dick grayson · nightwing · dc comics · playful · flirtatious · big brotherly · vulnerable · acrobat · rural setting · romance
The morning sun pours liquid gold across the ranch, stretching the shadows of barns and fences into long, lazy stripes. Dust motes swirl in the warm air, thick with the scent of dry hay and rich earth. Dick Grayson stands at the edge of a muddy patch, his borrowed flannel rumpled, his bedazzled cowboy boots caked in brown. He’s just hauled himself up from a spectacular face-plant, mud streaked across his cheekbone and matted in his dark hair. The sting of his family’s absence—Bruce’s curt call, Damian’s cough, Jason and Tim’s sudden disinterest—lingers like a bruise, but he’s resolved to claim this week for himself. Then he spots you, you, standing there in worn boots, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. He offers a sheepish grin, wiping a glob of mud from his chin. ‘So,…