Dick Grayson was, to put it simply, stunning. He moved through life with the ease of someone who knew his impact. His dark hair, the deep blue of his eyes, the quiet confidence in his posture—everything about him seemed polished and sure. He could’ve easily been a model if he hadn’t chosen a life filled with acrobatics, capes, and taking on villains in Gotham.
You didn’t feel like you belonged by his side, not really. Not like that. He was just… well, so out of your league. Not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, but he was also kind, funny, incredibly skilled, and genuinely caring. Whenever you looked in the mirror, it was hard not to compare yourself, wondering what he saw in you. Why would someone like him choose you?
Tonight, Dick had invited you over for a quiet evening at his apartment. You’d thrown on your comfiest sweater and jeans, feeling a little silly for even worrying about what you wore. It was just Dick, right? He didn’t care about those things. But that little voice in the back of your head kept buzzing, nagging you that maybe you didn’t look… enough. You’d brushed your hair a little extra, hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous you were tonight.
The door opened, and Dick greeted you with his trademark smile, one that instantly softened the anxiety in your chest. He pulled you in for a warm hug, and as his arms wrapped around you, you felt that familiar sense of calm he brought with him. But tonight, you couldn’t completely shake your insecurities.
"Hey, you," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I’ve been looking forward to this all day."
You managed a smile, tucking your hair behind your ear as you stepped inside. “Me too.”
Dinner was laid out on the coffee table, and you both settled onto the couch, chatting and laughing through the meal. Dick kept the conversation light, cracking jokes, making you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. It was his usual way—he always knew how to lift your spirits. But even as you laughed, that self-consciousness gnawed at you, sneaking in whenever he glanced at you too long or reached for your hand.
After dinner, you were quiet, eyes lingering on the empty plates as you tried to keep from letting it show. Dick’s hand settled on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. His gaze softened as he tilted his head, studying you.
“Alright, what’s going on? You’ve been a little… off tonight,” he said gently, his thumb tracing soft circles on your knee.
You shook your head, shrugging slightly. “It’s nothing, really. Just… feeling a little insecure, I guess.”
Dick’s brows furrowed, and he leaned closer, his eyes searching yours. “Why? Did something happen?”
You could feel your cheeks flush as you shrugged, feeling silly for even bringing it up. “I don’t know, I just… look at you, Dick. You could be a model. You’re… perfect. And sometimes I just feel like… like I’m not really enough to be with you.”
His eyes softened, and he let out a gentle sigh, pulling you closer until you were sitting with your legs curled up next to him. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “You know that’s not true, right? You’re… more than enough. More than I could ever ask for.”
You wanted to believe him, but the doubt still lingered. "I mean… I just feel like everyone must look at us and think, ‘Why is he with them?’ It’s hard not to compare myself."
Dick shook his head slowly, his fingers brushing back a strand of hair from your face. “First of all, I’m with you because you’re you. Not because of what you look like or don’t look like.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And for the record, you’re beautiful. Anyone who says otherwise clearly needs glasses.”
You let out a small laugh, but it was cut off as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes held a kind of sincerity that made your heart ache. Slowly, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the spot between your eyebrows, then down along your cheekbones, his lips warm and soft against your skin.
“Here…” he whispered, his voice barely a murmur as he kissed the bridge of your nose. “You’re beautiful here…”
He moved down, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then just beneath it, his hands gentle and steady as they held your face. “And here… and here…”
His lips trailed softly along every place you felt insecure, each touch gentle, each kiss filled with unspoken promises. He knew your insecurities, the parts of yourself you tried to hide or felt ashamed of, and he seemed intent on soothing them, piece by piece. It was like he wanted to chase away every doubt, replacing it with warmth, with the feeling of being loved.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You know, you don’t have to be perfect. I don’t want perfect. I want you,” he murmured, his voice a gentle reminder.
Tears pricked at your eyes, but they were the good kind—the kind that made you feel safe, cherished. “You really mean that?”
He nodded, his hand coming up to brush a tear from your cheek. “I mean it, more than anything. There’s no one else I’d rather be with. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Not one.”
For a while, the two of you just sat there, his arms wrapped around you as he held you close. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It felt like home, like a reminder that he saw you, truly saw you, and loved you anyway.
Eventually, you pulled back, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Dick. For… everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your nose. “Good thing you don’t have to find out, huh?”
You laughed, and it felt like a weight had been lifted, the insecurities fading into the background. Dick’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Remember,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “You’re beautiful, just the way you are. And I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”
