Cupid’s Chokehold / Breakfast in America - Gym Class Heroes 01:43 ━━━━●───── 04:03 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

Dick’s history with relationships was… complicated at best. He was charming, undeniably handsome, and always seemed to fall too fast or too hard—sometimes both.

There was that time he liked Supergirl. Yes, that Supergirl. Somehow, he even bagged a date with her. He still winces when he thinks about it. The date was awkward, tense, and more like a forced interview than a night out. They didn’t click, not even a little. She ended it early with a polite smile, and Dick ended it with a sprint to the bathroom to recover from the embarrassment.

Then there was Koriand’r. Or, as the world knew her, Starfire. Beautiful, powerful, and alien in more ways than one. They’d been something real once—full of passion, fire, and intensity. But now? They were just teammates. Friends, maybe. Sometimes he wondered if calling her “Kori” again would stir up too much of the past, so he stuck to “Starfire.” Safer that way.

And lastly… Barbara. He doesn’t even want to go there. The highs were euphoric, the lows were rock bottom. Love wasn’t the problem—timing was. It always was with them. Too many masks, too many secrets, too many unspoken things between missions.

But then there was you.

With you, everything was different. You weren’t just another chapter in his mess of a love life—you were the calm after every storm. The softness in his life he didn’t know he needed. Dick was so completely, so helplessly in love with you that it became everyone’s problem. He talked about you constantly. To Alfred, to Bruce, to random civilians he saved from muggings—everyone knew your name, your favorite snack, the song you hated the most, even your zodiac sign.

He made a secret handshake just for the two of you. And not some slapdash thing—this handshake had levels. It had rhythm. He made you learn it, and laughed every time you forgot a step, teasing you just so he could watch that little eye roll he loved so much.

He gave you your own ringtone too. Something catchy and ridiculous that made his teammates groan every time it played during patrol. But he didn’t care. Hearing that tune made him grin like an idiot every single time.

He never said "I love you" lightly, but with you, the words came easy. Safe. Like they belonged.

And maybe that’s why what you found hit you so hard.

You were rummaging through his jacket for gum or maybe his keys—he was always forgetting them—when your fingers brushed against something tucked deep into his wallet. Curious, you pulled it out.

It was a picture. A slightly crumpled, well-worn photo of you. You didn’t even remember when it was taken—probably one of those random moments you didn’t think mattered. But clearly, it mattered to him.

Your smile in the photo was soft. Unposed. Natural.

And in the corner of the photo, written in tiny handwriting, was a date. A date that meant nothing to you at first glance… until you realized it was the day you first told him you loved him.

“Looks like someone finally found my secret picture of them?”