sweetchillipeppers

[sweetchillipeppers]

Oh Batchilla you’ve done it again 🩷🩷🩷 The Rodwell reveal holy shit!! The dramatic irony of knowing what’s going to happen Im foaming at the mouth omg and we got some Tim I feel well fed

Chapter Three: Dread and Despair

Before we start a quick note: while the story loosely follows the events of the leaping into the light series, I am playing with the timeline because otherwise it would be a series longer than what I am really able to commit to at this stage in my life. So things are happening in a faster timeline and occasionally in a different order. You’ll work it out. I trust you.  Also if anyone wants to complain about how long this update took you I will politely remind you I was HIT BY A CAR TWICE between updates. 

You're starting to get worried, because Dick’s not at work. He’s never late, to the point of annoyance. You find yourself checking one of the more reliable Nightwing watching twitter accounts, but find nothing. He hadn’t even been active last night. 

Over the last week, you’d been slowly yet steadily collecting evidence. You’d done your best to be impartial towards James. But you had found cause for suspicion. He had arrived the day the file was moved. He knew people in high places, as evidenced by his promotion. But he wasn’t your only suspect. Honestly, finding a corrupt cop wasn’t hard in Bludhaven. It was finding the right one, who was the correct needle in a massive stack of needles instead of hay. You look around the break room, where Dick’s lunchbox of horrifically sweet snacks isn’t in the fridge, out at the dividing glass into the bullpen as you make yourself a sandwich. 

Your captain would have unquestioned access. He had little care for Buldhaven’s homeless population, but catching a suspected serial killer would be a feather in his cap and a ticket to an early retirement. A beat cop could have snuck in and done it. Less power, but they could have been bought or blackmailed. So could anyone, really. You’d been sifting through the entire department. Last time you saw him as Nightwing you had gone a little too far. Taken up too much of the time you had with your little false accusation prank. Not to mention, he had not taken it particularly well. Over the last week, he’d gone out of his way to be helpful to you. When you’d asked him for a favour, he’d been strangely intense. Grabbed your shoulders and told you he’d never let you down. So clearly, righting your perception of him was something he was desperate to do. You occasionally felt bad about it all. Then you remembered he’d called himself Richard bloody Grerson to your face and expected it to work, and were annoyed enough to let go of the guilt. 

Grerson. Did he think you were an idiot? 

How the hell has he maintained a secret identity up to this point? Fucking Grerson. You finished making your sandwich and sat back down at your desk, trying to act as if nothing was wrong and you weren’t so worried you felt like you might cry. You almost envied the time when you hadn’t known. You’d assume he’d been out late, or he was sick. 

Now you knew, and you were worried that he’d been murdered, or he’d missed a grapple and was lying in some alleyway all alone and in pain. You're so busy worrying about Dick that you don’t even notice when someone occupies his seat. “Hey.” You look up. Sitting across from you is Officer Rodwell. 

She’s a wiry woman. Curly hair in a messy bun, kind eyes, deep brown skin and an overall soothing presence. She looks exhausted. You know the feeling. She looks scared, and you know why. You are too. “He's back.” she says, fiddling with one of Dick’s many desk toys, a newton's cradle, full of nervous energy. “He’s back.” you agree, resting your chin on your hand, holding your fingers over your mouth. “Honestly soon as he came back I felt like I was an idiot for not seeing it coming.” you admit. “Same.” Janet says, shaking her head. “If he tries anything… I’ll watch your back if you watch mine.” she says, and you nod. “Of course, Janet.” your agreement is immediate. But your concerns run deeper. You would help, you meant that. You just didn’t know if it would matter. “Might happen sooner rather than later, Captain Leo has asked to see me in his office at 12.” You furrow your brow and pull open your calendar. “Well, look at you Ms Priority, he doesn’t want me till 12:30.” The invitation glows menacingly, lingering in your mind's eye even as you close the tab.  “What do you expect it’ll be about? How he’s sorry Mc Elroy came back and he won’t let him get up to his old shit?” Janet snorts. “That’d be lovely. Also, he’ll tell me I can take the detectives exam early.” You hum. “Well… guess there’s not long to wait.” It’s not, objectively. Subjectively? It feels like an eternity until you are called into your captain’s office. You only catch the last few words of what Captain Harrison says to Rodwell as the door shuts “...and give my best wishes to your son, eh? We’re all thinking of him. I’m sure the insurance will pull through.” You exchange a tight smile, a nod, and brush past her into the office. 

Captain Harrison took care of his officers. That was not an endorsement. To him, the thin blue was a religious idol. He covered up whatever he deemed necessary as part of the benefits of the job, looked away and denied the most egregious acts committed by those reporting to him. He’d never forgiven you for taking the Mc Elroy incident further than his precinct, but while he’d make your life hell with the worst assignments, he would probably cover it up if you shot a kid. Pig. He grins at you as you slip into the seat across from him. Says your name with a warmness you resent from a man like him. “You wanted to see me Captain?” “Yes, yes, no need to look nervous. I just wanted to be sure that the Sargent has been behaving himself?” You bristle. Yes, in your one, supervised interaction, he had not committed a reportable offence. “Why would you think he wouldn’t be?” is your deflection. 

He taps his hands against the desk in lighthearted annoyance at Mc Elroy you know he doesn’t truly feel. 

“So defensive. Look, you're the best gal in my bullpen-” you are the best in his bullpen. Second to Grayson maybe. It’s hard to be sure given he cheats with his connections. “But while what he said wasn’t on, Me too, I’m with her, and all that, when we can’t present a united front, well, it emboldens the scum.”

Disagreeing at this moment will make everything worse for you, and for Rodwell. So you present a united front. Nod and pick your battles. You hate yourself for it. But you hadn’t joined the force with the intention to fix it from the inside, because you can’t. The rot is too deep for that. You joined in the hopes that you could help a few people. Every case that comes across your desk is in the hands of someone who cares, rather than the Mc Elroys and Harrisons of the force, and that's the best you can do. 

“But, all's well that ends well. So long as you keep your head down, I can see you getting a similar promotion in the not so distant future. Even with this terrible Grayson business.”

This whole time your heart has been teasing at moving into your throat, and now, finally, it has. 

“What?” You croak, as the office fades away and you are blinded by dread. “I mean to say, the announcement he made this morning is a nice idea-” Announcement? What… oh. Dick had done something. You, for all your thoroughness in investigating Nightwing, you’d neglected the other half. “Heaven, or whatever high handed title he gave his project… Really, he should have gone into social work if he wanted to be so soft about these things. You, I at least get, you like the puzzles and the solving, him? No clue why he wanted the badge.” Your tongue is too big for your mouth and too heavy to speak with. 

“I’m a little out of the loop,” you admit. “Has something happened?” “Well, if we do need to assign you a new partner, I hope you keep a closer eye on him, eh? Yes. As far as I know he’s alive, but I'm afraid someone’s put a price on his head.” You are on your feet in a second. “Who? Why?” Badge on your belt - check. “Who, I can’t say. Sufficient enough sum that it could only be a few people. He announced some hippy bullshit save bludhaven project. Re- vamping that tent city those kids hideout in to be something decent or some such…best guess blockbuster didn’t like that. I sent out an order to bring him into protective custody.”

Gun on your hip - Check. Hopefully you wouldn’t need it, but things could get ugly if someone had gotten to him by the time you caught up.

You're leaning over the desk, close enough to see Captain Harrisons pores and smell the tuna salad he had for lunch. “Rescind it.” You say all too quickly, racing the part of your brain that wants you blindly running into Bludhavens streets to get to him. You needed to stay calm. Reasonable. You aren’t a vigilante, you can’t run into the danger head first. You need a plan, and you don’t have a secret identity to carry it out as. Harrison knew what would happen if Dick came into protective custody. He’d have some tragic accident. Something would go ‘wrong’, and he would be dead, a fish in a barrel. He knew and he would let it happen, because unlike you, Dick was too good to bite back the bile and keep his head down. He’d made one too many waves and he was being left to his fate. 

“I’ll get him.” You leave no room for argument. “No need to waste the resources. He listens to me. I’ll make sure he’s safe.” And you're off, out the door. Across the bullpen. Out of the precinct. As fast as your feet, and then your patrol car, will carry you.

You go out too fast. You don’t see it. The eyes on you. The person taking information on your partner, Grayson, and giving it to the heartless killer out of desperation. You don’t see it, and Dick hasn’t seen it yet either. But someone does. Someone with a vested interest in anything Richard Grayson had to lose. And now, they know he has you. Can lose you. 

It’s a pity. You are liked. But when a child is in need of a heart transplant and has been denied, horror befall those who would underestimate a mothers desperation. 

Captain Harrison took care of his detectives. His uniformed officers less so. Allowed to bear the brunt of the consequences of crossing Mc Elroy, Officer Janet Rodwell had been left alone against the hate. 

Fucked over by Shel Pharmacuticals when her son needed a new heart, and offered a solution by a monster, which, with no where else to turn, she took. 

Her boy needed a new heart, and to ensure that… she’d help tear Grayson down, if she had to. 

His partner… it was a pity they were so close. Perhaps if they hadn’t been, she could have been spared. Collateral is a leading cause of death in Bludhaven, and surely she will join them. Pity indeed. 

You had made it to his apartment. Made it just in time to see it burn to the ground. He helped with the evacuation. Of course he did, that wonderful fool. You wouldn’t change that, wouldn’t hope otherwise, because to do anything else would not have been him. There were no other casualties. A miracle, some think. Richard Grayson, you know. You just wished he’d made it out. He probably did, you tell yourself. Probably he’s up in the justice league's space satellite or the batcave or something insane. Because if he is alive, he surely made the call to get out of Bludhaven. At least for now. 

But you put the wingding in the window anyway. And you get to work. Take away containers pile up and mold over, and you work. Your clothes feel like cardboard, and you work. The smell, the fact that you haven’t left your apartment in days, and the general aura of despair you must be radiating causes three neighbours to come and check if you’re alive. 

You’re pretty sure you get fired at some point. Not ideal, but you can get your job back. Say you were in mourning or something. You might be. He’s been gone so long now. You’d figured he’d make it out, lay low, and come back. He wasn’t back. The wingding in your window is dusty. You don’t remove it. You work, and you work, and you work. You think you're close. Too many corrupt cops to find one, but you study the ways they are corrupt. Blockbuster doesn’t seem to be aligned with heartless, and that eliminates a vast swath of them. So you keep working. It wasn’t your Captain, too busy bending over for blockbuster, and you reluctantly had to acknowledge Mc Elroy’s innocence. And you work. 

Till eventually there’s the rap of knuckles on your window. You don’t think you’ve ever moved so fast. Or been so disappointed to see the red and black of Red Robin. Or felt such cold dread in the presence of a young man.  Why was he here? If his brother had come to see you… were all your worst fears true? “Yes?” you say quickly, opening the window and stepping back for him, too tired and too scared and too sad to care about playing dumb “Is Dick okay?” “Who?” Red Robin asks, cocking his head innocently. “Cut the shit, Tim” is your snapping reply. Red Robin drops away, and you are staring at a befuddled boy in a cape. “He told you?” “For fucks sake - I am a goddam detective. No, he didn’t say a word, but his mask covers 20% of his face at most, and his extended family all have rather obvious physical similarities to the rest of the bats.” Tim nods, and furrows his brow “well, that’s… I of all people can’t be mad about that I guess.” You don’t know what that means. In better days to come maybe you’ll ask. Not today. “Tim. Is he okay?” The young man nods. “Relatively speaking, yes. He is. I- Well given you know I suppose I can tell you a lot more than I planned. We were able to track down and arrest enough major players to scare others off taking the hit on him - Dick can return to public life soon. But when he does, we’ll want you with him. Or people you trust. Most of the time he’ll have someone a little better equipped watching him as well - No offence -” You shrug. “Glad to hear it. I’m a decent shot and a good detective but I am by no means one of you.” Tim continues “But it will also help to have you on him, and to keep up the appearance that he’s not anything special.” “Even without Nightwing, I don’t think you could convince a single person that Dick isn’t something special.” Is it true? Yes. Is it an embarrassing thing to have slipped out in front of his little brother? Also yes. Tim doesn’t comment, but you know it’s been filed away in the steel trap of his mind. 

“Well, regardless, be on your toes. You’re a target too, now.” That almost draws a laugh out of you.”Me? Why would I be a target? I don’t matter, not on the scale he operates at.” Red Robin snaps back into place as the young man stares at you like you just asked how people were sure the Joker was mentally unstable and not just misunderstood. “Ohhh you’re another one” “Another what?” “Idiot genius.” “Excuse me?” You take a step back in slight offence. “You’ll work it out.” is his reply, but he does smile. “Dick will be coming back soon. I know he’s had you working through potential moles put in the BCPD by Heartless. Any progress?” You nod, and wave him further into your apartment to see the board. Well. Presumably the cork board is still in there somewhere, having absorbed the wall it rested on. Ten newspapers. Seventeen files you absolutely shouldn’t have. Thirty pages of printer paper. Forty nine sticky notes. Over 200 pins and eight balls of red wool. It is a thing of beauty in your humble opinion. Red Robin clasps his hands together. “Mhm. Yes. We’re going to be friends.” “So, finding a clean cop in Bludhaven is basically impossible. Hell, by the definition I don’t even count, given I’m helping vigilanties. So I’ve tried to narrow down who works for Heartlesses competitors. My instinct was the new Sergeant, Mc Elroy. But it can’t be him, the timeline is all wrong. My Captain wouldn’t do it either. He’s scum, and he is letting Heartless get away with wildly too much, but he doesn’t do murder. White collar crime and letting others off the hook, as long as he can lie to himself about being the hero. He wouldn’t work with an obvious sadist.” “Which just leaves everyone else.” Red Robin hums.

“Less opportunity, but so many of them…”  “Exactly” you agree, hand on your chin.

“I have a good swath of people ruled out… so many of them work for Blockbuster or corrupt officials who lead back to Blockbuster. So many. It’s depressing, honestly. I have found a few that are suspiciously clean… and therefore suspect.”

You take a ruler and tap out your suspects faces where they are pinned at eye level.

“Dick Grayson; we can safely ignore him, but he acts suspicious enough to be a decent red herring, and to not consider him would be suspect if I was caught and this was found.”

“Bet Nightwing loved that.” Tim laughs.

“Oh his face was classic.But moving right along… Officer Jeeves, Officer Rodwell, and Officer Hughes. Jeeve’s is green, but he’s viable. Hughes, I haven’t been able to find anything on really. Rodwell… It wouldn’t be her.”

“No?” Red Robin fixes you with a stern look. “Is that an objective opinion?”

“No.” You admit. “But I trust her.”

At this point you have read nearly 10,000 words of this series, and so should really REBLOG, because likes on tumblr are meaningless! Please share your thoughts, I feed off them like a validation vampire. @sunnie-angel is the BEST beta a girl can ask for and you should check out her work! Banner was made by @stangergraphics

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[sweetchillipeppers]

THIS MEANS WAR VII

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 4.8k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: Ngl I struggled slightly this chapter, but I hope y'all enjoyed!

GOTHAM’S CHARITY GALA

You had no idea why you’d agreed to the charity gala in the first place.

You hated galas.

They were suffocating affairs filled with overly expensive champagne, smug smiles, and people who pretended their bank accounts made them saints. Everyone there wanted to be seen—wanted to appear generous, compassionate, noble. But it was all just a show. A glossy, expensive performance for a cause they barely understood and would forget by morning.

The rest of your week had been a blur. You’d been summoned back to the research center on short notice after whispers of a possible breakthrough with the experimental antidote for Joker venom. The work demanded everything—your mind, your focus, your hours. You buried yourself in it so completely that you forgot to text Dick back.

Every day bled into the next. You’d wake up, lecture, research, eat whatever you could find, then collapse into bed just to do it all over again. You hadn’t even remembered the gala until Anthony brought it up casually over coffee, asking if you’d found a dress yet.

Of course you hadn’t.

That was quickly remedied. You found a gown the next day—a royal blue silk piece that clung in all the right places, elegant without being excessive, alluring without trying too hard. Thankfully, you’d already written your speech weeks ago. All that was left was to show up, smile, speak, and survive.

Crowds were never your thing. But years of standing at the front of lecture halls and commanding the attention of restless students had toughened you. You gave the speech. You even got applause. And then?

Then it was just a matter of making it through the next hour before executing a flawless Irish goodbye.

Champagne helped. You snagged a flute from a passing waiter with a practiced ease, the cold glass soothing against your fingers as you weaved toward the buffet. If there was one redeeming quality about rich people—it was their taste in food.

You’d just finished fixing your plate when you turned, nearly colliding with someone.

Your heart jumped as you caught the edge of your dish just in time, the food threatening to topple. “Oh my god! I’m so so—”

You looked up.

Ocean blue eyes met yours.

“Dick!” you breathed, startled. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

His gaze swept down before he could stop it, drawn to the way the deep royal blue hugged your frame. You caught the subtle shift in his expression—the quick darkening of his eyes when they landed on the dress. It was like the universe had chosen that shade with him in mind. 

“Wow,” he murmured. “You look… beautiful. That blue, it suits you.”

You felt the heat crawl up your neck and fought the urge to blush. “Thank you.”

“You never texted me back,” he said, his voice softer now, more intimate over the clinking of glasses and hum of chatter.

You gave a small sigh. “I meant to. I really did. But the lab thinks we might be close to something with the antidote. I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone check my phone.”

It wasn’t a lie. You had been buried in work. Buried in pressure.

But still, the guilt gnawed at you.

Because the truth was—while your phone sat forgotten under a pile of lab reports and takeout containers—you’d also been quietly freaking out over the fact that you might be accidentally dating two men at once.

You’d meant to text Dick back. You just… got busy.

And maybe, a little, you panicked.

A slow breath escaped him—relief, not frustration. “Thank God. I thought I’d blown it.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Not yet.”

That crooked, boyish grin spread across his face. “Lucky for me.”

You turned back toward the buffet, needing a break from how he sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach with just a smile. “You hungry?” you asked, more to distract yourself than him. “Because I’m staking claim on that last crab puff.”

“I’m more of a visual feast kind of guy tonight,” he said, still looking at you.

You shot him a look over your shoulder, feigning annoyance. “You’re laying it on a little thick, Grayson.”

“Am I?” he asked, following you to a quieter corner of the ballroom with two drinks in hand. “Maybe. But you disappeared on me for a week. I thought I had to make it count.”

You paused, that twinge of guilt returning. “I really didn’t mean to ghost you. The team’s been on edge—we might finally have something, and I just got swept up in it.”

“I know,” he said, and there was no bitterness in his voice. Only quiet understanding. “It’s one of the things I like about you. When you care, you commit.”

His gaze dipped again, lingering on your dress—on the way the silk hugged your frame and shimmered under the soft lights. His voice dropped, lower now, rough around the edges. “But I’m glad I ran into you tonight. I almost didn’t come… but seeing you in that? Definitely made this night worth it.”

You raised a brow, amused. “What—the dress?”

There was a slight pause. A flicker in his expression. His jaw tightened just a touch before he said, “The dress looks amazing on you. But I like see you in that colour.”

You tilted your head. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not saying?”

His smile returned, this time with a more wolfish edge—pleased, like he was enjoying a secret you weren’t in on. “Maybe I just have a thing for blue.”

You bit your lip, a playful glint in your eye. “Noted.”

Something shifted in his eyes then. Just slightly. The playfulness remained, but softened at the edges by something more grounded. “You know I meant what I said earlier. I know you’ve got a million things demanding your time. But I don’t mind waiting. I just want to be in the running.”

You looked at him carefully, studying the softness in his eyes, the quiet steadiness in the way he held himself. Your heart beat a little too fast now.

He wasn’t pushing for more than you could give. He wasn’t asking you to slow down or shrink yourself. Wasn’t trying to change your pace or compromise who you were. He just… wanted to show up.

To be present. To try.

And that only made the guilt twist deeper in your chest.

Because he was just so damn sweet. Kind in that quiet, consistent way that crept up on you when you weren’t looking.

And even if the two of you hadn’t talked about exclusivity—even if this thing between you was still unnamed—it felt like you were sneaking around behind his back. Like you were keeping a secret from someone who didn’t deserve to be kept in the dark.

You weren’t doing anything wrong, not technically.

But it didn’t feel right, either.

Not when he looked at you like that.

But before you could find the words to answer or worse spill your guts, he pivoted.

“How long do you usually last at these things?” he asked, a curious edge returning to his tone.

You pushed the fluttery feeling away to give him a dry look over the rim of your glass. “Depends. Long enough to make the speech, shake a few hands, charm a donor or two… and stick around just long enough to sneak a second helping of whatever dessert they’re hoarding at the buffet.”

His mouth curved. “Strategic.”

“Survival,” you corrected.

He leaned a little closer, playful but genuinely interested. “And tonight?”

You glanced at the glittering ballroom, the swirl of tuxedos and designer gowns, and sighed. “About the same plan. I was getting ready to dine and dash within the next ten minutes.”

He let out a low, amused breath. “Guess I intercepted your escape.”

You quirked a brow. “Is that what this is? A rescue mission?”

“Depends,” he said, swirling the amber in his glass. “You want to be rescued?”

You didn’t answer right away.

Instead, you let your eyes scan the room once more—the same painted smiles, the same tired performances. And then you looked back at him, at the ease in his expression, the sincerity beneath the teasing.

A slow smile curled at your lips. “I might be open to it.”

“So then…” he said, his voice dipping again, mischief returning to his eyes. “What do you say we get out of here?”

You raised a brow, wary but amused. “What did you have in mind?”

He leaned in just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “How about we go on that second date of ours?”

You took a second, letting the offer hang there, watching him—how easily the flirtation sat beside the sincerity. And how hard it was not to fall a little deeper into both.

You reached for your clutch, sliding it under your arm. “Lead the way.”

You had no idea what to expect as you slid into Dick’s car and let him pull out onto the dim Gotham streets, the city a blur of gold and shadow through the windshield. Streetlights flickered overhead in slow pulses, casting moving patterns across the interior as you settled into the passenger seat.

“I really hope you were telling the truth and you’re not actually a kidnapper,” you teased, shooting him a sidelong glance.

He smirked without missing a beat, eyes still on the road. “Well, if I were, this would be the smoothest abduction in Gotham history.”

You snorted. “Great. That’s reassuring.”

He glanced at you then, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You don’t seem too worried.”

You bite your lip and give him a gentle grin, “Maybe I’m beginning to not mind if the kidnapper is you.”

There was a pause. A beat of silence where your own words hung in the air—long enough for the both of you to register just how ridiculous they sounded.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, covering your face with your hand as a laugh bubbled out. “That was so bad.”

Dick burst out laughing, shaking his head. “That was terrible. You really tried to make that smooth.”

“Well, not everyone is as smooth as you, Casanova,” you shot back, grinning as you dropped your hand.

He glanced over, mock offended. “Casanova? That’s slander. I’m at least a few degrees more charming than that guy.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said, eyes flicking over to meet yours, “here you are. In my car. Laughing at my jokes. Questioning your life choices.”

You smirked. “I’ve made a lot of questionable life choices. You, however, are definitely not one of them.”

That earned you a curious look. “Oh yeah? What was the worst?”

You leaned your head back against the seat, sighing. “My ex was pretty bad. And… so was my family.”

That made his eyebrows tick up, but his voice stayed easy. “Oh yeah? Me and my old man used to go at it all the time when I was younger. We were like lit matches and gasoline.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Brother, for me. We lost our parents when I was still a kid. It just… unraveled after that.”

His smile faded. “I’m sorry,” he said, quieter now. “I know how that feels. I was adopted after losing both of mine.”

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, something unspoken passed between you. Grief, loss, understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

Dick offered a small smile. “Yeah. Me too. Me and my adoptive dad… we got better with time. And I gained some brothers along the way that I wouldn’t trade for anything—even if they drive me up the wall half the time.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Brothers are the bane of any existence.”

But the smile didn’t last. It slipped, just slightly, before you looked away. “Yeah, me and my brother never got to that point. But… I met Milo and Anthony. They’re practically my family now. Best friends a girl could ask for.”

Dick caught the shift in your tone—the careful way you redirected, the weight tucked behind your words. He didn’t push. He could tell you were still trying, still deciding how much of yourself to share. And he didn’t want to scare that trust away, even if you had information he needed.

“Well,” he said gently, “I hope I get to meet them one day. And properly thank them—for pushing you into going on that date with me.”

You snorted. “You say that now, but they’re nuts. Be prepared to be shamelessly objectified by Milo, who is already talking about rating your ass. Meanwhile, Anthony will be pouring drinks before you sit down and somehow get you blackout drunk on fruity cocktails.”

Dick grinned, completely unbothered. “My ass is out of this world. I welcome the judgment.”

You stared at him. “You want to be objectified?”

“I’m just saying—if Milo’s going to rate me, I want that five-star Yelp review.” He leaned back, smug as hell. “Bonus points if he uses the word phenomenal, juicy, perfect—”

“Oh my God, I get it!” you laughed, lightly smacking his shoulder.

He shot you a bright, unrepentant grin.

“Don’t worry,” he added smoothly, “he can admire it all he wants. You’re the only one who gets to touch it.”

Your laugh caught in your throat for half a second—equal parts flustered and amused.

“Oh my god,” you muttered again, this time under your breath, as heat crept up your neck.

Dick just wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m just setting expectations.”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” you said, rolling your eyes—though the corner of your mouth tugged upward, betraying your smile. “You’re just lucky you’re not bad company, Grayson.”

He shot you a lazy grin. “Careful—keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

You smiled to yourself as you looked out the window for a moment, watching Gotham slip past—familiar, but somehow quieter tonight. It was easy with him. Too easy.

The car rolled to a stoplight, and for a moment the only sound was the soft hum of jazz on the radio. You glanced out the window, but curiosity tugged your gaze back to him.

“So…” you started, lips curving. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or are you just hoping I’ll keep playing along out of sheer boredom?”

He tapped the steering wheel idly with one hand. “Where’s the fun in giving it away?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You realize this is how horror movies start, right?”

He chuckled. “Relax. No horror. No creepy cabin in the woods. No surprises in the trunk. Just a solid Plan B for people who hate galas.”

You raised a brow, intrigued despite yourself. “Plan B, huh?”

He shot you a quick grin as the light turned green. “Trust me. You’ll like it.”

And oddly… you did.

You didn’t question him as he parked, or when he came around to open your door with a conspiratorial smile. You didn’t pull away when he gently reached for your hand, guiding you across a quiet rooftop entrance, the night air brushing your skin. Instead, you found yourself smiling—giddy, uncharacteristically so—when he stepped behind you and carefully covered your eyes with his palms.

“You’re really committing to this,” you murmured.

“That’s how surprises work,” he said, his breath warm near your ear. 

Surprisingly, you weren’t nervous. He held you steady, each step guided with care, and you knew—instinctively—that he wouldn’t let you fall. There was something grounding in the way he moved with you.

“Alright,” he murmured beside you, his voice low. “Ready?”

You nodded.

His hands slipped away.

It took a second for your eyes to adjust. But when they did, your breath caught.

A full trapeze rig stood before you, framed by a canopy of soft, golden fairy lights that glittered overhead like suspended stars. A soft projector spun slow, dreamy patterns of light across the floor—muted swirls of color like something out of a dream. 

 In the dim glow, a faded wooden sign came into view.

Haley’s Circus.

The space smelled faintly of chalk, clean rope, and wood polished with time. High ceilings arched above, draped in shadow, and at the center of it all—your very own private circus act.

You turned toward him, wide-eyed. “What is this?”

He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching your reaction like he was trying to memorize it.  

“Just a place I come to,” he said quietly. “When I need time for myself.”

You looked back at the trapeze. At the soft glow of lights. The hush of the space. The quiet magic that lived in the bones of the building.

“This is…” you breathed, eyes wide as you took it all in. “It’s beautiful.”

Dick smiled—but it wasn’t the usual flirtatious grin he’d given you. This one was quieter. Softer. More earnest.

“You want to go up?” he asked.

Your head snapped toward him. “Wait—seriously?”

He nodded once, casually. “Why not?”

“I mean, I’ve never even touched one of those before,” you said, eyes darting to the trapeze rig. “Is that… safe?”

He stepped closer, voice low and easy. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”

You blinked, his words settling into your chest like a promise with weight behind it. He wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t just showing off.

You studied him for a moment longer, then bit your lip—half-uncertain, half-thrilled. “Promise?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Promise.”

And somehow, you believed him.

He guided you to the ladder, steadying you as you climbed. At the platform, he helped you position your hands on the trapeze bar, giving you a few quick instructions—his voice calm, confident, just enough to settle your nerves. Then he offered a wink and climbed down, making his way to the opposite swing.

You watched him move with fluid ease, like the rig was an extension of him. As he began to swing back and forth, his body weight shifting effortlessly, you let out a nervous laugh.

“Who knew you were a circus kid.”

He grinned mid-swing, his legs pumping effortlessly. “My secret talent. Now are you gonna keep stalling, or are you gonna swing?”

Your hands gripped the bar tighter. “You’re gonna catch me, right?”

“I’ve got you,” he said without hesitation.

You took a breath—deep and sharp—and jumped.

Air rushed past you as you swung forward. Across from you, Dick leaned back on his bar, flipping upside down like it was second nature.

“Let go!” he called.

With a small yell and your heart in your throat, you did.

For a split second, there was nothing—no ground, no sense of direction, just gravity yanking you down and adrenaline surging up. Then—

Strong hands caught your arms midair.

He caught you.

You dangled there, breathless, eyes wide, your weight suspended only by his grip. The two of you swung together for a moment, the motion smooth and steady.

Then he looked at you and smiled. “Ready?”

“For what?” you asked, still catching your breath.

He winked.

Before you could respond, he let go of the bar.

You shrieked, the sound breaking out of you in a wild, startled laugh as the two of you dropped in a freefall, crashing into the net below. Your body bounced high, weightless for one giddy moment before settling. Another laugh—pure delight this time—escaped you.

As the movement calmed, you rolled to the side just as he rolled toward you. Your arm found its way across his chest, anchoring you in the quiet aftermath. Breath mingled. Laughter faded. His body was warm beneath your arm, his pulse steady beneath your fingers.

You met his gaze, heart still racing for a very different reason now. You bit your lip—less out of nerves, more to keep yourself from smiling too much.

“Hi.”

His grin widened. “Hi.”

Your body leaned in before you could stop it, and he met you halfway, your lips  met—softly at first, testing the waters. Dick’s kiss was gentle, teasing and curious. His hand slid behind your head, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened it, his body shifting closer until you felt the warmth of him press against you. 

Then, with the kind of grace that should’ve been impossible on a net, he rolled the two of you over without breaking the kiss, settling above you. He smiled playfully into the kiss.

A quiet moan escaped your lips as his hands skimmed down your sides, slow and sure. You arched into him, your own hands exploring—chest, back, the lines of lean muscle beneath his shirt. Your fingers drifted toward his waistband, hungry for more—

But then his kiss faltered.

Just for a breath.

He shifted, pulling back slightly, just enough for you to notice. You froze, blinking up at him wondering if you did something wrong. 

He sighed as if he was physically pained, forehead lowering until it rested against yours.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said quietly, his voice rough with restraint. “Because, trust me, I really want to. It’s just…” He exhaled slowly. “These last few years, I haven’t really dated anyone. It’s always just been quick,, sleep with them and move on. And I don’t want that with you.”

You stayed quiet, watching the emotion flicker across his face as he spoke.

“I like you,” he said, softer now. “And I want to do this right. Not some quick romp in public on a trapeze net—tempting as that is.”

Your expression softened. A slow smile formed as you leaned up and kissed him—gentle, grateful, warm. “That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s said to me.”

He smiled, a little bashful, a little relieved.

“I can wait,” you added with a wicked glint in your eye. “But just saying—fucking on a trapeze net could be fun. It’s pretty bouncy.”

Dick groaned and dropped his face into the crook of your neck. “You are an evil woman.”

You laughed, threading your fingers through his hair. “And yet, here you are.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, lips brushing your skin. “Here I am. Completely doomed.”

WAYNE MANSION

Dick was still riding the high from the night before when he strolled into the manor the next morning, hoodie half-zipped, grin practically glued to his face. He hadn’t slept much—and he didn’t care. Not after that date.

He was passing the kitchen when he spotted Duke slouched at the counter in pajamas, sleepily shoveling cereal into his mouth. The newest member of the family, still adjusting to life under a roof full of vigilantes. After what Joker did to his parents, no one blamed him for being guarded—but Dick liked him. He was smart, grounded, and had a good heart.

“Morning, Duke,” Dick greeted, casually reaching for the coffee pot.

“Hey, Dick. Cute date from last night,” Duke replied through a mouthful of cereal.

Dick froze mid-pour.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned toward the younger boy. “What?”

Duke blinked up at him confused, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Huh? Oh—Jason and Tim were watching your back. Y’know. Surveillance. Can never be too careful with people in Gotham.”

There was a pause. One heartbeat. Two.

Duke paused, frowning. “Everything okay?”

Dick forced a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. “Everything’s fine. And… yeah. She’s cute.”

Duke gave him a cautious nod, clearly sensing the shift but not quite sure why.

There was a beat of silence before Dick spoke again—sounding way too casual.

“Hey, are those two still around?” he asked, sipping his coffee. “Jason and Tim? Just wanna make sure they didn’t catch anything… concerning on surveillance.”

Duke hesitated. “Uh… yeah. Pretty sure they’re still in the cave.”

Dick nodded once, finishing the rest of his coffee in one long, controlled sip. “Great.”

Jason and Tim.

They were dead men.

“Thanks, Duke!”

“You’re… welcome?” Duke replied slowly, brows drawing together. But Dick was already gone.

Coffee mug still in hand like the picture of composure, Dick punched in the code and descended into the cave—cool air rising to meet him, fluorescent lights flickering to life as he reached the base of the platform.

He spotted them instantly.

Jason was leaned back in a chair, boots kicked up on the console, chewing on something that looked suspiciously like leftover gala dessert. Tim sat beside him, hunched over a monitor with his usual half-dead focus, a headset slung lazily around his neck. They looked comfortable.

They wouldn’t be for long.

“Morning,” Dick said pleasantly as he stepped into view, voice smooth as glass.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Morning.”

Tim smirked faintly over the rim of his mug. “Surprised you’re even awake.”

Dick smiled. 

Jason blinked, eyebrows pulling together as he sat up slightly. “Wait—why are you smiling like that?”

“I was just thinking,” Dick said, stepping closer, still maddeningly calm. “How lucky I am to have two very thoughtful, very observant little brothers who care enough to watch my back.”

Jason and Tim exchanged a glance. A silent, oh-shit glance.

The smile dropped as he levelled a glare at them. “I can’t believe you two spied on my date. We had an agreement Jason!”

“It’s a good thing I was watching because you nearly broke our deal. You kissed her!” Jason fired back defensively.

“So did you!” Dick barked. “We agreed not to sleep with her—not that we couldn’t kiss her!”

Jason huffed, crossing his arms. “You were way more into it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—should I not have been? Should I have called a time-out and asked for your permission?” Dick snapped, sarcasm curling sharp around every word. He huffed, shaking his head. “And what would you have done if there was some action? Called in the GCPD? Batman?”

“No!” Jason barked—but the beat of hesitation was just long enough.

Dick blinked, disbelief hitting hard. “I can’t believe you actually thought about it!”

“Maybe I’d take you out,” Jason muttered under his breath.

Dick’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Before either of them could lunge, a voice cut through the tension like a batarang.

“Dick,” Bruce said as he strode into the cave, the weight of his presence immediately dragging the cave back into order. “What did you find out from her?”

Dick straightened immediately, his mouth opening—and then freezing.

Jason, of course, noticed.

A slow, smug grin curled at his mouth as he stepped to the side, folding his arms and practically glowing with glee. “Yeah, Dick,” he echoed mockingly. “What did you find out?”

Dick glared daggers at him before turning to Bruce, carefully schooling his tone. “I need more time. I can’t just ask about her brother outright—she barely knows me. And it’s obviously a sensitive topic.”

Bruce studied him with that unreadable Bat-stare, then gave a single, measured nod. “Fine. But don’t take too long.”

Dick exhaled, barely hiding his relief.

Then—

“You know her too?” Bruce asked, turning to Jason.

Jason blinked, then nodded casually. “Yeah. I’ve talked to her.”

Dick scoffed. Rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

“Good,” Bruce said without missing a beat. “You look into it too. Better to have two people on the case.”

“B!” Dick’s voice shot up an octave as he whipped toward him, incredulous. “Are you seriously assigning him to this?!” 

He’d been banking on this case as the perfect excuse—to spend time with her, to ease into trust, to keep Jason away under the neat cover of intel gathering. But now Jason had the same damn excuse. 

“He’s already made contact,” Bruce said, completely unmoved. “We use the resources we have. We need to find her brother before Joker finds him first.”

Jason’s grin widened into a full-blown smirk. “Yeah, Dick,” he echoed, tone syrup-slick. “We use the resources we have.”

Dick’s jaw flexed, his gaze narrowing like he was weighing just how fast he could get away with a punch to the throat.

Jason clapped his hands together, “You got it, old man.”

Dick looked like he might actually throw something at him—batarang, chair, whatever was within reach—but Bruce was already turning away, heading back toward the elevator with the kind of finality that said discussion over.

Tim, still in his chair, popped a chip into his mouth and muttered under his breath, “This is better than HBO.”

“Don’t you dare enjoy this,” Dick hissed, his glare locked on Jason.

“Oh, I’m enjoying the hell out of this,” Jason said, practically vibrating with smug satisfaction. He leaned in just a little, voice lower, mock-conspiratorial. “Remind me what we said, Dickie? May the best man for her win, right?”

Dick’s jaw clenched.

Jason winked. Then turned on his heel and sauntered toward the bikes like he hadn’t just poured gasoline on a lit fire.

Tim didn’t look up from his screen. “You two do realize she’s probably going to kill you when she finds out about all of this… right?”

“Yup,” Jason called over his shoulder. “But its worth it.” 

Dick exhaled sharply through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen when she inevitably found out.

Right now, between him and Jason…

This meant war.

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[sweetchillipeppers]

got me smiling and kicking my feet 🥹🥹

One-sided academic rival!Dick Grayson x Reader

part 1 part 2

trigger warnings: kissing, mentions of death, reader is exceptionally dense, Dick is an idiot in love

Dick is a grown man.

Grown men don't squeal and giggle on their bed. Only they do. And he was.

The moment he got back into his room after getting your stitches checked out in med bay. He wasn't surprised they were good, everything you touched seemed to turn into gold.

He fell on his bed, wide grin gracing his face as he stared at the ceiling.

He kissed you. He actually kissed you. And you, you kissed him back.

Dick didn't care if he dropped dead right now. He'd die a happy man.

What more could he ask for?

He closes his eyes, replaying the scene in his head, like a broken record. How your lips felt against his own. How warm your body was. How the weight of your hand against his heart weighted a million tons, all the while being featherlight.

He sighed, trying to remember every single detail of the moment.

The sounds in the room. His feelings. Anything. Everything.

But the only thing he can see is you. Your eyes glimmering with tears, cheeks rosy as you looked up at him. Praying- Begging him to stay alive.

Seeing you sad, crying, broke his heart. But it meant something.

You cared. You cared enough to be upset at the prospect of him being hurt. Of him dying on the line of duty.

He chuckles lightly at that.

"You're so embarrassing." Dick snaps his eyes open, head turning to the door. He smirks at the sight of his brother leaning at the door frame.

"You're just jealous." Dick sings, sitting up, as Jason stomped in, throwing himself on the bed.

"Of you being a lovesick fool?" Dick turned his head, noticing how his brothers eyebrow raised, "I don't think so." Dick chuckles deeply at his words.

Jason was never good with words. Especially for someone that inhales books like he needs that sappy Victorian romance to breathe.

If this was anyone else he was saying this to, they'd misunderstand Jason's words for annoyance. Disgust even. His expression certainly conveyed that.

Dick wasn't anyone else though. He was his brother.

He could see the soft look in Jason's eyes, and the little twitch of his lips as he tried to keep his tough persona intact.

He knew that the big, scary Red Hood cried at rom-coms. He had seen him throw popcorn at the TV while watching Love Actually for the thousandth time. He knew that he kept a journal.

"You're the one to talk," he lightly hits Jason on the abdomen, "As if you don't write your little feelings in your little diary."

Jason glared at him. "It's not a diary," he muttered, looking away as a blush crept over his cheeks.

It was a diary.

"And besides, that's none of your business." Jason crossed his arms and sank deeper into the bed like it could swallow him whole.

Dick tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Do you write about me in it?”

“Shut up.”

“You totally do.”

Jason reached for the nearest pillow and chucked it at his head.

Dick caught it mid-air with practiced ease. “Aw, c’mon. Just a little ‘dear diary, my stupid older brother kissed the love of his life today and now he won’t shut up about it’?”

Jason buried his face in his hands. “I swear to God, if you don’t stop talking—”

“You’ll what? Write about me in your diary again?”

A muffled groan came from Jason as he pulled the blanket over his head. But even through the fabric, Dick could hear him laughing.

It was weird how you found yourself zoning out every two minutes. You weren't like this. You were focused. On important things.

Like university, and passing your classes, and working for a better future, and how Nightwing's lips felt just right against yours-

That's it! That's the problem.

Ever since that kiss - that wonderful, beautiful kiss - you haven't been able to focus on anything around you.

God. This is the dream situation all over again.

Why does the universe hate you so much?

You didn't ask any of it! You wanted to finish school, get the hell out of here, and find a job. You wanted a normal life. A perfectly normal, quiet life.

Kissing bleeding vigilantes in your bedroom is not normal. It's not anywhere near normal.

And what's the deal with that anyway?

It was just a kiss. You have kissed people before. But you have never stared at a wall, blushing and reeling, remembering how softly he held you, and just how right he felt against you.

But other people weren't him. They didn't climb in your window every other night and force you to take a break. They wouldn't bring you food, when the saw you had been running on fumes.

Other people weren't him.

You slap your hands on your cheeks, ignoring the pain, "Get yourself together!" you yell, forcibly exhaling from your mouth. An exhale combined with a groan.

This situation has gone far enough. You are an adult. You kiss people. People kiss you.

So pull yourself together, and get up from this damn couch. Dick is supposed to be here in a while, and you still haven't cleaned up.

Oh God Dick was coming over and you cant gather your scattered thoughts.

What is he gonna think, seeing you like this, seeing you so pathetic.

Wait- Why would Dick care? Why do you care about what Dick thinks?

He's probably just gonna make fun of you. Laugh that boisterous laugh and tease you till your face changed all shades of red.

So you stand up, groaning as you make your way to the kitchen. The house would instantly look better once the plates were out of the way. And besides you needed the distraction.

Even if said distraction was having to clean.

By the time you heard the knock on your door, you'd mostly finished cleaning.

Sure, the apartment wasn’t spotless—there were still a suspicious stain on the rug you decided to pretend didn’t exist, and dust behind the TV—but then again, what student apartment ever was?

You open the door, Dick standing on the other side with the widest grin on his face. Sure, he always was cheerful, but this was something else.

He was glowing.

"What's gotten you so cheery this morning?" you let him in, staring in mild confusion as he seemed to skip a step as he walked past you.

Something is definitely up.

Dick plopped on your couch, feet immediately finding their way on the console table in front of him, "Can't a man just be happy?" he says, smiling at you.

"No." you say simply, walking towards him, arms crossed. You look at him, eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Spill."

He stays silent though, staring at you, silently scaling whether or not he should tell you.

"You seemed stressed, why don't you tell me about what?" he's deflecting. You narrow your eyes at him, as if you were challenging him. Dick has never seen anything hotter.

"This isn't about me." you say, not missing a beat. Dick doesn't have to know about what happened the other night. It'll definitely spare you the teasing.

"Okay, something might have happened the other night..."

"Something as in..."

"I might have kissed someone-" he admitted slowly, soft smile on his lips.

He looked... flustered?

"WHAT?" you jump up at his words, eyes widening, "TELL ME MORE, THIS IS GREAT!" you smile at him and Dick feels his stomach dropping.

"Yeah... it is..." he says, defeated.

You don't care. He told you he kissed someone and you don't care.

And you seem excited for him. Happy.

Reality hit him like a slap in the face, quick and hard. You didn't like him. Not like he liked you. But you liked Nightwing. You liked the mask, not him...

It hurt more than he expected. He hadn’t anticipated how hollow it would feel to have you so close, yet so far away.

He felt his throat close up at the thought of telling you. He should, he knows he should.

At some point he should come clean. Tell you everything.

Would you hate him for it?

"Tell me about her! Do I know her?" you exclaim, leaning forward, the smile on your face earnest and real, and he feels his stomach turning.

He's dying inside and you don't even realise it.

"She's very smart, and so, so pretty, like- I dont know how a person that beautiful can exist," he says, looking in your eyes, his own glimmering and bright, "She's interesting, and funny, and always keeps me at my toes. I- I wanna be better for her..." he says, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

He sounds so earnest, so... in love with this girl.

He chuckles a bit before he continues, "Terrible first impression though! She hated me. Like, a lot. Tried to ignore me every time I talked to her."

"Sounds... a lot", you reply, voice steady.

"She thinks I'm an idiot most of the time" you giggle at his words, agreeing with her mentally. Dick was an idiot. A loud, talkative idiot who deserved the world.

"I really hope it works out, you deserve someone nice! Someone who'll...." you purse your lips trying to come up with the correct word, "Match your energy." your voice is light, teasing, but the way your lips twitch—just barely hiding a smirk—gives you away.

He raises an eyebrow in mock offense, "Is this you saying I'm a lot?"

"You are a lot."

It's been three days since Dick was over and seven since the kiss, and Nightwing hasn't stopped by.

You know, logically, that he's probably resting. Getting the wound restitched, correcting your messy work. Making sure he don't die from an infection.

Maybe he was on a mission. Maybe something was threatening Gotham again, and he had to be there. make sure everyone is safe.

Or maybe he just doesn't care, and the kiss was a spur of the moment thing.

Maybe he's embarrassed and doesn't know how to face you. You certainly wouldn't know how to face him if he appeared right now.

Maybe that's for the best. Not seeing him again.

Then why does it hurt? Why does your stomach twist and turn at the thought of not seeing him again.

And then you have Dick Grayson waltzing in as if he owns the place acting all happy and mushy about kissing some girl he knows, rubbing salt to the wound.

Why can't your situation be that simple? You bet Dick didn't drop out of the face of the earth after kissing that girl.

Who even is she?

You know Dick has friends other than you, and you have seen and heard countless times how people talk about him.

But he seemed... excited? He must really like this girl...

Then why didn't he ever mention her? Dick is a blabbermouth, in all ways possible. His mouth is trying to catch up to his stream of thoughts every time he opens it. There's no way he wouldn't rant about someone he has a crush to.

The maybe a one night stand? No, he said she disliked him - hated him, at the start. Also he didn't seem like the type to gush about a one night stand.

Then again, he is a man.

But he was gushing, like- fully enamoured, gushing, not boasting.

Why are you even thinking about Dick right now, he has nothing to do with the situation at hand.

Besides, thinking of Dick kissing someone else makes your stomach turn in ways you dont wanna think about, and your ears ring. How he held her, what he told her, what it must have been like to be a mere breath away from him...

You feel your face morph scrunch up at the thought.

You need to stop thinking about that, it makes you feel uneasy in a way you cant place.

Disgust probably...

Yeah... disgust.

"What if we go to the Metropolis library?" Dick suggests, spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

You grimace at that, "You're like a child Grayson, stop speaking with your mouth full." and he blows raspberries at you, only proving your point further.

"Think of it," he says, not giving your words any mind, "The books there aren't burnt. Or stolen" you can hear the spoon scraping against the bottom of the container, his eyes fixed on it, "Besides, a change in scenery will do you some good."

You shake your head at his words, raising your gaze from your notebook momentarily to turn and look at him sitting next to you.

"We wouldn't be going for tourism Dick" you bite down at your pen, as you go over a research paper he had found. Actually, Tim had found it and translated it, but he wasn't gonna tell you that.

He chuckles, leaving the now empty tub on the console table, "Okay, a change in libraries then."

You smile, nodding at his words, as he picks up with own papers, leaning back on your couch.

It was strange how he fit into your life just perfectly. Like he was always supposed to be there. Sitting by you on the couch, eating ice cream without a care in the world.

You realize you’d never really let anyone in this close. You always run away, and you tried. You really did, but he has a way you guess.

You notice the moles on his cheek, exactly the same pattern as Nightwings.

He still hasn't come by... And that was fine, he didn't owe you anything.

It still stung nonetheless.

Dick, however, keeps showing up. Not just for the project, either. The other day, he just showed up and watched TV with you. No purpose, no reason. Just… company.

Now that you think of it, he and Nightwing would make pretty good friends. They seemed to be the same flavour of reckless and stupid. And they would definitely laugh at each others stupid jokes.

You had never thought about it before, but they were very similar.

The way Dick carried himself, reminded you how Nightwing would slip in your room - always from the window. God forbid he used a door. And the way Nightwings lips turned up, forming into a smirk, really reminded you of Dicks smile.

And it wasn't just physical

Its weird how you never made that connection before. But then again a lot of people share traits. And moles apparently.

He's so close, but so far away

You unconsciously leaned in, and soon enough-

The feeling of his lips against yours is both startling and strangely comforting. It’s a moment suspended in time, both familiar and entirely new. But before you can process it, you pull back, wide-eyed.

He stared at the flabbergasted expression painted on your face, his own mirroring your shock.

Youre gaping like a fish at him, heart racing, "I- ah-"

What have you done?

You kissed Dick Grayson out of the blue. Why would you kiss him?

No no no no no.

He's gonna hate you. He already hates you. He- Oh my God, he likes someone! And he told you. And he was excited about it. And you kissed him!

You stand up abruptly, looking around shell-shocked. You can hear him call your name. You ignore it.

"I- ah-" you gulp, taking a deep breath, "I'm gonna go." you say and move towards the door, running out of your own house.

For a moment, confusion flashes across his face, but then, slowly, a smile spreads. He can't help it.

Dick stared at the door as he stood up, quietly cheering at the way his day had progressed.

His lips were chapped. Chapped but warm. And you couldn't stop thinking about them.

You hoped that taking a walk would clear your head. Make everything fall into place.

The only thing that happened was losing the feeling on your toes.

You shiver as you open your front door, ready to just fall asleep and ignore everything and everyone around you for the foreseeable future.

You were prepared to see an empty, quiet apartment. What you didn't expect was Dick Grayson still sitting on your couch, surfing through the channels of your TV.

Didn't he have a home to return to? Its been two hours.

You freeze mid-step, staring at him like he's a ghost, "You're still here."

"I'm still here." he turns of the TV and stand up, as you close the door behind you, the urge to run away growing strong again.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he chuckles sitting on the arm of the couch, "Do you need a reminder of what happened?" he smirks and you feel your face changing colours, freezing again.

"Youre so annoying!" you scoff, throwing your coat on a chair, not caring enough to hang it, heading to the sink, needing desperately some water.

"I wasn't annoying a few hours ago" you choke on water.

Was it always this hot in here?

You stomp back to the living room, looking at Dicks annoying face, "I could call the police!" you exclaim, "This is trespassing!"

"You wouldn't, East Enders dont like cops" he laughs rolling his eyes, not noticing how you freeze at his words.

"...How do you know that?" you ask, walking slowly towards him, confusion lacing your voice. Dick feels his heart stutter.

"What?"

"That I'm from the East End..." you repeat, not taking your eyes off of him for a single moment.

"You told me?" he laughs lightly, hoping you'd drop it. Believe that you had actually told him and not his alter ego.

"No I didn't, the only person who knows is my mom and-" you inhale sharply, stepping closer to him determined.

"Wha- What are you doing?" Dick asks, watching you stare at his abdomen, as if youre trying to see through his shirt. You reach for the hem, and he immediately starts moving around, like a child.

"Stop squirming!" you yell.

Your fingers tremble as you grab the hem of his shirt. He flinches. You don’t care.

"No, let go!" Dick grabs your wrist holding your hand down. You glare at him as you throw his hand again, immediately raising his shirt.

You gasp lightly at the sight.

Those are stitches on his abdomen. Your stitches.

Realisation hit you like a truck, chills running down your spine.

How could you have not known? You literally had all the parts of the story and still didn't figure it out.

You are so stupid.

You raise your gaze, meeting his eyes, "Motherfucker!" You exclaim, staring at him, fist still curled in his shirt.

"If she's half as pretty as you, I wou-" he joked, trying to suppress the urge to run away.

He really was his fathers son, huh?

"Dick!" you warn him, yanking on his shirt.

"...Surprise?" Dick laughs lightly, waiting for your reaction. The screaming, the crying, the betrayal.

He waited for you to throw him out of your house. Out of your life.

But you simply stare at him, eyes darting.

It's him...

It's actually him.

You know that you should be angry. He lied to you, he pretended to be two different people. It'd be normal and more than justified to lash out on him right now.

But all you feel is... relief.

It all makes sense.

They were the same person. The same wonderful, annoying, absolutely perfect person.

Nightwing hadn't left you high and dry, because he was here every day, watching TV with you, eating, working.

And Dick- Dick was talking about you. All that softness, all that love he displayed like a trophy in his eyes, were for you.

"Listen, I know I should have told you-" he starts speaking, taking your hand into his, forcing you to let go of the fabric.

He's running the pad of his thumb gently on your knuckles. It's the first time he has done that, and yet its comfortable. Familiar.

Your head is spinning. He is talking to you - he constantly talks. His mouth is moving but you can't hear a word. He's no doubt explaining himself, telling you he'll go if you want him to. Being himself.

You feel the air raggedly enter your lungs as you inhale, and the next thing you know, your lips are on his for the second time today.

They are still chapped. Still warm.

Dicks shock only lasts a moment before his hands find your waist, falling into place immediately. He feels your hands around his neck, the smell of your shampoo, overwhelming his senses. He pulls you towards him, holding you close, scared this is a dream, and that'll he wake up in his room, alone.

You pull away, resting your forehead against his. His heartbeat is drumming against your fingers.

"You're Nightwing." you exhale

"I am." he said, trying to catch his breath

"You kissed me."

"I did." he nods simply, because to him it was simple.

"And then you disappeared!" you hit the back of his neck, looking at him annoyed, "Who does that? And then you come by and tell me all about it, without actually telling me!" Dick laughs as he pulls you in a tight hug, resting his head on your shoulder.

"I know" you feel him smiling, "I'm sorry." he says, and you don't care about him not telling you anymore.

Because he's holding you.

He's here.

And nothing has ever felt more like home.

Hiiii, I know its been long, I'm sorry but university is very much kicking my ass (all for nothing too, I failed all three of my tests lmao)

You've been so supportive and nice and it lowkey makes me cry so I really hope you like it🤗🤗

@skyguys-princess @dontyouthinkitstrange @jaemindontberude @st4rg1rln

[sweetchillipeppers]

A CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE!! IN THIS ECONOMY! we’re being spoiled ☺️☺️

In Any Kinder Universe - Prologue

There's a boy on your front doorstep. He looks about ten, and you would not be at all concerned, where it not for the league of assassins garb he wore. You were still fairly sure you could take him, but if you could, you would prefer to avoid beating up a child. You allow the curtain to float back down into place, and move out of the living room to the entryway. Had you known the league would come, perhaps you would have let him slip something a little more heavy duty into your bag … but then why would Ra's send a little boy? and why does he have a suitcase half his size? You open the door, looking down at him. "You lost, buddy?" "No," the boy replies, staring at you as if you've disappointed him. Wait. That stare.

"Your address was on father's computer as a safe house for code red or black scenarios." He moves into your house, leaving the case behind as if he expects someone else to collect it.

"Father's?" you echo, blinking. Oh. "My father; perhaps you are a lesser detective then I was lead to believe. It seems the trend. The Batman." Maybe it would have been preferable if Ra's Al Ghul sent him to kill you. "A son of the bat in leagues robes?" "My Mother is Thalia Al Ghul. I believe you have met. I am Damian Al Ghul, heir to the demon's head and the bat." You had indeed met Thalia. Ten years ago when you were a scrap of a girl, still learning to flip and jump and fly, yet to be given the mantle, she had come to Gotham. You saw why now, or at least the consequences. The boy's heritage was obvious. You roll your neck, flexing your hands to fight the urge to reach for something in a belt you no longer have. "fascinating as that may be, it doesn't explain why you came here." The boy levels another look you know well at you, as if he sees all you are and finds you lacking. "I understand you trained alongside Gordon and Grayson, and then Todd, later training Drake and Brown." discomfort wells in your chest as you feel the ghost of a too tight cowl suppressing your face. "I don't know that I trained alongside Babs and Dick… I came in right before the … before she was attacked and he left." "But you did in fact train with and later train every previous Robin. It is also true that you yourself were once slated to replace Grayson." You nod. "But I didn't, and then I left." "Then you quit. Soon, I will take my rightful place by my father's side, and I will not be the first denied your tutoring." Your head aches, and vision blurs slightly. "Tim isn't Robin anymore? what- what happened?" "He was replaced by the Batman's true heir. He is not dead, if that's where you went. Grayson said you were sensitive now. weak. I see why my father had you go. Still, he speaks highly of you. When I asked about you - do you know what he said?" "I'm sure you're about to tell me." you mutter, but the boy pays no heed to the bitter tone. "He named you his greatest protege. Claimed Drake and Brown flourished under your guidance. Then demanded I stay away. Leave well enough alone and let you rot here in central city suburbia." you scoff. "Healing, not rotting. I hate to burst whatever weird bubble you're in, but I am out of the game. Scram." Damian shakes his head. "No. If you are what father claims, I will study under you." "And if I refuse?" "Batgirl, turning away a Robin asking for help? Unlikely." It happens before you can think, you grab his shoulder and slam him against the door frame. "That is not my name anymore!" He grabs your wrist and tries to twist out of your grasp, but you lock in and stand as stone. It takes you a minute to realise what's happening. Thalia's boy or not, goading little shit or not, Damian was a child. You let go and take a step back. It's not your name anymore. The mantle no longer yours. Technically if he wanted Batgirl, he ought go to Stephanie Brown. But he was a child, and name or no, if you turned him away and something happened to the kid… Sick laughter rings in your ears. Jason, so broken down, sat in that chair. The shot. Your partner… your best friend and first love dead so quickly after so much pain. "Take your stuff upstairs, third door off the landing. I- I need to have a diazepam and make a goddamn call."

You stare at the contact, as if that will fix the scenario. As if you can inflict your ire on the man who lent you his last name through manifestation alone. You cannot. He answers immediately, his tone completely blank, as if he's not even registered that this is the first time you've spoken in over a year. Your first name and nothing more, clipped and short. "Bruce, hi. Lose a brat, lately?" You are proud of how level you keep your voice. "Might've appreciated knowing I had another brother before he showed up. I'd have stocked the fridge with goldfish or something." Except you didn't, you didn't have a new brother, not really. Bruce didn't truly see you as a daughter, just a toy soldier. A truth that had slapped you in the face after you'd had a breakdown and needed to step out of the cowl, and your use to him was over. He hadn't even said goodbye. Just slipped an emergency alert into your bag at some point. The one trinket you kept from 'home'. "Damian arrived safely then." Your eyebrows raise "You sent him?" "I told him to stay away. To grant you space. Someone will be around shortly to collect him." "…" you feel pathetic to ask it. "You told him I was a good teacher?" "Something like that." is the unreadable reply. "Think he has anything to learn from me?" Your voice is thick and you fight the need to let it rasp as you swallow back the panic and the fear and the hope he brings. Even now, after so much time, and anger, and therapy, some part of you is that little girl desperate for the love of the only father you have ever known. "I do." "Then… maybe he can stay, just for a little while."

INCIDENT REPORT Concerned Parties: Batman. Batgirl Metahuman - Civilian {SEE FILE}. Incident nature: Phone call. Duration: 3 minutes 34 seconds. Notable information: Damian to reside temporarily with civilian to receive training. First contact with Civilian in 13 months, 2 weeks and 3 days post incident {SEE FILE} Personal notes: Damian has broken prototypical regarding his sister. She is to be left alone, per her request. To be reprimanded on return. She sounded initially calm and making snarky commentary but swiftly became distressed. Confirms suspicion that her leaving this life is for her best health. Distance to be maintained. Greatly relieving to hear from her again. She is missed. Incident marked closed at 1900 by Batman.

Hi! Batchilla here! Repeat after me team: if I vote on the poll and don't reblog, I am a piece of shit and need to learn basic tumblr etiquette!

Files MAY become available if they do not win the poll they first appear in... but I make no promises. Thank you to @k1ssyoursister for making the divider. Thank you to @sunnie-angel for giving this a beta read. and the biggest thank you possible to @heavysighing-dreamyeyes for letting me yap at you so much about this series, you have been unreal.

[sweetchillipeppers]

I love bottle episodes I love when writers focus an entire episode on the characters just interacting with one another in a confined space in my humble opinion there's nothing better for characters than a good bottle episode

[sweetchillipeppers]

unfortunate series of events at the charity gala

[sweetchillipeppers]

I find him very cute 🥹

[sweetchillipeppers]

Sunglasses Pt. 1 🤍

It’s Valentines Week!! I wanted to give you all something a little special this upcoming silly holiday and to celebrate over 900 followers 💐

This is my first post of my Valentines Event! please check out the link because this is my first event :D I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE THE DRAWING 🤍

[sweetchillipeppers]

Sunglasses Pt.2

Happy Valentines Week Day 2!! SURPRISE 🤭 this is my first time drawing Nightwing! it also might have been silly to keep his mask on with the glasses but it also felt right?? lol

This is part of my Valentines Event! It’s my first event and i hope u check out the other posts if you’re interested 😌🤍💐

[sweetchillipeppers]

imagine waiting for the bus together while it rains but then you both realise the bus isn’t coming and have to share an umbrella. the two of you squished together under the crappiest plastic you could get, but he holds it over you and when you notice his soaking shoulder you pull the umbrella over him so you can match. imagine the late night grocery store trips where you convince him to push you around in a shopping cart (it didn’t take much convincing) and then you promise to push him round the car park and he laughs but you do it anyways. the car park is empty but even if it was full the only person you’re looking at is jason. and the only person he’s looking at is you. imagine pulling an all nighter for an assignment but he’s right there with you bringing snacks and drinks and you threaten to send him away if he keeps distracting you (he’s just staring lovingly but you can’t help but stare back) and he carries you home when you fall asleep after you click submit.

sorry for hijacking your post but college aus make me feral 🩷🩷

imagining a college au with jason. he’s carrying your bag because u overpack your backpack and it’s hurting your shoulders. the two of you get overpriced tea and coffee to romanticize school and study with each other but never truly get anything done because you have to talk about the newest book release and listen to the couple breaking up in the study room next door. he waits for ur classes to get done, bringing a small snack to share. he purposely brings headphones that still have the wires connected to share with u because you mentioned it once that you would want to experience the closeness of it with someone special. he’s there when your water bottle leaks and it spills all over you, he doesn’t want you feeling the pressure of the attention, so he splashes the water on himself too and the two of u are walking in damp clothes, laughing, arm in arm as strangers wonder how the two of u ended up like that. he helps you look for your favorite pen that u lost in the library. he loves the way ur face morphs into concentration and pokes at u with his pen when he wants ur attention again. he prefers sitting across from you because he wants to be the first person you see when you look up from your laptop.

[sweetchillipeppers]

so uhhh. yeah.

[sweetchillipeppers]

hiii, will you continue writing the teacher au?

i will i promise i’ve just had three weeks of uni exams so i haven’t started part 3 yet but i have a plan for it so i can’t give you a time deadline but i swear it’s in the works

[sweetchillipeppers]

Heads or Tails?

Jason Todd x Reader - Teacher AU Pt 2

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral!Reader

While on a school trip, Two Face takes you and your class hostage in the Gotham Museum. After realising Damian is missing, you sneak away to find him, running into the Red Hood instead, who is of course, Mr Jason Todd, your colleague and forever rival, behind the mask. TW: Hostage-taking, guns, violence, blood, bad language

A/N The fic that started it. yeah I wrote this one first lol. I have not yet started writing part 3 and I have exams this week so it might be worked on next week. I don't plan on this series being longer than three parts but if inspiration strikes me, we'll see.

Tags: Rivals to lovers, mutual pining, teacher AU Word Count: 3716

Pt 1 Pt 2

Your students were rowdy on the bus. You could hardly blame them, it was far too early on a Saturday for your liking but you’d offered this history trip as an extra credit option open to your freshman class as part of your Ancient History topic and a surprising number of students were interested. So you, your teaching assistant and your 15 pupils all piled out the bus and into the Gotham Museum at 9am on a Saturday. The exhibition you were visiting was from Themyscira. Jewels, weapons, art: all very rare and very valuable. It was of course a walking advertisement to be robbed but the exhibition had been untouched for days so you had convinced your school board that this was a safe opportunity for the children to see some of the things you had been learning about in class. 

The exhibition room itself was large. It had clearly been styled to replicate Themyscira’s Greek architecture, with tall marble columns and large braziers lighting the room dramatically. Your class settles near the start of the exhibition and a tour guide who introduces themselves as Sammy begins the talk.

“And this is the original axe that Wonder Woman used. Beside it you can see some of the armour pieces she donated when the exhibition was first organised. Later you might even get to hold some.” The students all started chattering excitedly at the prospect. Your group was then led around the large room over to a tapestry depicting the history and movement of Themyscira into the international community. “Themyscira is now a thriving nation with Wonder Woman acting as their UN diplomat.” The guide then turns, “And over here we have some pottery shards depicting different parts of her life.” The first half of the tour wraps up shortly after that and the students are given some free time to explore the exhibition themselves. 

You make your way around the room, listening in and helping out the students with their worksheets until you overhear a group near the entrance. 

“It’s a pity Mr Todd couldn’t come,” you hear a student say. He wasn’t there, you’d made sure of it no matter how much your students begged. It’s unfortunate that the trip was scheduled the same day as an important rugby tournament. “Wonder Woman is his favourite superhero.”

It’s a pity that you now have to hate Wonder Woman for the rest of your life. Okay that’s dramatic but now she’s been ruined. Why would he do this to you? 

“My favourite is Batman. We’re Gothamites, remember?” One kid grins.

“Wonder Woman is an admirable hero but I must agree with Charlie, Batman is superior.” Damian interjects. You were glad he was starting to be more social in his classes after your conversation.

“I like Green Arrow.”

You can then hear raucous laughter as your student tries to defend her choice, until she locks eyes with you and decides that her safest bet is to offer you as a sacrifice instead. “Who’s your favourite hero?” 

Well you can’t say Wonder Woman anymore- even if that was a huge part in why you wanted to come to the exhibition. “Well I quite like Superman. I think he’s an inspiration to us all.” Safest choice. You get a few nods, and a couple eye rolls, of course you made this into a teaching moment. “But my favourite is Robin.” you finish.

Damian gleams at that for a second, puffing his chest out like a preening bird. He then checks his phone. “I must go to the bathroom. I will be back soon.” 

“Do you want someone to go with? The museum is pretty big.” 

“I do not require assistance. Besides, the next half of the talk will begin soon. I will not be long.”

The next half of the talk started soon after Damian left. The next speaker was very informative and the kids were filling out their worksheets diligently. The guide brought out a couple pieces of real Themyscerian armour when it happened. It started with gunshots near the front of the museum. Then silence. You ushered your kids quickly to the one side of the room alongside other museum visitors, getting them all to crouch low while you and your teaching assistant, Ms Anderson, peered into the corridor. The two security guards in the exhibit had their guns drawn, watching the front entrance double doors with bated breath. Silence. Too silent. The emergency exit door flung open behind you. You turn swiftly, using your arms to corral your kids close together by the wall in a huddle. More gunshots have you flinching. Then the spray stops. You look over at the two guards. Dead. A voice grabs your attention instead. 

Two-Face, flipping a coin absent-mindedly. “You will all be fine so long as no one plays the hero while we collect from this lovely display.” He says languidly. 

Multiple armed thugs walk into the room pointing guns at the civilians. Now hostages. 

“I would hate to hurt any of these cute kids” You scowl at him, not your smartest move but who could blame you. Two-Face smiles and flips his coin. Your eyes widen and Ms Anderson squeezes your hand. “Safe.” 

Two-Face replies. “Anyone else want a go?”

You sigh in relief, forcing yourself to swallow your pride and your anger. Your kids are here and you will not be the reason any of them die today. He had almost killed you. Your life was tethered to that stupid coin. 

Two-Face then demands everyone’s phones be handed in. You collect your classes. That’s when you notice it. Shit. You settle your class down, praying you miscounted,  sitting them on the floor and doing a quick headcount. 14. Double shit.

“Cathy.” You whispered but it came out almost like a breath. Your teaching assistant turned to you. “We’re one kid short.”

“What?” She frantically replied, “Who?”

“Damian. He went to the bathroom, just before the attack started.”

“Shit.” Cathy paused, doing a quick headcount of her own. “Shit. When Batman gets here we’ll tell him.”

“We don’t have time to wait for Batman.”

“You really think they'd hurt him? We’re hostages, how would shooting a child help?”

“I am not taking that chance. I’ve got to find him.”

“During the active hostage situation? How do you plan to do that?”

You have no idea. You suppose you’d need a distraction. Something to draw attention to the rest of the museum so you can sneak out and find Damian. 

A distant bang can be heard. More gunshots. Some of your students cover their ears. Two-Face directs three men to come with him when they leave to investigate. 

“Batman will be here soon,” Ms Anderson says with an encouraging smile to the class. Some of your students nod to each other. 

“Come on guys,” You chime up, “Do you really think Wonder Woman is going to let someone just steal all her stuff? I’m sure the entire Justice League is on their way” 

Your students seem more relaxed by this. There are only two guards left in the room both with heavy weaponry. Some kind of assault rifle you’re sure. But you still need a way out to find Damian. Now more than ever seeing as Two-Face has left the exhibition.

You take a deep breath and stand up. “Um, excuse me, Mr Guard sir,” You ask, hoping you sound very innocent, “I really need the bathroom. Like super bad.”

“Hold it.” He grunts.

“Oh um, I can’t. I have IBS?”

“Fine. Come on. Where’s the toilets?” Well, he sure changed his opinion quick. But you know what they say, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“What, you're just gonna take her?” The other guard groans. 

“Uh yeah. I have a wife with IBS. When they got to go, they got to go.”

“So you’re gonna leave me by myself for the Batman?”

“One: Batman's nocturnal. It’s lunchtime. I don’t think he’s coming.” Some of your students snicker at this but Cathy silences them quickly. “And two: you are the only one in the room with a semi automatic gun. And the emergency exit has two guards right outside. But I guess if you can’t handle it I can call in one of the boys from the prehistoric section.”

“No I can handle it… just be quick.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The goon turns to you, “Come on.”

Okay. Stage one complete. And you’re going to the toilets towards Damian which is good. Unfortunately you don’t know how to lose the guard you have. You want to observe him but he’s walking behind you so you have no idea if he has any back up weapons. You reach the nearest toilets quickly and you strain to listen for any noise coming from the men’s bathroom. Nothing. Either Damian was hiding very well or he wasn’t in there anymore. You still needed to check for yourself, just to be safe. 

“Um sorry, can you go grab my bag? I don’t have my medication on me, they're in my purse. I left it in the other room.” You ask the guard, begging for a miracle.

“Oh no problem.” You breathe in full of hope that he’s just going to leave you unattended until he pulls a plastic sandwich bag with medication out of his suit jacket and hands it to you. You blink. 

“They’re for my wife. Always good to be prepared. What kind do you need?” 

You blink again.

“Uhhh. The anti-diuretics?”

He hands you the pill pack. “I’ll wait here, be quick.” He orders.

You walk into the bathroom.

You must be in shock. Yeah, that must be it. This is the strangest hostage situation you’ve been in. But you still needed to find Damian. 

You’d only just started pacing in the bathroom when the door slams open and the goons body falls to the ground. Your eyes widen as the Red Hood stalks in. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands. The Red Hood is as imposing as one would expect an ex-crime lord turned vigilante to be. But you don’t have time to consider the politics of vigilantism. 

“It’s one of my kids. His name’s Damian. He wasn’t with the group when the attack started. He was in the bathroom. You need to help me find my kid. Please.” You beg.

Red Hood stands there for a second stunned. Jason wasn’t really used to anything but cold and snide remarks from you, and maybe the occasional light-hearted jab. Aside from that heart to heart on parents’ evening that started sincere and well-meaning, when you remembered yourself, you returned to harshness or just plain avoided him. To see you so worried over Damian was a breath of fresh air. He stood unmoving for far too long so you decided you would at least check the other bathroom while his brain rebooted or whatever. Jason only saw a glimpse of you leaving the room, when he ran out after you, and watched you enter the neighbouring door. 

“Damian.” You whisper-shouted “Damian. It’s me. Are you here? Tell me you're here.” 

No reply.

Then you spot it. Damian’s backpack on the floor of a locked cubicle. “Shit. Damian!” You pull yourself up to look into the cubicle, praying to any and all gods out there that there was a perfectly good reason he wasn’t responding. You breathe a sigh but you don’t know whether you should be relieved or not. The cubicle was empty.

“He’s not here.” You say, absentmindedly as you pull the backpack out from under the cubicle door and swing it onto your shoulder.

“You can’t just run off like that.” Red Hood chastises. “You could get hurt.”

“So could my student.” You whip back at the man. “Who is not here and could be bleeding out somewhere. I need to find him. I have a duty of care to these kids.”

This was the version of you Jason was used to. An angry spitfire, although he hadn’t seen righteous fury before. The protectiveness you have over your students, his brother in particular, made him feel something. Although he wasn’t entirely sure what.

“Look, you need to calm down. Describe the kid.” he of course knew what Damian looked like. He also knew that you wouldn’t find him because he was in his Robin costume fighting Two-Face. He was sure Alfred would be having a conversation with him about smuggling his Robin costume onto a school trip in his backpack. But he needed to calm you down and convince you that Damian was safe. 

“Damian Wayne. 5”4, dark black hair, green eyes.” You paused, thinking for a moment, “Angry eyebrows.” 

He choked a laugh back.

“I already found him. He’s safe, outside with the GCPD.” 

“Oh thank god.” Jason watches you release 10 years worth of stress from your body at that admittance. “We need to get back to the group. If I stay away too long the guards might get suspicious and something might happen to the kids.” 

God, Jason had misjudged you. You had a heart of pure, shining gold. He feels bad about all the misunderstandings now. He promises himself that he'll be nicer to you on Monday but first he needs to focus on getting you out. 

“There’s one guard in the room with the hostages and two outside the emergency exit. Do you think the GCPD has dealt with the two outside?”

Jason is attracted to competence, and holy shit you're competent right now. Making plans, working to protect the kids. Maybe his colleagues were right when they said you were amazing.

“No but Robin will have. Robin report.” He orders, pressing his fingers up to his earpiece.

You wait for a moment as he talks with Robin.

“Wait here.” He orders, “I need to deal with the one guard in the exhibition hall. Lock yourself in a stall. I’ll be back in less than five.”

And with that, the Red Hood leaves you alone. 

You move into a stall, locking the door and pulling your feet onto the toilet seat. Five minutes feels like forever. And it can’t have been more than three minutes when you see the light of the outside stream in through the open door on the floor. You get down and unlock the stall. “That was hardly five minutes,” you start as you walk into the bathroom. Then you stop. That’s not the Red Hood. 

“Fuck.”

Jason dealt with the last guard easily. No problems in the slightest. He got everyone out the emergency exit and reassured the nice old lady called Cathy that you were fine and Damian had been rescued earlier, that he was going back out for you in just a moment. He opened his com line: “Exhibition room secure, hostages with GCPD.”

“Hood, you did not save my teacher.” Robin’s voice was shaky down the line.

“Ms Anderson is with the paramedics and the rest of your class, I left (Y/N) in the bathroom with your backpack, I’m going back for her now.” Jason rolled his eyes and walked back into the building.

“Hood, building entrance. Two-Face has (L/N).”

Jason hasn’t felt this guilty in a while, running through the corridors of the museum and taking out at least 7 more goons on his way to Robin. He can’t believe he didn’t leave you somewhere more secure or at least with a weapon. Now he has to be the most nicest he’s ever been on Monday. If you make it to Monday. He spots a barely contained rage of a Robin trying to reason with Two-Face, who is holding you against himself, gun to your temple. Jason is glad he can’t see your face. He doesn’t know if he can take it. To see you so terrified when you were so strong just 10 minutes ago.

“Heads? Or tails?” Two-Face asks.

Robin is scanning for any way to disarm him, all his guards are gone but with you in the firing line there’s nothing that can be done. He starts to sneak toward the group.

“I know you’re back there, Red Hood. Stop sneaking around. Or this cute teacher gets it” Two-Face’s rough tone softens mockingly, “Make a bet, start a gamble, heads or tails?” Jason comes out of his hiding place and stalks towards his brother. He would blow Dent’s face off if he could. All he needs is an opening. He’d probably have to fight Damian for the honour though. 

“Did my class make it out okay?” It’s the first words you’ve said since Jason entered the room and judging by Damian’s barely sealed expression it’s the first they’ve heard you talk as well.

“Yes.” Jason responds.

You smile and take another breath, adrenaline spiking. “Flip the coin.”

Jason’s eyes widened, he figured they could get at least a few minutes before you’d be forced into the 50/50 but you’d sped up the process. Why? Was this confrontation really so hopeless? 

Two-Face flips the coin and as it arcs through the sky Jason shoots it, sending it careening of course toward the front desk. Two-Face lets out a wail and begins dragging you both toward where the coin landed while the vigilantes watch.

He pushes you down onto all fours, gun still at your head, “Find it.” You gulp and start searching for the coin that held your fate. There you see it, angled in a grout line and you see the coin's scars marked upwards. 

Jason didn’t think Two-Face noticed your flinch, and if he did, he probably put it towards the general anxiety. But Jason saw. Jason knows you’ve seen that coin. And he knows you didn’t make it. He knows you’re playing on borrowed time now and borrowing from the house never ends well for anyone. He nods to Robin. They have to strike now. He waits for anything that could work as a distraction, he hopes to the Gods for anything but the Gods are silent. It’s you who takes charge again. “I think I see it, I just need to stretch more.” Two-Face moves his gun back as you flop onto your stomach and army crawl so you can reach that bit further. Maybe you could flip the coin, change your own fate. Would two-Face know? Your breathing wasn’t even anymore. Your thoughts didn’t make sense. You just want to go home. You shut your eyes tight and as you grasp the coin and cry “Got it!” Hood launches himself at Two-Face, who fumbles, not having seen the results of his coin and fires instead a warning shot next to your head. It doesn’t matter though because Robin has you and is dragging you towards the doors saying something that sounds like “You’re okay, you’re fine, everyone is safe.” and prying the coin away from your hands but you just don’t know anymore. He brings you to the paramedics but doesn’t head back inside. He doesn’t leave at all. Instead he stands silently next to you like a guard dog or loyal hawk. “Don’t you need to help Red Hood?”

“No.” He responds immediately.

The two of you sit in silence until Cathy comes stumbling over. “Oh my goodness we were all so worried. Are you okay? And before you ask if the kids are all fine, don't worry, everyone is accounted for.” She rambles.

“Even Damian?” You ask.

Robin tenses.

“No but I was assured by Bruce Wayne himself that he made it safely home when I called earlier.”

“Oh thank god. I’m so glad. How are you feeling?”

“Me? I think I might retire next week. I won’t be on any field trips for a while after this. I think it’s too much excitement for my heart.” Cathay laughs, “Do you have a ride home? I’m just getting everyone picked up or sent home and was going to head off myself. You are more than welcome to join me.” She offers, probably feeling somewhat guilty over your ordeal. For no reason of course. It was hardly her fault you were held at gunpoint.

“Don't worry Cathy, I’ll be fine getting back. When the last kid is gone, go home. I’ll do all the paperwork and incident report tomorrow.”

“Oh honey you are an angel, I’ll bring in a lovely cake for you and the class on Monday, we certainly deserve it.” She grins and heads off past the police tape and back to the stragglers of children who haven’t yet gone home.

It’s barely even a minute or perhaps it’s an hour before Red Hood drags Two-Face out of the museum, tied up. The police move in to gather the various unconscious thugs scattered around the building and the vigilantes walk toward you. 

“Are you alright?” Red Hood asks, modulated voice heavy.

“I’m fine, no injuries.” You say. You’re really just tired. It’s been too long a day. You want to go home. “I’m sorry for leaving you in the bathroom by myself. I figured Two-Face was busy with Robin.”

“He was busy. It was some goons who dragged me there. It was just dumb stupid bad luck, don’t blame yourself. Besides, if I hadn’t left the group none of this would’ve happened. I’m sorry for making the fight harder.” You curl inwards.

Robin speaks up.

“Do not apologise. You were noble and brave searching for your missing student. I’m sorry you were not informed of his safety.” 

“It’s okay Robin, you guys don’t have control over everything that happens in a situation like this.” You try to encourage the young hero.

“You have a good attitude. You would definitely be my favourite teacher.” Jason can’t help but bristle at Damian’s favouritism, wasn’t he the brother?

“Aww thank you. You’re my favourite hero, Robin. Superman’s got nothing on you.” You smile. God that smile would knock Jason out. He’s honestly quite glad you hate him at the school. He doesn’t think he could manage if you treated him so kindly. Unbeknownst to Jason of course, you suppose that, secretly, Red Hood was also your favourite. He had changed your fate. And after saving your life it didn’t seem that Wonder Woman could really compare to the Red Hood.

Dividers made by @/cafekitsune

Taglist: @theendofthematerialgworl @salvatt1 @insideoutjulie

[sweetchillipeppers]

Jason Todd x Reader - Teacher AU

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: Y’all what if I actually got back into writing fics? I didn’t know I could do that. But write what you want to see. And I want to see English teacher by day, Red Hood by night Jason Todd with History teacher reader so sue me. More importantly, I want to see Damian in reader’s classroom at lunchtime bitching about his brother. I already have part two, so that will be posted soon. (And y’all get to have a look at the Red Hood!)

Also I believe this is gender neutral if anyone sees gendered language let me know and I'll fix it.

Tags: Rivals to lovers, kind of mutual pining, Teacher AU Word Count: 3368

Pt 1 Pt 2

You were warned that teaching would be just like high school all over again. The same cliques and bullies and drama that plagued the halls when you were 15, to be repeated now that you’ve returned to the school as an adult. To think that fully grown human beings are still caught up in the same scandals, doomed to the same behaviour 10 years after they should have grown out of it. You never would have believed it until you saw it yourself. Until even you devolved to your teenage years, developing a deep hatred for a fellow colleague. Okay. Hatred was a strong word for the rivalry but the dislike you held for a certain English teacher was real. And right now, he was the reason you’ve had to delay a test for your students. The email you’d received less than 10 minutes before your class was due to start did nothing but add to the rage you felt.

“10th grade English stream A2 is running over. 7 kids still need to present their projects. They’ll be late for their next class. Sorry for the delay.” 

Attached was a list of students in the class who would be late. All unsurprisingly in your history class. Mr Jason Todd had no respect for you, no respect for your time and no respect for your subject.

As the two youngest teachers at the school, you were often paired together: volunteer work, lunch duty, after school workshops. It didn’t help that your two departments, history and english, also worked closely with one another. You hated that the kids adored him. You hated that the other teachers still adored him, especially after all his flakiness. You knew that he hadn’t appeared at over half the after school volunteer work you had to do, and that he likely had an active social or dating life that was the cause, something you missed since becoming a teacher. So maybe, the hatred was all just jealousy. NOT. As if you’d be so petty.

When you first met Jason, you liked him. Like really liked him. He was pretty and smart and you are oh so attracted to competence. You trapped him in literary discussions from the Brothers York to the Odyssey but he never minded. You threw a couple joint trip ideas around to go see a local Shakespeare play after Christmas or the early 19th century writers exhibition at the museum. He was also the rugby coach and his practice on the field coincided with your volleyball team’s in the hall so twice a week you tidied the equipment cupboard together. You were so certain the two of you would be fast friends. Maybe more. So when the librarian went on paternity leave in October and Jason needed help re-cataloguing the entire library onto the new system you volunteered. A chance to spend time with someone you liked and helping out the school: a win-win. What you hadn’t expected was that what should’ve been a couple hours at most after school for a week turned into a month-long endeavour for you. Only you. Jason would stay for at most 20 minutes before running away with some kind of excuse and vanishing for the rest of the night. By the third week, you’d started cataloguing during your lunch breaks to try speed up the process (and to avoid spending any time with him while your temper simmered under pleasantries). After that you distanced yourself. He clearly had no respect for your time and you by extension. No more literary discussions in the staff room. No more joint tidies in the equipment store and no more library cataloguing. Mr Jason Todd was the most unreliable colleague you had. The bane of your existence. And yet, everyone seems to forget this fact when he flashes a smile or starts talking about classic literature. But not you. No, you could see through his gorgeous face, past those good looks into the depths of his terrible personality. And unfortunately, the only person who agreed with you was a child.

“Todd irritates me far too often. I put in a request at the start of the year that I would not be in any of his classes.” Damian states matter of factly. The two of you were sat in your classroom eating lunch. The youngest Wayne opting to spend time surrounded by history displays instead of braving the lunch hall and eating alone. And, as the teacher, it was your responsibility to encourage him to make friends. After the two of you bitch about Jason of course. 

“I wish I could put in a request to stop seeing him in the staff room. But no, he wanders in with his fancy books and his fancy teas-”

“Those would be Pennyworth’s” He confirms.

“-Flashes a smile and expects me to be nice to him after how flakey he’s been. Can you believe it?”

Damian swallows a bite of his sandwich and nods solemnly. “I can.”

“He’s incredibly unreliable. I mean how do people give him any responsibility after this?” Your arms gesturing wildly.

“Perhaps this is weaponised incompetence. I always say to Father that he is too incompetent for his job.” Damian suggests, shaking his head. “But Father says that he is one of the most competent people he knows”

It’s not too hard to be competent in front of ‘Brucie’ Wayne. But you don’t tell Damian that.

“No, he's definitely competent enough. I know he’s incredibly intelligent and I sat in for one of his classes. He clearly just has zero time management skills.”

“And he lacks respect.”

“And he lacks respect!” You shout, then realise you should probably calm down and sheepishly rub the back of your neck. Although it seems that Damian hadn’t cared about your outburst.

“I am the blood son, he should at least be respectful to the rightful heir. But no, he and Grayson make a habit of tossing me about like a basketball.”

That sounds quite sweet to you, that Damian’s older brothers treat him so nicely and the disagreement must show on your face because Damian scoffs.

“Pennyworth tells me it’s ‘Sibling Bonding’. I do not wish to think of those two imbeciles as related to me.”

“The curse of being the youngest.” you offer in response, “Although it sounds like they want to be playful with you. That they want a good relationship.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending Todd right now.”

You huff at that, changing the subject. “Maybe you should make some other friends, that way you can spend less time with your brothers. Think of it as an escape plan.”

“Are you not my friend?” 

“Um well, yes, but I meant some kids your own age.”

“Ah. Father agrees. He says that Jon is not enough. That I need more than one friend. How many friends do you have? I will achieve the same.” Damian looks determined, which means you’re at least getting through to him. You, on the other hand, feel like a deer in headlights. Honestly you can count the number of friends you have from outside work on one hand. 

“I have lots of friends.” You brag. Damian does not look convinced. “How about you aim to make two more friends? Maybe you should join a club. Ms Song says you excel in her art classes. The art club meets on Tuesday lunchtimes and after school on a Wednesday.”

“I enjoy my lunches in the history room.”

“But this would work for both of us Damian. I start lunchtime duty next week on Tuesdays. I won’t be in my classroom.” A lie, of course, but you really want Damian to make some friends and be more social amongst the other students. You’re not sure who’s timetabled for Tuesday lunchtime duty but you’ll find a way to swap. And luckily, Damian doesn’t call your bluff.

“Fine. I shall join the art club. I suppose it is only fair that I do something uncomfortable as well.”

You have no idea what Damian is talking about but he’s joining the art club so that’s a win for you. He’s putting himself out there socially and that’s all you can hope for. The bell rings and Damian packs up his things, leaving you to get ready for your next class. 

By the end of the day you were still thinking about how much you hated Jason. It’s not like he was the only thing on your mind though. In all honesty the only thing you had learnt from the earlier half of your conversation with Damian is that you were acting like a 14 year old. Not to say neither of your grievances were invalid but you suppose you should maybe give Todd slightly more grace than you do currently. Especially if he already has one enemy in Damian. You think back to the incident this morning. Maybe it really was an accident. Sometimes projects and classes over run. You have to be flexible in teaching. You gather your materials together when the bell rings and your last class rushes out the door. 

“For those of you coming on the trip on Saturday, meet outside the school bright and early!” You call, “The coach leaves at 8.30!”

You sit back down and stretch your arms out as you log into your emails, sending one to the maths teacher asking to switch to her lunchtime duty on Tuesdays. She replies yes and you smile in success. Plan ‘help Damian make friends’ has finished stage one. Wonderful! Scanning the latest reminder from your principal, someone knocks at the door, drawing your attention away. You figure it might be Janice, one of the cleaners or Alejandro the receptionist. “Come in.” you say, and turn back to your emails.

“Where’s good to start setting up?” You would recognise that grating voice in a heartbeat. Jason Todd. You swivel so fast in your chair you almost fall out of it. 

“What are you doing here?” You try to sound as neutral and as unaffected by his very presence as possible. 

“Parents' evening. We’re sharing a classroom. The email went out three weeks ago and a reminder today?” You turn back to the monitor. The last unread email. Damn. You’d agreed to share a classroom when you were still on good terms. 

“I must’ve missed it. I’m ready to start setting up right now.” You smile through gritted teeth.

You were so wrong about giving grace. That man has done nothing but step on your toes all afternoon. That display should be changed, these books should be out, example essays from each subject should have no overlap. And the worst part is that he was right on most counts. But you don’t take lightly to being ordered around by a man who does nothing but infuriate you. In less than an hour the parents will be walking into your room and judging you and the school and you again and Jason still isn’t back. He better be in the toilet having a case of explosive diarrhoea or so help him god, the principal will have to scrape his remains off the teacher car park. It’s been 20 minutes. You suppose the classroom is prepped and ready for the parents so you could just wait anxiously by yourself. You suppose nothing was tethering him here when the displays were done as long as he made it back before the parents. You suppose he wouldn’t want to spend time with someone who had become so hostile and jagged towards him. Maybe he was talking with some of the other teachers, you reasoned. He hadn’t abandoned you again. Not after the promises about turning up and being here. And certainly not after the principal’s second reminder email that seemed more like a warning. Perhaps you should go see if any other teachers needed help last minute as well. To keep your mind busy and away from the failure Jason was setting you up for. You lock your classroom and walk towards the art room.

Jason was running late again. Dick had called in an SOS and he was closest. And to make up for it he figured it wouldn’t matter if he stopped to grab a coffee for you each as a peace offering. He did enjoy your company after all. He knew that your iciness these past few weeks had been well deserved. He didn’t mean to miss all the cataloguing but it was a particularly active week for Black Mask and Penguin and then the week after that he was recovering from a stab wound he’d gotten during a routine drug bust. Getting a second job had taken some getting used to. So he could hardly blame you for your hostility. He knew he deserved it. So in order to make amends, he grabbed you a drink from the cafe two blocks from the school before he joined you in your classroom, ready for parents evening. He signed back into the office before catching a glimpse at the time. Shit. You were going to be so angry if he was late again. So he sprinted like a madman, ignoring all his very new teacher instincts about running in corridors. As Jason rushed towards your classroom he didn't notice the art room door open and you step out, waving goodbye to Ms Song. 

The apology coffee ended up all over you. Seeping through your sweater and your shirt. Your nice, white shirt, ironed and pressed for parents' evening. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to-” Jason starts.

“It's okay Jason, really.” You swallow and turn to keep walking to your class. You were trying not to lose it. Not to cry or yell, when parents could walk through the door at any moment. Jason trailed behind you. When you walk into your classroom he calls your name. 

“What?” You snap. You have run out of patience and out of grace for him. He takes off his knit jumper, passing it to you.

“It’ll help cover the stain.”

“It’ll be weird though won’t it?” You question, eyebrow raised. You knew exactly what the staff room would sound like on Monday if anyone saw you. 

“Is that worse than letting the principal see you talking to parents covered in coffee?”

You don’t reply. He was right, per usual. You take the jumper, unenthusiastically and pull it on. It smells like him. Not that it would mean anything to you of course, it’s just a smell. It has absolutely zero effect on you. Jason was also not faring too well. Seeing you in his jumper was quite endearing. But it had no effect on him either. Everyone looked good in knit. Thankfully, you both hear the parents walking around the corridors and are able to break the awkwardness. 

“Ready to go?” He asks.

“People will like history way better than English.” You promise in response, looking at your display on ancient civilisations, matching your 9th grade class’s current topic. The bright colours and big posters were sure to catch everyone’s eyes.

Jason smirks, “More people like Shakespeare than you think.” He references his own display: a large, badly drawn, picture of Shakespeare with literary technique thought bubbles surrounding him. You roll your eyes, desperately trying to stop any trace of a smile. You were still angry at him. But right now, the parents need your attention.

The two of you finally finished the evening. It had been taxing, no thanks to your revived rivalry. You spent the entire evening one-upping each other to parents, as subtle as possible of course. When the principal had checked in on your pair, you were sweet as saints. No matter how much you disliked the man, even you couldn't deny how well you worked together. He apologised multiple times about the coffee. He really did feel bad about it all. The spill really was an accident. He also apologised for his flakiness, but gave no explanation as to why he had abandoned you for weeks on end. You found no reasonable explanation incredibly hard to believe. So you still didn’t trust him. 

When the final parents left and the two of you began the tedious task of tidying, you walked up to him. “Just because we’ve worked well together tonight does not mean I forgive you. I know you’ve said sorry but until you prove it I don’t believe you.” You used your teacher voice but kept it low enough that the few listening ears wouldn’t have the chance for any gossip. Jason nods, gulping. You continue to work in silence. When the two of you finished packing everything away, highly efficiently you might add, you knew you ought to talk to Jason about Damian. No matter how much his brother disliked him, you knew you needed to talk to him about Damian. You wanted his family to encourage his creativity as both an outlet and a means to relax and socialise. You casually leant against a desk and spoke up. 

“This might be too personal-” Jason perked up at your voice. “-but I was wondering if you could ask your family to encourage Damian’s art and creativity. I’m aware he doesn’t really have many friends-” Jason scoffs and you stare him down. He was a grown man. He needed to act like one.

Jason breaks the silence, “He has one friend, Jon. He lives in Metropolis. They see each other pretty regularly.” Jason shrugs. “Does he really need more?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You need to think like a teacher. Stop looking at him like your kid brother and see him as a child having trouble connecting with his peers. I want him to have someone to talk to while at school. Someone who is not me. And not you.” You add, even though you know Damian likely ignores his entire existence. “I’ve asked him to join the art club and go on Tuesday lunchtimes. I’m sure Ms Song has told you about how talented he is.”

“She hasn’t. You’re the only teacher who knows we’re related.” Jason shrugs again. His nonchalance was getting on your nerves. 

“What?”

“The school board and principal know, obviously. But we thought it would be better that his peers didn’t. We didn’t want him being accused of favouritism.” You suppose that makes sense. That could have isolated him further. Jason stepped towards you. “And you only know because of your bitching sessions.” Your eyes widen. “Yeah I know about those.” Jason taunts. 

This man. The nerve! And after you had graciously half-forgiven him. Surely Damian had not spilled the beans to his asshole brother. No. Jason probably found out by spying or some very nefarious plot. Why would he care anyway? Everyone else at this stupid school adored him. You were indulging his kid brother and helping him talk about his feelings. You were not in the wrong here. Jason was. And he was also far too close to you now. You don’t even know when he got so close. So close to one another that you could see every freckle. Every scar. Every pore on his gorgeous face. You were too close. And you knew you were flushing. You felt so hot. FROM REVITALISED LOATHING AND HATRED OF COURSE. Not from embarrassment. Or any other emotion. You steel your eyes. He would not know how much he affected you. Stupid smirking men do not get to win. You stand up straight and look him eye to eye. “Encourage Damian’s creativity. Your brother deserves more friends.” You dodge past Jason and grab your bag from under your desk. You motion for him to grab his shit. He does so and walks out, heading straight for the office to leave. Allowing you to lock up your classroom by yourself, in the empty school, not thinking about how close the two of you had been. Never thinking about his eyes or his hair or his lips. Peeling off his jumper and staring down the ugly brown coffee stain on your shirt, only thinking about the ways Jason had wronged you.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[sweetchillipeppers]

DAINTY CHAINS | pattern 01.

──────── ⵌ NEUTRALS ...

──────── ⵌ RAINBOW ...

debating on whether or not to make more of these. but for now, here is the first set.

patterns : 001 / 002 / 003 / 004

feel free to use; please like, reblog, and credit〜

support me through ko-fi | more dividers →

[sweetchillipeppers]

Welcome to my vegetable patch!

Hi everyone, I'm Chilli (She/Her)! I write fanfiction whenever inspiration strikes me. The current love of my life is Jason Todd (DC). This will be extended to Clark Kent (also DC) when the new movie comes out in summer!!!!

Come into my asks, anons are welcome. I'm a yapper please talk to me.

At the moment I'm writing Jason Todd x Reader, this may be extended to Dick Grayson x Reader,, and potentially the rest of the Batfam (no romance with Damian) and Superman too.

No NSFW: I am an adult and so some of my fics may have adult themes. I will not be writing any smut and don't want to see it in my asks/inbox/requests either.

Minors: You are welcome to read and interact with my fics and are welcome in my ask box. Do not DM me though. However, there is the potential that I may write or reblog 18+ content. Minors DNI with fics that have been marked as explicit. This includes blank/ageless blogs.

Requests: Open, but be aware I have a busy life

Please do not copy or repost onto other sites. Do not train AI with my work.

I think that's everything!

Ao3 Link

Masterlist

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[sweetchillipeppers]

Masterlist

DC

Jason Todd

Teacher AU Pt1 Pt2

More coming soon

Ao3 Link

Dividers by @/cafekitsune