/N rolled over onto her stomach so Dick wasn't upside down anymore. 'Yes, and it is impossible! I mean, they give us nothing to try and figure out a and b, but we need them both to find out x. How?!'

When Y/N didn't take her book back, Dick put it on the ground and shuffled forwards. He did so until he was half an arm's length away from Y/N's face where it rested in her hands.

'All right, let's have a break,' he said. 'Focus on something else. How about... Ooo, I know! What would your vigilante name be?'

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed. 'What?'

'Your vigilante name,' Dick reported. 'You know, like a code name for ordinary people to refer you by. Like Bruce for example, he's Batman.'

'So like my mother too, who is Wonder Woman,' Y/N added.

Dick nodded. 'Correct. When we start fighting bad guys - and we will some day - we will need alter egos so villains don't pursue us outside of an ordinary mission.'

Y/N sat up as Dick jumped to his feet, pulling out all kinds of ninja-karate moves, many of which Y/N had taught him herself over the last year. 'I think I'll be something winged too. Batman needs to be accompanied by another flying animal, don't you think?'

'That is... logical,' Y/N admitted, though not understanding his motives for the specific topic. 'I haven't given much thought to the matter, honestly. I'm too busy trying to find this dumb x value.'

Dick landed a slam kick against thin air before he took up a normal standing position in front of Y/N. He smiled down proudly at her. 'I was thinking of just bird,' he confessed, taking a seat beside her on his bed, 'but then I thought that was boring. Batman and Bird, yeah sooooo intimidating. So I was thinking maybe Hawk, or Sparrow-'

'Why does it have to be intimidating?' Y/N asked.

Dick paused for the first time in the conversation and looked at her as if she was crazy. 'Because Batman is intimidating. I don't want to be seen as a sissy when I rock up beside him to fights. I defs won't feel the aster, then.'

'But shouldn't a hero be giving people reassurance and hope when they come to save people?' Y/N countered. 'Why would you want to be something that all people dread when you enter the door. I think a hero's name should be strong and encouraging. Something like my mother's.'

Dick rolled his eyes. 'You're just saying that because she's you're mum.'

Y/N shook her head. 'No I'm not. I've seen it first hand. When my mother shows up to lend a hand, the people cry with joy and relief because they know she will do all that she can to save them. I'm not saying Batman - Bruce - doesn't do the same thing, but I just know that when I have to be a hero, I would hope my name inspires people to keep hoping. Not fear me.'

Y/N watched Dick process her words, saw his piercing blue eyes grow distant as he looked down at his hands. For a moment, Y/N worried she'd ruined everything. That she'd overstepped. Dick and Bruce's relationship - it was more of an arrangement, in her opinion - was tenuous to say the least, the two of them always dancing on a very thin line that could snap at any moment when push comes to shove. Either way, it wasn't her place to comment on how Dick should handle his relationship to Bruce.

However, when Dick looked up to Y/n again, she was relieved to find he wasn't angry at her. In fact, a soft smile had bloomed on his lips.

'You're right,' he said softly. 'I don't have to be scary. Bruce has that all covered.'

'Glad to hear it,' Y/N replied with a a reciprocal smile. 'So... anymore ideas on your name?'

'Well, I still believe it's got to be a bird of sorts,' Dick answered. 'But let's steer clear of the birds of prey, shall we? Maybe Jaybird, or Bluebird. No, that's stupid. Raven? Nah, that's going backwards...'

'How about Robin?' Y/N suggested, and Dick's smile broadened to the point Y/N was scared he'd split his mouth right open.

'That's perfect!' he exclaimed, bringing her into a hug. 'Batman and Robin. It's got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?'

'It sure does,' Y/N said, grateful to have helped.

When Dick let her go, he said, 'Now how about you? What do you think your vigilante name should be?'

Y/N thought about it for a moment, but could only come up with one name. 'I like Wonder Woman, but mother already has that. I don't think two of us would make it easy for the public, especially if she is still working.'

'That is true,' Dick replied, turning away from her as he delved into deep thought. Y/N could tell he was thinking deeply as his tongue was poking out ever so slightly - the thing he always did when he was concentrating really hard. Y/N always found it amusing since the day she met him.

Y/N jumped a little when Dick suddenly cried out with excitement. He turned back to her and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look directly at him. 'How about we take inspiration from your mother? Use part of her name to create yours. Like Wonder Girl!'

Y/N shook her head. 'No, that's really lame, Dick.'

'Wonder Kid?'

'No.'

'Wonder... Child?'

'No!'

Dick snapped his fingers and his eyes brightened as Y/N assumed a great thought popped into his head. 'I've got it: Wonderess! You know, like Wonder Woman and goddess put together!'

'Wonderess...' Y/N tested it out on her tongue, and she smiled at how easy it rolled off. It was simple, it was to the point. She could just hear the world now, shouting and screaming and crying her name for joy, for help.

She couldn't stop her smile from widening and matching Dick's. 'I love it.'

'Great!' Dick slid back down to the floor and grabbed the forgotten textbook she'd thrown at him earlier. 'Now, oh mighty and powerful Wonderess, time for you to conquer the alluding and difficult enemy that is mathematics.'

Despite her earlier anguish, Y/N felt rejuvenated and took the book from Dick and opened it back to the page she'd failed to understand. 'Then conquer mathematics we shall, oh sneaky and charming Robin.'

Dick flashed her one of his dazzling smiles. 'Oh yeah, I can see it now. Robin is going to be popular with the ladies when I'm older.'

Y/N rolled her eyes, but couldn't contain her smile. 'Don't make me throw this book at you again.'

Dick raised his hands in mock surrender before they both dove back into their respective homework. But after five minutes of work, Y/N had another thought.

'Dick. What does "aster" mean?' ~~~

(13 years)

When Y/N had walked into the Hall of Justice earlier that day, she never imagined that she'd end up helping her best friend and the sidekicks of the Flash and Aquaman break into a top secret and highly secured lab centre, get captured by the mad scientists running the show down there, break out and now be standing in front of the Justice League as a Superman look-alike (that they'd broke into for and out of with) stared down his creation's inspiration.

'Start talking' Batman said, finally breaking the tense silence.

Between Kaldur, Wally, Dick, and Y/N (Superboy, Y/N realised early on, didn't talk much), the story of how they ended up at Cadmus and pretty much destroyed it was eventually told. Afterwards, the blockbuster monster they'd fought was taken away by Green Lantern and some other League members. Y/N couldn't help but peak at her mother as Wonder Woman herself conversed with Superman and Martian Manhunter. For a brief moment, Diana looked her daughter's way then quickly averted her gaze. But Y/N knew from that one look that her mother was unimpressed by her actions today.

'Cadmus will be investigated,' Batman said, after Superman said a frosty goodbye to his younger clone. 'All fifty-two levels. But let's make one thing clear-'

'You should've called!' the Flash finished, crossing his arms, clearly disappointed in his sidekick's efforts.

'End results aside, we are not happy,' Batman continued. 'You hacked Justice League systems; you disobeyed direct orders; and you endangered lives. You will not be doing this again.'

Y/N's heart faltered at the very notion. Despite the wreckage and the stress and the struggles they had faced, Y/N very much liked working with Dick, with Kaldur and Wally too. Even the Superboy was enjoyable at some points. To never work with them again was not something she expected she would miss after one mission.

Kaldur and the other boys must've read her mind, as he stepped forward, standing tall and speaking with a strong voice well beyond his years. 'I'm sorry,' he began, eyes never leaving Batman, 'but we will.'

'Aqualad,' Aquaman started, stepping up behind Batman. 'Stand down.'

'Apologies, my King. But no,' Aqualad replied. 'We did good work here tonight. The work you trained us to do. Together. On our own. We forged something powerful. Important.'

'If this is about your treatment at the hall,' the Flash started, 'the four of you-'

'The five of us,' Wally corrected, looking directly at Superboy as he did, 'and it's not.'

'Batman,' Dick said, stepping to the front of the group. 'We're ready to use what you taught us. Or why teach us at all?'

'Why let them tell us what to do?' Superboy interrupted, pushing past Dick to take the lead. 'It's simple, get on board. Or get out of the way.'

Y/N joined her friends in staring down the heads of the Justice League. It was an intimidating figure they all posed, but Y/N knew she was doing the right thing. That her and her friends had done the right thing tonight.

Diana joined Batman, the Flash, and Martian Manhunter, her face unreadable and voice monotone. 'Are you sure this is the path you would like to forge, Wonderess?' she asked, her voice echoing in the crater they stood in.

Apart from Dick and Bruce, no one else (to Y/N's knowledge) knew that Wonder Woman and Wonderess were related in any manner. Not that either disguised themselves like other heroes did - purposefully hiding their faces to conceal their identities like Batman and the Flash - but neither outwardly acknowledged their true relationship either.

However, Y/N could tell her mother wasn't just asking her as her sidekick, but as her daughter. Was Y/N really prepared to risk all she had trained for, for some... strangers?

Y/N eyed the golden lasso that hung at her mother's hip, and opened her hand to summon the seemingly never-ending rope into her hand. It wrapped around several times, then glowed as Y/N clenched a tight fist around it.

'I am more certain than I have ever been, Wonder Woman,' Y/N replied, feeling the lasso urge her to speak all her truth. 'While I still endeavour to one day be your successor, my place is with my friends right now. We need to walk this path together, wherever it leads. I know this to be absolute truth.'

Y/N sucked in a breath as she let go of the lasso, feeling slightly drained from the power it had over her. Dick put a hand on her back to brace her as she recovered. Once Y/N had caught her breath, she spared Dick a grateful smile, which he reciprocated.

Just as it had been from day one, they would ride this wave together. No matter how rough.

The very next day, the five of them were taken to Mount Justice, the backup facility for the Justice League as Batman explained. Upon arrival, they met M'gann, Martian Manhunter's niece, and soon after Artemis was brought into the mix.

Soon, they were the Young Justice.

~~~

(13 years old)

'Congratulations team, you have won the day,' Red Tornado said as he laid dismembered on the ground.

The rest of the team had just reconnected as the Justice computer phased a date and time code onto one of the glass walls of the Watchtower. It read: January 01, 00:00 EST.

'Happy New Year, Justice League,' the computer announced.

To no one's surprise, Wally picked up Artemis and pulled her in for a long-awaited kiss. M'gann and Connor paired up, so did Rocket and Aqualad surprisingly.

Y/N felt uncomfortable watching them all making out, so she turned to her best friend so they could give them all some privacy. 'Hey Dick, let's go-'

But as she turned around, Y/N saw that Dick had also paired off with someone: Zatanna. This time, Y/N couldn't help but stare as the two of them made out.

Since day one of Zatanna joining the team, Y/N had noticed Dick had a thing for her. Who wouldn't? She was beautiful, she was just a year older than them but that just made her more desirable, and she was good with magic!

Something stirred inside Y/N, something that twisted her guts to the point she thought she'd throw up. Was it jealousy? No, she wasn't the jealous type. Besides, Dick was her best friend, no one could change that. He could kiss whoever he wanted to kiss. At the end of the day, they'd still talk and laugh and spar and go get ice cream together.

...Right?

'Human customs still allude me,' Red Tornado said from his place on the floor.

'You're not the only one...' Y/N mumbled to herself, standing all alone.

~~~

(16 years old)

Y/N was just sparring on a test dummy when Dick entered the training ring looking a little worse for wear, his usual mischievous smile not visible.

'Hey,' Y/N said, finishing up her combo of kicks and punches, heaving in deep breaths. 'What's up, bird brain?'

He didn't reply straight away, instead standing on the edge of the fight ring as if afraid to step out of the shadows and into the light. Y/N raised an eyebrow in confusion. 'Dick?'

When he didn't respond again, Y/N walked over to him. And when she got closer, she realised why he remained in the darkness.

'Have you been crying?' she asked softly, scared to speak too loud in case he ran away.

Dick wasn't an emotional guy. He just wasn't. He was the mischievous gremlin who kept the team together with his witty remarks, charm, and sheer intelligence. And even though Kaldur had been the leader of their team for years now, Dick always wanted to be a leader like Bruce was for the Justice League. He never gave himself room to be emotional.

So for him to stand in front of Y/N with red-rimmed eyes and tear marks streaking down his face, whatever had just happened had to be so impactful it finally broke his resolve.

He averted his eyes. 'Zatanna,' he started, biting his lip to suppress sobs falling out between the words. 'She broke up with me.'

Subconsciously, Y/N had been dreaming about hearing those words for a long time. She didn't quite understand why, as Zatanna was a close friend and Dick was by far her best friend so of course she only ever wanted happiness for them. But now that Dick stood in front of her so broken and sad, Y/N only felt sorry and remorse.

'Oh Dick,' she said. 'I'm so sorry... How can I help?'

Dick shook his head vigorously, eyes still averted from her. 'Can you just... Can we spar please? I think I really need that right now.'

His tone was restrained, as if he were holding back what he really thought. Y/N had half a thought to suggest they just talk, but when he finally looked directly at her, how could she refuse her best friend? After all, she was the only one he never wore his glasses around. Even after all these years with the team, he trusted no one else but her with his identity.

The original members knew, but even then he still wore his shades around them half the time if he wasn't in his vigilante suit. But not around Y/N, though. Never around Y/N.

'All right,' Y/N conceded, walking with him back to the centre of the fighting ring. She stood in her usual starting position, hands raised and feet split ready to fight. 'Same rules as last time?'

Dick nodded. 'No flying from you, no gadgets from me. Just us.'

'Perfect.'

Y/N launched into a heated sparring match, much more heated than any other match she'd had before with him. Sparring matches are usually to practice a skill, usually some punches can be pulled. But not now, Dick was throwing himself into everything, becoming sloppy, opening himself up. While the first few jabs Y/N got in were small victories, she soon grew worried as he grew more and more reckless as the match progressed.

'You're opening yourself up too easily, Dick,' Y/N commented between heavy breaths. 'Tighten up your stance.'

Dick groaned with frustration in answer, throwing another punch at her which she easily ducked and palm-punched his abdomen hard. He stumbled back as he caught his breath, but Y/N took it as her chance to end the fight as she charged at him, crash-tackled him to the mat with a bit more super-strength than she'd been using and pinning his limbs to the ground.

Dick struggled under her, but she refused to let go. 'Concede, Grayson. Now,' she demanded.

She rarely used his last name, only when he was in serious trouble or when she really needed him to listen. So he stopped, and he looked up at her and he nodded. 'I concede,' he said between huffs of air.

Y/N nodded her head in acknowledgement before stepping off him and helping him to his feet. For years they had been the same height, but once Dick had hit fourteen, he shot up fast. He was still lean and more on the skinny side, but he was toned in certain places and he now stood a head taller than Y/N. But she didn't let his new height stop her from locking eyes with him.

'Do you feel... somewhat better now?' she asked cautiously, feeling that Dick was on the brink of an explosion, she was just unsure what kind it would be.

To her surprise, Dick's piercing blue eyes welled up with tears. 'No,' he said.

Y/N immediately wrapped her arms around him, and Dick fell into her and wrapped himself around her as if she were a warm blanket on a cold night. They stood like that - with Dick crying silently into her shoulder and Y/N rubbing soothing circles into his back - for who knew how long. A minute, two, an hour maybe. It didn't matter, Dick needed Y/N'S help so she would stay there as long for as it took.

'She said she couldn't do it anymore,' he said finally, tears finally finished running, but he still didn't break from Y/N's embrace. 'The long distance.'

'Being promoted to the Justice League is a huge commitment, Dick,' Y/N offered.

'It's not just that, though,' he said. 'I think she couldn't take me anymore. Ever since Jason-'

His voice cracked on the mention of his fallen brother, the next ward Bruce had taken under his wing. When he joined the team, Jason took over the Robin mantle, giving Dick freedom to explore a new path of vigilante identity. One outside of Bruce's shadow and the dynamic duo of Batman and Robin. He'd settled upon Nightwing - another name Y/N helped come up with - and he'd taught Jason everything he knew about being Robin and how he could find his own meaning for the role.

But Jason never got the chance to do the same for the next Robin, who Bruce mentioned would never be found after Jason's death. Jason had been killed on a mission with the Batman himself only a month ago, and Dick had secretly been a wreck ever since. He'd learnt from his sponsor who to hide his emotions, but Y/N assumed he had to let it out to someone or someones every so often. Those people were herself, and no doubt Zatanna.

Despite her bubbly and adventurous personality, Zatanna knew death, knew grief. It suddenly angered Y/N at the thought that Zatanna had dumped Dick because he was grieving and couldn't give her the attention he had become known to give her daily.

Y/N held her tongue as she pulled him tighter, though. Now was not the time to rub salt into his open and bloody wound.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me, Dick,' Y/N reassured him. 'I understand.'

He squeezed her tighter. 'First my family, then Jason, now Zatanna. Promise me you won't leave too. Promise.'

'I promise, Dick,' Y/N answered. 'I'll always be here if you need me.'

Dick finally pulled away from her, but only far enough that he still held her in his arms and she had to angle her head harshly upwards to look him in the eye. Despite the redness, Dick's eyes still shone a blue that didn't seem quite real - like the colour of the purest, cleanest ocean.

So beautiful.

'You're my best friend, Y/N,' he said softly, a grateful smile finally breaking through his sadness. 'You know that right?'

Once upon a time, Y/N wouldn't have hesitated in answering. Yes, she would say, because it was the truth. It was the truth still, but a discomforting feeling in her stomach squirmed at the words "best friend". What he meant to her went past the simple label, at least in her opinion. But she just couldn't quite put it into words yet.

'Y-Yeah, I know,' she stammered out quickly. She had paused way too long to answer. 'Just like you're mine, bird brain. Don't think a bunch of tears is going to scare me off so easily.'

She was so glad to be the one to make him laugh then. It was the most melodic sound she'd ever heard, even though she'd heard it a thousand times before. Dick could never be tiring to her.

Finally - and thankfully - Dick stepped out of her arms, allowing her to suck in air that had previously been missing from between them. But he stole it all right back when he flashed her that charming smile of his.

'Guess I'll see you tomorrow, Wonderess,' he said. 'Thanks again for the sparring. I'll be sure to tighten up for next time.'

'G-Great, good, excellent,' Y/N stumbled over her words, unable to breathe when he smiled so causally yet so beautifully at her. 'See you tomorrow.'

Dick gave her a tiny wave as he left the room. As he left, Artemis and M'gann strolled in wearing civvies. They greeted and farewelled Dick before continuing to walk to Y/N, who stood frozen where Dick had left her staring after him.

'You okay, Y/N?' Artemis asked, waving a hand in front of Y/N's face. 'Helloooooo. Earth to Y/N?'

'Maybe she's fallen into a hypnotic state,' M'gann suggested. 'Or worse! A mind ant has taken over her brain! I'll have to go inside her mind to weed it out.'

That finally disrupted Y/N from her stupor. 'No! No need for that. No mind ants here,' she frantically said just M'gann was about to enter her mind.

'Then why were you looking like Medusa had risen from her mythical death and frozen you in place?' Artemis asked, deadpan.

'First of all, Medusa was a real person. Greek Mythology is real, or therefore my mother and I wouldn't be here today,' Y/N countered. 'Second of all... I think I a have a crush on Dick.'

As soon as she said the words, she knew them to be true. She didn't need to discuss it with the girls, she already knew.

Y/N Prince, daughter of Wonder Woman, had a huge, fat crush on her best friend, and son of Batman himself, Richard 'Dick' Grayson.

'Shit,' all three girls said at once.

~~~ (18 years old)

Y/N watched with sad eyes as two of her closest friends walked away under the cover of darkness. Again. Kaldur and Artemis - the latter now legally dead - waved farewell before they entered a small submarine, on their way to continue infiltration of the Light on Kaldur's father's ship.

Two figures stepped up beside Y/N. 'Well,' Wally started, 'I guess that's that.'

'For now,' Dick said. 'I promise, Wally, we'll bring them both back.'

'Yeah, whatever,' Wally said, turning to leave. 'You're my bro, Dick. But if Artemis is really killed because of this, I will never forgive you.'

Wally's footsteps resounded through the empty fishing warehouse as Y/N continued to stare out at the ocean. Soon, it was just her and Dick.

'We should head back to headquarters,' Dick suggested. 'Someone might start to wonder where we are.'

But Y/N didn't turn to leave, still transfixed by the ocean. 'I thought I was okay with all this,' Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. 'I convinced myself that this was for the greater good. But now I'm not so sure.'

'What do you mean, Y/N?' Dick asked.

'The lying, Dick,' she answered, finally turning to him. 'The secrets, the faking of deaths and undercover betrayals. If we keep this up, it'll tear the team apart.'

'It won't,' Dick reassured her, his voice so certain and sure. 'When this is all over and we explain it all, they will understand. I expect some disappointment and hostility for a while, but one day they'll understand why we did what we did. But this team we've built, Y/N, it is stronger than all this. I know it.'

Y/N shook her head, wanting to believe him but unable to put aside the horrible feeling in her gut. 'I know they are strong. I just wish there was another way for us to win.'

'Trust me, if there was, I would've taken it,' Dick said, and even with a mask on, Y/N knew he was telling the truth. 'I want all of us fighting this together. For now, we've just got to trust in Kaldur and Artemis that they will succeed.'

Y/N nodded, her gaze returning to the flat ocean waters where her friends had long since left behind. 'Maybe you should've sent me like I suggested,' Y/N said half-heartedly. 'You're a great substitute for leader, Dick. Truly. But the team took Kaldur's betrayal heavily, and Artemis and Wally were out of the game. We shouldn't have brought them back in. Wonder Girl is trained up enough to take my place. You don't need me.'

'Don't say that.'

Y/N could barely react as she was grabbed by her shoulders and forced to face Dick, who had crouched so he was eye-level to her and leaned in so she could see the slightest gleam of his pupils through the white mask.

'Don't say that,' Dick repeated, his grip on her shoulders firm and grounding. 'We do need you. You're a founding member too, Y/N. Regardless of if it were Kaldur or not, the team would've struggled without any one of us. And the only reason I was able to lead this team this past year is because I knew you had my back the entire time.'

'Really?' she asked, the one word a struggle to get out.

His expression softened and he loosened his grip. But Dick didn't release her yet. 'Y/N, you are always the one giving hope to the team whenever I can't raise their spirits. You were the one to console them after Kaldur leaving. You are strong and brave and you never give up, especially when the chips are down. And they have been down on us a lot lately.'

Y/N caught her breath as Dick released one shoulder to use his pointer finger to hold her chin up, making her look directly at him. 'It kills me that you don't see yourself how everyone else sees you. Which is amazing, Y/N. Amazing and wonderful.'

Y/N swore Dick could hear her heart thudding rapidly against her chest. In the two years since realising it, her crush on her best friend hadn't faded like she'd hoped. Instead, it had grown and blossomed but Dick still couldn't see how much she absolutely adored him. She'd resigned herself to the fact that he would never feel that way about her, and also if they were to date, then it would just make working together all the more complicated. She couldn't compromise on the team's relationship.

But as Y/N looked into Dick's eyes now, a little spark of hope flickered inside her. He was so close to her, he had to feel her heartbeat. He had to know... right?

A wind of doubt blew out the spark and she stepped away from Dick so her head would stop spinning. 'You just had to get a pun in there, didn't you?' she said, surprised at how calm and casual her voice came out all things considered.

Dick took a moment to gather himself, as if he too had been lost deep in thought. But soon that infamous smile of his stretched his lips and Y/N knew she could never say no to him. 'What can I say? I'm an opportunist.'

'I thought you were a gymnast.'

'I am also your best friend, and so I am legally obliged to slip in puns about you whenever possible.'

'Oh, do you now?' Y/N asked, lightly shoving him as she made for the warehouse door. Dick was right, they needed to head home before anyone started questioning their whereabouts.

Dick quickly caught up. 'I mean it Y/N. You are my best friend.'

'I know,' Y/N said nonchalantly, trying not to let the words sting too much. But she managed a soft smile as she said, 'And you are mine. Always have been...'

Dick flashed her a genuine smile, no charm, no hidden agenda behind it. He held his pinky finger up, to which Y/N linked her own with. '...Always will be,' he finished.

As they went home, Y/N felt better about Kaldur and Artemis' mission, as well as her place in the team. But she was now even more confused about Dick and how he felt about her. They were best friends, had been through so much together, it wouldn't be wise to ruin all that now.

But the way he'd looked at her, maybe there was a chance after all.

~~~

(18 years old)

'You're leaving?'

Y/N and Kaldur couldn't believe what they'd just heard. One minute, the three of them were discussing the team's next move after foiling the Reach's invasion plans and splitting the Light in half, and the next...

'That's correct,' Dick said. 'I just... I think I need to take a break for a while.'

'For how long?' Y/N asked, finally getting over the initial shock of his announcement. It had been a hectic day, full of surprises and sacrifices nobody saw coming. Right now, in her opinion, everyone needed to band together, not... leave.

Dick shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't know. But it definitely won't be quick. This team has been my whole life for five years now. I think it's time I stepped away, let Kaldur take the reins again.'

'The team will not be the same without you,' Kaldur offered.

'The team already isn't the same,' Dick said solemnly, and the slightest crack in his voice indicated to Y/N what he was referring to. 'You, me, Y/N, Wally. We founded this team. Without him...'

Dick didn't need to finish. Y/N had felt Wally's absence since the moment he fazed out of existence. He saved the world, but he'd been too slow to combat the chrysalis' energy. Not even the Flash or Impulse could save him. It made Y/N so mad, because Wally must've known he wouldn't come out of it alive. He knew he was too slow, having been out of the game for so long.

And yet he did it anyway, because that was who Wally West - Kid Flash - was.

'I understand,' Kaldur said, placing a comforting hand on Dick's shoulder.

'Thanks,' Dick said, then looked to the boom tubes of the Watchtower. 'I should probably go.'

'What? Now?' Y/N asked. 'At least see the day through, Dick.'

'There's nothing else for me to see through, Y/N,' he countered, already making his way to the boom tubes to make his exit. 'Kaldur is back, and so is the Justice League. I am no longer needed.'

Kaldur didn't follow Y/N as she chased after Dick. 'At least let the team know personally you'll be leaving. Don't you think they deserve that much from you after all we've done?'

'All I did was sign Wally's death sentence,' Dick answered harshly, not even bothering to turn around and face her. 'Yeah, the team really deserves that from their substitute leader.'

The two of them stopped before the boom tubes, facing each other one last time. Y/N grabbed Dick's wrist before he could dial in his code to exit the Watchtower.

'Dick, please,' Y/N pleaded, voice tight with desperation. 'I know you're hurting right now. We all are feeling Wally's death. But the team needs you right now. I need you...'

It was a last ditch attempt at convincing him that he meant more to her than just a friend. That he was her glue, that he was important to her and the team. That, even if he was nothing else, he was her best friend, and she was his.

Always have been... Always will be.

Don't go, she wanted to say, but the words never came out. It's like Dick had always been a part of her life; she now couldn't imagine her life without his witty remarks, without his odd use of words like "aster" and "traught", without his charming smile and kind eyes. She couldn't imagine life without him. Please, don't go.

Dick's sad expression told her he'd made his mind up before he even spoke the words.

'I'm sorry, Y/N,' he said softly, pulling her into a gentle embrace where he pressed a feather-light kiss to her forehead. 'But I can't deal with this right now.'

As if in a dream, Dick stepped out of the embrace and dialled in his code for the boom tube.

'B:01 - NIghtwing,' the computer announced as the boom tube activated.

Dick was a step away from leaving Y/N behind when she called out, 'Don't be a stranger!'

She knew he had already made his mind up. But that didn't mean the two of them couldn't still be what they had always been. Best friends.

To her joy, Dick stopped and turned back around, a melancholic smile on his face as he held up his pinky finger. 'Always have been...'

Y/N reciprocated his smile as she too held up her pinky finger, imagining hooking it with his. '...Always will be,' she replied softly.

And then he was gone, and Y/N was left standing alone in the Watchtower.

She didn't realise she was crying until Dick was gone, until her senses had returned fully and felt the sensation of tears rolling down her face. That's when she acknowledged she was truly, utterly, hopelessly sad.

Because for the first time in seven years, Dick was no longer by her side. She didn't have Dick to fall back on when things got tough; she didn't have Dick to talk to about her issues with the new recruits; she didn't have Dick to laugh with after a night out at the arcade where he had failed epically at every game; she didn't have Dick reassuring her that everything would be okay, even when the world was telling them otherwise.

Dick was gone, and that was something Y/N had never expected to deal with.

'Wonderess.'

Y/N wiped her tears away before she turned to see who had called her. It was Kaldur, and based on his sympathetic expression, she knew he had heard everything.

'Batman and the rest of the Justice League wants to speak with us all,' he said.

'Right,' Y/N said, composing herself before walking over to join her friend.

Dick was gone, but she was still an integral part of Young Justice, and they needed her more now than ever. Whatever was to come their way now, they had to be strong, a united front.

Even if her heart yearned for someone who had completely abandoned her.

#fic rec #to be reviewed

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