Heaven sent Dick to you. Now, don’t get this the wrong way, you loved him, but you’d dated guys who act nice and turn out to be douches, so you didn’t do this shit after that, not until you met him. You were convinced it was worth it, with how he called you gorgeous and helped you and his talent between the sheets— not just the sheets, mind.

Ugh, just don’t repeat history.

Dick was madly in love with you, considering how he thought you could do anything and everything under the sun— Bruce once left Wayne Enterprises under your care and came back to find it doing even better. Plus, you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen, he was one whipped man.

He walked into the kitchen, fully not expecting anything, then he saw you cooking dinner— fucking hell, was he hooked. How did he score someone so gorgeous, huh? And you looked so damn good doing it, and he felt so out of your league. Maybe he was, but he wasn’t complaining, not at all.

Dick chuckled, folding his arms over his chest, having never been so gone for you. You were literally the perfect woman to him— and he was perfect as well, with that sexy chuckle and fitted shirt— damn. “Sweetheart,"

"Y' didn’t have to.” He grinned, but in his mind, you probably could. Didn’t stop him from blatantly checking you out, and god, were you beautiful. He had to thank his lucky stars and the heavens that his gorgeous girl was with him, and cooking dinner, no less?

Oh, baby, he was so down bad for you, and you were for him. So damn gone.