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on-leatheredwings · 1 month

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Remedial Lesson (18+)

Yandere ! Dick Grayson x (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, 18+ > request: non-con for dick grayson? maybe him abusing his power as the titans leader to be a little flirty/touchy with reader before tricking them into letting him inside of their bedroom under false pretenses? > tw/cw: explicit non-con, baby trapping, yandere behaviors, abusive power dynamic > a/n: i just love writing a manipulative dick! And i love writing a manipulative Dick! (ba dum tss) emphasis on non-con in tw's, its not dubcon! > word count: 2545

Stupid, stupid.

At that thought, the logical, respectable half of your brain admonishes you.

You aren’t stupid. You just were unlucky, you correct softly. You’re plenty capable, and an asset to the team. It could’ve happened to anybody.

Recently, you’ve been trying to stop your self-deprecation, in an attempt to bolster your self-esteem, solidify your confidence, and quell negative self-talk.

… Therapist’s orders.

Being the ever-so-capable superhero you are, today you got blasted by some hypnotizing ray. And then promptly went on a murderous rampage on your teammates.

You don’t recall anything that happened, only waking up from what felt like a deep sleep to the outstretched hand of Nightwing. Koriand’r told you on the way back to the Tower that you almost killed him – making you stiffen in horror. You almost killed him, and apparently the only thing he had been worried about was you. At the thought, you feel heat swarm in your cheeks.

Despite not having any powers, Nightwing is plenty formidable. You were in complete awe of him today; the way he moves is so effortless, and he’s not even a metahuman.

You clench your fist with determination. You aren’t a metahuman either, but you pale in comparison to him. You want to be just as formidable as he is. Be just as deserving of the title “Titan.”

On the subject of Nightwing, your mind wanders… He had been quite… hands-on with you today. Shaking you by the shoulders, hand on your cheeks lightly slapping you awake. Encouraging you back to your feet, hand brushing your waist. When the battle was over, you nearly collapsed to your knees, spent. But he caught you, appearing from out of nowhere.

“Easy,” he had said into your ear, which made you shiver.

You sigh.

Okay. So maybe you had a crush. It wasn’t like you were going to do anything about it. He’s your boss – the Titans’ illustrious captain. He was simply helping you along, watching out for a teammate. Mentoring a new hero. After all, you are the Titans’ newest recruit, a post that months later still feels unreal.

You walk amongst them through the doors of the Tower, conversation and chatter flowing around you. You don’t join in, still ashamed from today’s blunder. How many of them had you tried to hurt? The team has just finished a mission, and it seems a pizza party is in order for tonight. You smile gingerly as Garfield announces vibrantly that you’re invited. (A no-brainer to anyone else since you literally live here, but to you, it means a lot.)

Your secret identity known to the team, you dismiss yourself to change out of your suit and into your civvies. “Hurry back soon,” they say, and the sentiment warms you. You indeed jog to your bedroom, eager to return to the festivities. You’re one of them. You’re really one of them.

You slip into your room, tossing the door back without a second glance. Your fingers pull on the bottom of your shirt. You’re about to peel off your suit, when you hear a shallow thud. That was not the sound your door makes once it's been closed.

You whip around, and see–

“Nightwing?”

Your leader stands in the doorway, foot acting as an impromptu door stopper. You take him in. His hair cascades in gentle dark waves, curling by the ears. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his suit was painted on. Despite being lightly armored and fortified, it stretches across his body like plastic wrap. You could trace every muscle under his skin– okay, relax. Christ.

Hey, you think back, mentally wagging a finger. No thought policing.

At the sound of your name being called, you realize you’ve been gawking like an idiot while he stands in your doorframe. You straighten.

“Oh! Y-yes!?”

“Can I come in?” he asks. You nod so fervently that your head is a blur of color.

Nightwing does so, the slightest amicable smile on his lips. Around friends and allies, it seems to be a default expression of his. Still, you’ve spent enough time around him to note that he looks quite… serious. Concerned.

“... Is there anything I can do for you?” you ask, eager to rectify whatever was upsetting him. You so want to impress him. Badly.

He holds up his hands, as if saying, At ease. “All you can do for me is let me know that you’re alright.”

You offer a pitiable smile, warmth swirling in your chest. “I am. Thanks for asking– and I’m so, so sorry about today–”

Nightwing waves you off, approaching you. He places a hand on your shoulder in consolation. “Hey, it could’ve–”

“--Happened to anyone,” you finish, nodding. You look down.

“... Although I admit…”

Your head snaps to attention. “Yes?”

Nightwing then sighs. His gaze falls to the floor. He tuts and shakes his head as if troubled. You swallow drily. So focused on him, you don’t even notice the circles his thumb kneads into your shoulder.

“Your performance today.” Your throat clenches. Nightwing’s gaze returns to you, hard and critical behind his mask. “Well, frankly, it left much to be desired.”

Your heart plummets, hitting the pit of your stomach. You’re mortified. You haven’t been meeting his standards? Did everyone else think that? Were their hopes misplaced? You feel the thrum of anxiety jitter underneath your skin as you bow your head. Your gaze now captures the two feet keeping you upright.

There’s a stroke to your cheek, to which you flinch.

“Hey.” Your head whips up. You look up at him, into white lenses that have the ghost of his eyes behind them. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.”

His face is gentle and consoling. You exhale. He’s just being honest, you think. He’s just being honest. Nothing wrong with some constructive criticism. You let him sit you down on the edge of your bed.

“H-how can I improve?” you ask, voice croaking. “I know I fucked up today. I should’ve seen it coming. I’m so, so sorry if I hurt you or anybody else–”

“Hey,” he says again, soft and delicately. “Listen, it’s alright. I’m going to teach you some things. How to resist better.”

You nod, slowly, anticipating some verbal advice.

You watch him with anticipation, giving him your full attention– and then, he kneels before you. You instinctively feel alarm at the increased proximity, before you swat it down. His head is level with your lower abdomen, uncomfortably close to your lap. You don’t have to make it weird, you scoff at yourself.

“... Y-yes?” you say.

“I’m going to take off your pants.”

You stare.

Did you hear him right? Was he… joking?

Clearly not. His hands land on your thighs, effectively drawing a sharp inhale from you. You both lock eyes. His face still holds the same vaguely amicable grin, but it’s now a leer. Your heart quickens. You don’t feel right.

“... Nightwing?” you ask, feeling suddenly quite small. You don’t know what’s happening. What’s going on?

“You need to be able to withstand a lot more than you currently can,” he continues, talking as casually as if you’re speaking about the weather. You are shell shocked, frozen into submission at the touch of his hands pulling your pants off. His nails scrape along your skin when he has to use more force to jerk it free from under your ass, to which you still don’t react.

What’s going on? your mind cycles on loop.

It’s when he pulls down your underwear you finally jolt, clumsily kicking at him. Which he catches of course. What a poor move, because your kick only enables him to spread your legs at his leisure. Heat rages to your cheeks. Though not entirely off, your panties do a pitiful job of concealing the tangle of hair nestled between your thighs. The mortification racing through your bloodstream makes you croak. It makes you keep throwing kicks and swats and punches until Nightwing is forced to sandwich your body against your bed. He pins your hands down to the bed, and you know by now it’s a lost cause.

“Help–” you begin, but Nightwing adeptly slips your wrists into one hand, and uses the other to silence you. He smiles bashfully, as if he hadn’t just stripped you without consent or fanfare.

“This is all for you–” At the furrow of your brow, he says, indignantly, “I’m serious! How easy was it for that guy to hypnotize you today?” The question throws a knife into your heart. “Or when last week you were apprehended? Or the week before that?” Each instance makes the burning building in your eyes more and more unbearable. He isn't wrong. Your tears build. He’s not wrong.

Nightwing slowly removes his hand off your mouth, anticipating another yell. You squirm, but don’t make a sound aside from shuddering breaths.

His grin loses all its flirty qualities. It widens, self-satisfied and predatory. With his teeth he peels off his free hand’s glove, slides it down your torso to the apex between your thighs.

“No,” you whimper, to which he hushes you, lips by the shell of your ear for the second time today. His fingers explore without warning, tracing your labia and brushing against your clit. You gasp, but you don’t scream.

Nightwing tuts, shaking his head. “You’re already wet, I see.”

You tremble, filled with humiliation. “No, I’m not.” One digit delves deeper, experimentally. You grit your teeth.

“You want this,” he says, and you fill with dread at the condescension of his tone. Like this was expected. Like you had so much to learn.

“No, I don’t.”

“But you do. You’re telling me you do.” His fingers – the pair that when gloved, there would’ve been two cobalt blue stripes – scissor inside you, and your breath hitches. “Your body’s telling me you do.”

“I-it’s a biological response.” At the feeling of his fingers swimming inside you, you whimper. This is insane. It can’t be happening. Yet you jerk and twitch with each of his motions. “P-please, I would… Please stop, now…” He doesn’t, pumping his sinful fingers into you. Teases you by dragging them out.

You throw your head back, biting your lip. He’s panting into your ear – you’d think you were doing something to him, the way he sounds. Your overhead light beams into your gaze, dizzying. It burns, so you close your eyes, hoping this is some humiliating dream. This can’t be real. This can’t be real.

“So you say– Hey.” He nips at your ear and you stir. “Look at me. Look at me.” You do so, and find him staring up at you. His mask is not enough of a barrier. Even if you can’t see them, you know his eyes are scraping over you, peeling your skin back, seeing you whole. Your embarrassment, your weakness, your shame.

“Please stop,” you whisper, eyes stinging. Your thighs tremble, to which he places his free hand on them to steady them. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. You’re teammates. He’s your captain.

Nightwing sighs, looking disappointed. Oh no, your mind spirals. He’s disappointed in you. Despite you being desperately uncomfortable– violated– he’s at fault– he’s the one doing something wrong–

Despite your logical brain asserting itself, you are flooded with a tidal wave of anxiety.

“That’s not good, you know,” he says, and he looks mournful. “Whining is just what they want to hear.” His fingers disappear from your body, and their absence leaves you in shock. Wanting.

Wanting? Do I want this? you think.

Nightwing is reaching behind his neck, tugging and pulling. Before you know it, he’s bare-chested. You don’t marvel at his body, like you would have just an hour before.

“Bad guys aren’t going to listen to you just because you beg.” A tear slips down your face. You swipe at it, but not quick enough for him to miss it. “And they won’t care if you cry… Maybe you don’t need to learn how to resist. You’re not cut out for it, I think,” he tsks. “Maybe, you need to learn how to endure.”

You feel something blunt and wet prod at your entrance, and that’s when the last remains of your primal fight-or-flight instincts kick in. You start to squirm, back arching off the bed. “Please, please, please– no– stop– I don’t want this–” His hand clamps down on your mouth once more, and hard. You push him with all your might, but it’s not enough. You aren’t strong enough.

“Just the tip,” he whispers in the shell of your ear. Just the tip. You can handle at least that. Just the tip.

He repeats it for himself, not you. This you realize as he enters anyway, despite your teary complaints. It is not just the tip; he bottoms out. “You can handle this. I know you can.”

You’re so confused. You’re so, so confused. You merely clench your eyes shut, nodding at his encouragement. You don’t know what else to do.

“I know, I know,” he comforts. “Don’t worry, you’re taking it really well. You take it perfect.” You cling onto his words of reassurance, no matter how twisted it feels. It’s the only anchor you’ve got. Each thrust makes you see stars behind your eyelids, bed rocking. The ding of your bed frame hitting the wall is enough to make you finally quiet. The last thing you want is for the others to hear. To walk in and see you utterly helpless. Powerless. Incapable.

You swallow your sobs, but let the tears stream freely.

“It’d be better if I just got you pregnant right now.”

You feel a cold knife of fear pierce your chest. He can’t. He can’t. You wouldn’t be able to be a hero anymore.

“You’d be better suited for it,” he hums. You can tell he’s near, his hips snapping more frenetically, his words cut off with his own moans. You’re ashamed to admit moans of your own may have slipped out. You don’t even bother resisting at this point, hoping that if not your strength, then your body can satisfy him. Hoping at least that your body will meet his standards.

“Fuck,” you hear, and not a moment later you feel him shoot ropes of cum into your cunt. You can feel both his cock that throbs with each spray and the warmth spreading into you. You don’t know why you’re shocked at the sensation – it wasn’t as if he seemed keen on using a condom. Nightwing’s hands release you, having gripped you so hard you’re sure you’ve bruised.

He dots sweet kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your cheek. It should be all very sweet, but you can't ignore the poison of the circumstance. “You did so good, you did perfect,” are amongst the accolades he whispers into your clammy skin. You nod weakly, letting him kiss your tears away.

Nightwing dives in for a kiss, desperate to take even more than you’ve already given him. You return it, heart palpitating. You bat away the negative thoughts that threaten to swarm your mind whole. No more negative self-talk, after all. No self-deprecation. It’s okay. You took it well. You endured, like he said.

You did perfect.

#yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #mine #tw baby trapping #tw noncon

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clockwayswrites · 6 months

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City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 8

WC: 897, Masterpost

Danny plucked at the hem on the sleeve of the too large hoodie that he was wearing. He would make a hole in it if he wasn’t careful, he knew that. He knew that he should stop, but he felt as if he stopped he might vibrate out of his skin instead.

Or, worse, change back to his human form.

It was just that… he felt good. He was rested. He could have slept more, it was like he always wanted to sleep these days, but the need to sleep just wasn’t pulling endlessly at him. He was full, too. He didn’t expect it to last long, Hood and Nightwing were talking about make him eat every hour, as if eating every day wasn’t already unheard of. Danny had almost broken down in grateful tears as they were explaining things to him. Maybe best of all he was clean. He had been able to take a real shower for as long as he needed and he had cried then, but at least it was in the shower so no one noticed.

He was good at crying silently these days.

Now they were in a nondescript car headed somewhere else. Danny felt he should be nervous at that; he was pretty sure that the two heroes had expected him to be, but Danny couldn’t find it in himself to worry. They given him somewhere to sleep and shower and fed him— were talking about feeding him again even as they drove. Wherever they were talking him, Danny was pretty it was going to be better than the lab. They kept trying to reassure him though.

It was a nicer building. He had been in a basement. It would be quieter. The machines and their noises never stopped. Danny got used to the white noise of it. It had two bedrooms. He had lived in a box too small to stretch out his legs in. It had good light. Danny had forgotten how nice it was to just feel the sun on his skin. He leaned over and rested his cheek against the cool glass of the car window.

“It actually has a tv and gaming system. I bet Red would love to play with you, Kid.”

“Danny.”

It was like the air had gone out of the car.

Danny scraped at the ribbed line of fabric with his too long nail. He felt it catch.

Then someone let out a huff of air. “Danny then. Got some books too or we can give you a tablet to read on.”

“Not everyone is a book worm like you, Hood,” Nightwing teased.

Hood flicked the other off in such a casual motion that it made Danny’s lips twitch in the start of a smile. It was nice to see people just interacting like that. To see people just… being people. It was nice to remember that not everyone were like… like them.

“Danny.”

“What?” Danny looked towards the front of the car. They were moving slowly inside of some sort of parking garage.

“You with us?” Nightwing asked. He had turned around in his seat to look at Danny. The skin around the top of his mask was furrowed in concern.

“Yeah. Sorry I just…” Danny shook his head and looked around where they were again. The concrete walls felt too close, too familiar. His finger caught on the hole he had started to pick in the sleeve of the hoodie. “It… are we going to be down here long?”

“Hey, no. I’m going to crawl back there with you, okay?” Nightwing said as he undid his seatbelt. He twisted himself to crawl into the back of the car with ease. Both of the heroes had changed into clothing like what Danny was in that morning. It was an odd contrast with the masks still on, but it was nice. “We’re going to drive into a spot right through there behind those doors and then go up an elevator. We just have to park.”

Nightwing rested his hand over Danny’s fidgeting one. Danny flinched and Nightwing pulled away.

“I’m sorry about the hoodie. I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, no, it’s alright Danny. It’s just a hoodie. Red pulls at the bottoms of all them and Spoiler chews on the aglets. Hood stretches out any of them that aren’t his.”

“Not my fault you’re all so damn small,” Hood said smugly as he waited for the metal door to roll up.

Somehow Danny was sure Nightwing was rolling his eyes. “I just thought you might… I thought touch might help? If you ever want a hug or anything—”

The rest of Nightwing’s words were knocked out of him as Danny basically flung himself into into the hero’s arms. Danny felt himself start to shake as Nightwing held him back. “It’s okay, Danny. I have you. You can have hugs whenever you need them.”

Bruce’s tablet chimed with back to back notifications and he switched over to the family chat immediately.

The first message was from Jason: a picture of Dick lounging on the couch of the new safe house. Draped across him was the newest Wayne, white hair wild but his face more at peace than Bruce had seen in any of the other photos.

The next message was from Dick: his name is Danny.

Danny. His son’s name was Danny.

---

AN: A shorter part, but such great progress for Danny! They know his name! He got hugs!

I no longer tag but you can subscribe to the masterpost!

#dp x dc #city pigeons #batpham #trauma tuesday #with not much trauma

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zylev-blog · 2 months

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Batman, pre identity reveal goes to the Watchtower for some buisness. Dick is going through a phase, and insists to come with him, but only hanging to his leg like a koala. He relents, his cape is big enough to cover him, after all.

Later, Flash comes up to him. “Hey, can you take a look at this?”

He reaches his hand out through his cape, exposing Dick as Robin for Flash to see.

“Is that a child?” Flash asked.

“Hrrn.” He grunts.

“Hi!” Dick grins, wide and feral.

After that, it becomes tradition for every few years, Batman hid children under his cape. He simply rolled his eyes as every single one of his children cling to his legs, stomach, and arms like koalas. It was weight training. Nothing was going on. He certainly didn’t want to listen to them complaining later on.

A few years after the first incident, Green Lantern came up to him to ask him something. Only to hear a snicker from Batman’s cape. GL tried to ignore it. He really did. But after a while, the snickers became quiet laughter, and GL could swear he heard “uno.”

So GL pulls back the cape. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin, and Spoiler were under the cape. Each one had uno cards in their hand and looked very annoyed at GL’s interruption.

“Do you mind?” Nightwing asked.

“I knew we shouldn’t have left Signal and Black Bat at home.” Orphan complained.

“Black Bat almost gave Superman a heart attack last time she came with us.” Nightwing pointed out.

“Tt. Signal is too bright to hide under the cape.” Robin added.

“You have a problem, Batman.” Green Lantern looked at the Bat.

“The only problem he has is annoying green turds disrupting our game.” Red hood grabbed the cape and dropped it back over them, and the shuffling of cards could just barely be heard.

#Batman #flash #the flash #green lantern #Nightwing #red hood #Red Robin #Robin #spoiler #Batman’s cape #batman hides a bunch of children under his vape #he doesn’t see an issue with this #it’s normal to the kids

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froggibus · 10 months

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Hi!

I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if I could request the Batboys with an s/o who passes out from a fever.

I hope you’re doing well!!

Passing Out From A Fever - Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake and Wally West x gn! reader (separately)

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: your s/o reacting to you passing out from a fever

Word Count: 1.2k (Dick's), 1k (Jason's), 1.1k (Tim's), 1.1k (Wally's)

CW: sickness/the flu, minor injuries, reader is stubborn and refuses to rest, fainting, established relationship? gn reader but Wally refers to you as a 'damsel in distress', violence + drugs/drug dealers (Jason's) lmk if i missed anything

okok so sorry anon this request is almost 4 months old lmfao. i got a little sidetracked doing other stuff for a while but it is finally here. hope you enjoy it despite how delayed it is

Dick

Dick looks at the numbers on the digital thermometer with a sigh. “Your temperature’s only going up.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You try to joke but your whole body aches, your skin is feverish and clammy, and your head spins every time you open your eyes.

He looks at you seriously, giving you the signature Dick Grayson disappointed older brother, team leader look.

“I take it no patrol tonight?”

He rests his hand on your thigh. “Not a chance in hell.”

“I figured as much,” you grumble.

“I’ll stay in with you tonight,” he insists, giving your leg a squeeze. “We can watch a movie or something. I’ll even let you choose.”

You let out a deep breath, leaning back and resting your head against your cold bed frame. His offer is tempting—it's not often he stays home during the evening. “Okay,” you nod your head slowly. “We’ll stay in tonight.”

He beams at your decision, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead before jumping up and leaving you in your bed. “I’ll be back in an hour, alright?”

You offer a weak thumbs up before relaxing back into your nest of blankets and pillows. It won’t hurt to sleep a little while he’s out, and you are pretty tired.

—

You wake up hours later, Dick nowhere to be seen. Your whole body feels like it’s been set on fire and beat with a baseball bat, but you still struggle out of bed to go find your boyfriend. Of course, he’s nowhere to be seen.

You narrow your eyes, a sinking feeling in your chest because you know exactly where he is. Your hunch is proved right when you open the closet door with shaky hands and see the empty hanger where the Nightwing costume should be.

What happened to staying in tonight? No patrol?

The thought of him leaving you while you feel this sick lights a fuse in your chest, and before you know it, you’re lazily tugging your own suit over your limbs. The suit only makes you feel hotter, your muscles aching in protest, but you need to see him.

By some miracle, you manage to stumble your way across Gotham in the dead of night while dealing with an extremely high fever and body aches.

Still, your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. You followed the trail of beaten thugs and failed robberies straight to the centre of the city, but Nightwing wasn’t there. You feel slightly woozy, your knees shaking below you.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket and you take it out, the writing blurry on the small glowing screen. You squint but the letters spin on the screen, and you can’t seem to make them out.

In fact, when you look up from the screen, the whole world is spinning. Your head feels impossibly heavy, and suddenly your body is pitching forwards.

————

Dick knows he’s fucked when he gets home and you’re nowhere to be seen. He sees the open closet door and the empty hanger where your costume should’ve been, and groans.

If only he had just stayed home like he said. Guilt overwhelms him, but he swallows it back and forces himself to push through.

You shouldn’t even be out of bed, let alone roaming the city dressed as a vigilante. Dick cards his fingers through his hair and starts to make his way through the city again.

He assumes you were trying to find him, so he circles back through his usual patrol spots. The longer it takes to find you, the more anxious and guilty he feels.

It’s all his fault that you’re even in this mess, stumbling through the city sick and disoriented.

He finds you unconscious on a rooftop, tucked away in a corner, a small cut on your face from what he assumes was the impact. Seeing you like this makes his heart drop and for what feels like a thousand years, he watches you and waits for your chest to rise. He stares, holding his own breath until he finally sees your lungs inflate with air.

He’s scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back to the apartment in an instant, careful not to jostle you too much. He can feel your feverish skin through your costume, sweat pooling on your forehead and neck. He could set a record for how fast he had you home.

He changes you out of your suit and into comfortable pjs, patching up the mark on your face and tucking you into bed. He’s always taken care of his younger brothers so he knows just how to take care of you.

He puts an ice pack on your forehead to keep you from burning up too much and gets water and ginger ale for your nightstand. He knows you’ll need fluids and medicine when you wake up and he wants to be prepared.

Even after he’s prepared everything and double checked his, his nerves don’t settle. You’ve been out cold for at least an hour, with no sign of waking up. Another hour of this and he’ll have to take you to the hospital.

He paces the room, eyes never leaving your sleeping figure. Wake up, wake up, wake up. He tries to will you awake, hoping your eyes will open any second and you’ll berate him for leaving you.

“Dick..?”

His pacing comes to a stop, eyes snapping to yours. “Oh, thank god,” he kneels next to your side of the bed and takes your hand in his. “How’re you feeling?”

As if on cue, you groan in pain. The ice pack he placed on your forehead does little to help with the heat that’s ignited your whole body. Your eyes feel painfully heavy, and all of your muscles feel inflamed.

He holds a glass of water up to your lips, helping you tip your head back so you can drink some. He pops a couple pills into your mouth and pours some more water in to wash them down.

“They’ll probably take fifteen minutes to work,” he keeps his voice quiet. “You’ll feel a lot better soon though, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re all better.”

You nod weakly. “You—you left me…”

Dick’s heart breaks at the sound of your sad, weak voice. He was hoping you wouldn’t dwell on that too much, the reminder that his fuck up for you into this mess weighing heavily on him.

“I know, baby. And I’m so, so sorry. There was an emergency and I thought I could sneak out quick but,” he sighs and tugs on his hair. “I’m not gonna leave your side until you’re all better, okay? Never again.”

You’re too tired and sick to care for grovelling, you’re just glad he’s here and you don’t have to suffer alone. You reach a hand out to grab his hand and weakly tug him towards the bed.

Dick obliges, crawling in next to you and letting you rest on his chest. “I’m gonna make you all better, hm? You’ll be all better soon, hun.”

His soothing voice coupled with the circles he traces on your back are enough to keep you content until the medicine kicks in. Then, you’re drifting back to sleep in Dick’s arms, already feeling better from the turmoil of the day

Jason

You think Jason may be the most dense man on the planet. Unlike his father, his detective skills seriously need some work.

When you woke up this morning with a fever and aches, you were sure you could push through it. It’s just a little cold, or so you thought. As the day turned into night and you got ready for patrol, your symptoms only worsened.

Your body aches grew worse, your fever grew hotter and your movements got sluggish. Still, you brushed it off. You never miss patrol with Jason, and tonight wasn’t going to be a first.

“You’re off to a slow start,” he teases.

You would roll your eyes if you weren’t so tired. “Shut up. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

It’s a total lie, of course. And if he could see the swelling of your glassy eyes or touch your boiling skin, he would know otherwise. Lucky for you, the adrenaline rush Jason gets on patrol creates a kind of tunnel vision that allows him to completely overlook your symptoms.

You stumble a bit, having to brace yourself against one of the shipping containers. You’re glad Jason shot out all of the street lamps at the old dock, leaving you in perpetual darkness. A perfect cover to hide the pain you’re feeling.

You take a deep breath and groan, pushing off of the container and running to catch up with him. The friction only makes you hotter, the air being forced from your lungs. Your head spins and black spots crowd your vision, but you take a weak breath and force them away. Now is not the time to be weak.

Jason tilts his head at you, and you can feel his judging eyes from under the mask. “Seriously, are you okay? Did you get hurt or something?”

“Did you? You’re off your game too, Red.” You try to nudge him teasingly but it just sends a shockwave through your body, your head suddenly pounding.

He looks like he’s going to say something you don’t want to hear but you’re saved by the bell when an unlucky drug dealer stumbles into view. Jason is pouncing on him in a minute, leaving you to your thoughts.

His form gets blurrier the more you watch him fight, and you swear your arms and legs are growing heavier by the second. Your head lulls back and you worry for a minute that you’re going to pass out.

You manage to catch yourself, pinching your arms to keep yourself aware. It works, but only for a second. You have enough time to make eye contact with Jason before your eyes are rolling back and you’re dropping like a sack of potatoes.

—

Jason is freaking the fuck out. For a minute, he’s worried you’re injured—or worse. All he saw was your panicked expression before you dropped to the pavement. If he wasn’t so worried, he would have laughed at your lack of grace.

He makes quick work of the remaining drug dealers, tearing through them with all the anxiety he’s feeling. By the time he’s made it to you, your body is practically on fire. He flinched away at first, not expecting your skin to be as hot as it is.

“You idiot,” he lifts you into his arms, letting your head hang over his shoulder. “You should’ve just told me you were sick.”

He forces himself to keep his calm demeanour the whole way to the apartment. He doesn’t let himself worry until you’re both changed out of your patrol clothes and into normal, ordinary pyjamas.

He has you laid down in the passenger seat of his car, his foot pressing heavily on the gas the entire way to the hospital. He knows it’s just a fever, but you fainted. Something could be seriously wrong, and he can’t chance anything. Not with you.

—

You come to in the hospital, an IV in your arm. It takes a few blinks for you to take in your surroundings, but even then, it’s hard to keep your eyes open. Your throbbing headache does not mesh well with the fluorescent lights.

“Jason,” your voice is barely a whisper. “Did you take me to the hospital?”

“No shit,” he scoffs. “

You would laugh at his brazenness if you weren’t in so much pain. The scratchy cotton thread of the hospital blankets aren’t enough to keep you warm, and despite being covered in sweat, you’re shivering.

Jason sighs. “You’re an idiot, you know that? You could’ve just told me you were sick.”

“I-I—,” you can barely speak with how bad you’re shivering.

Jason’s heart hurts at the sight of you, and despite how frustrated he is with your antics, he climbs into the bed with you and lets you lay against his chest.

You relax into him, trying to sap his body heat. You know this can’t exactly be comfortable for him, especially considering you’re a million degrees, and it makes you appreciate it even more.

“You know, I thought about just tossing you in the harbour and calling it a day.”

You let out a weak laugh at that. “I’m sure you did.”

“Okay, maybe not,” he admits, “but if you ever do that to me again, you will be taking an impromptu swim.”

“As you wish, Jay.”

He kisses the top of your head, “get some rest, hm?”

You nod weakly, letting your body sag against his. Just as sleep begins to take you, you mumble, “I love you.”

Jason’s heart flutters at your words. “I love you too.”

Tim

Tim is such a hypocrite.

When he pushes himself to his absolute limit, staying up until he quite literally drops, it’s fine. But god forbid you try to push yourself even the slightest, or there’s hell to pay from your boyfriend.

“Tim, I’m fine,” you insist, narrowing glassy eyes on him.

He raises his eyebrows in annoyance. “You’re not fine, y/n. You’re burning up. You’re so congested you sound like a little kid. You need rest.”

“Rest, schmest. I’m coming with you.”

“Y/n, honey, love of my life…if you try to come with me, I will slip you Nyquil and you will take a nap.”

You maintain your glare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe I already have,” he shrugs, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “How was the tea I brought you earlier?”

Your eyes shoot wide and you scramble to inspect the now empty Wayne Enterprises mug. There’s no indication that it looks or smells different from any other tea. You look up again, ready to mock laugh at your boyfriend, but he’s no longer there.

“Fucking Timothy,” you shake your head.

He’s been trying to force you to get bed rest all day, refusing to even let you come with him to the grocery store. Sure, you have a fever and you’re congested and your head really hurts, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay in bed.

You toss the blankets onto the other side of his bed and struggle your way out of it. The air outside of his bed is cold, forcing goosebumps onto your arms, but you don’t care. You tug on one of Tim’s sweatshirts and stumble your way downstairs.

He’s gone when you get down there, the only semblance of human life being Alfred sitting at the kitchen table. He’s reading a newspaper, seemingly deep in thought, yet the minute you step towards the front door, he speaks.

“If you are trying to follow Master Timothy, I would advise against that.”

“I-I wasn’t…how did you know?”

He smiles at you, “Master Timothy expected you would try to follow him, and asked that I make sure you rest.”

“Damn you, Tim.”

“I’ve prepared some water in the kettle and there are blankets on the couch if you’d like to watch a tv show with me?”

“That sounds great, thank you,” you sigh, giving up and trudging your way to the couch.

You settle in under a blanket, leaning your head against the couch cushion. Alfred comes in a few minutes later with two glasses of tea and a bottle of medicine.

You thank the man and take a few pills and the mug of tea, swallow down the pills and set the tea on the nightstand.

Alfred turns on the TV and starts to play one of his English soap operas. The sounds all blur together and you fade in and out of consciousness, every once and a while snapping back to reality when you hear the door unlock.

Of course, a million people seem to come and go from Wayne Mansion and your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. Alfred has seemed to doze off as well, his eyes closed and head resting on the couch cushion behind him.

You stand up from the couch on shaky legs, discarding the blankets next to you. You feel dizzy and lightheaded as soon as you stand up but you persevere.

You’re not really sure where you’re going, all you know is that you want to see Tim and the first step is getting to the front door. You make it to the front entrance, and you’re only five feet from the door, but your whole body hurts so bad and you’re so tired and everything is so hot and cold.

You brace yourself on the wall, leaning your whole body weight on it. You blink a few times, trying to keep the black spots from spreading to your vision. Everything overheats, and your muscles start to weaken. Before you can take another step, your body is failing, and your vision is going black.

—

Tim comes home just in time to see you hit the floor. He drops his groceries onto the floor, not even closing the door behind him as he runs to your side.

“Y/n?” He presses a cold hand to your forehead, “y/n, wake up!”

He gently shakes your shoulders, willing you to wake up and be okay. His family all arrive at once, staring at the two of you on the floor.

“Why couldn’t you just stay in bed? Dummy.”

He slips his hands under your knees and arms, lifting you off the ground. Your skin is hot to the touch but you’re shivering, sweat rolling down your temples. He carries you back to his room, laying you down in the bed and covering you in blankets.

He knows rationally that you’ll be okay, that your body was just responding to the exertion you put it through today. But emotionally? He’s freaking out. He can’t help but wish he’d stayed home with you, taken care of you himself, laid in bed with you all day.

Tim tries to distract himself by bringing up water and medicine and a cold cloth for you, but it does little to calm his nerves. Every minute that it takes you to wake up, he only gets more and more anxious.

Finally, after almost two hours, your eyes flutter open. Your head is pounding and it’s hard to keep from falling back asleep, but you force yourself to stay awake.

“Tim?” You call out, your voice even raspier than before.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” he murmurs, getting up from his desk and kneeling at your side. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” you admit, tears threatening to spill. “Really bad.”

He hands you two pills and a glass of water. “Here, take these, okay?”

You struggle to swallow the pills and water but somehow manage. The pain in your body is enough to bring you to tears and you can only hope that the medicine will kick in soon.

Tim rubs your forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re burning up…”

“I—will you lay with me? I miss you…”

Tim can only oblige. You just look so cute and so vulnerable with your glassy eyes and clammy skin. He wouldn’t dare say no to you right now.

He kicks off his jeans and t-shirt, trading them for a pair of sweatpants before settling in next to you. He can feel your body heat even though he’s not touching you, and even though he wants to hold you, he’s not sure if he should.

“Are you hot or cold?” He asks.

“Cold.”

That’s all the answer he needs before he tugs you into his chest, holding your body gently to his. He places a small kiss on your forehead and makes a silent vow not to leave your side until you feel better.

Wally

“Are you sure you should be going on this mission?” Wally looks at you seriously.

“Yes. Why are you even asking?”

He presses a hand to your skin, recoiling when he feels how hot you are. “Jesus, you’re hot.”

“Well, hello to you too.” You roll your eyes.

“Y/n, you don’t look too good. I don’t think you should be coming along,” he looks at you with genuine concern. “You’re running real hot and that’s coming from me.”

“Wally, if I don’t come along, the whole mission is screwed.”

“I know, I know. You’re so stubborn,” he sighs. “Come along but the minute you start to feel worse, you tell me, alright?”

“Alright.”

He flashes you his signature grin, planting a kiss to your nose. He squeezes your shoulders once, before giving you a half assed salute and taking off at the speed of light.

You smile after him, but your smile fades once he’s out of sight. Your head is spinning and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. With the way your muscles are aching, you’re not sure if you’ll even be able to finish the mission.

Still, you have to try.

————

Going on this mission was a mistake.

It feels like every floor of the sinister science institute is filled with more and more baddies, tougher ones too. You were beat after the first floor, but now that you’re on the fifth, with three more to go, you’re not even sure if you’ll make it.

You can hear Wally up ahead, zooming back and forth and taking out any baddies in his way. You know he’s partly doing this for you—trying to clear the floor and make things easier on you. He’d asked you one more time before you entered the facility if you were feeling up to it, and after you insisted you were, he didn’t bother to argue.

You almost wish he did, though. Your head is spinning, everything hurts and everything is so hot and sweaty. You try to force yourself to stay awake, but even you know your movements are slow and sluggish and you’re a danger to all of your teammates.

Nightwing is somewhere behind you, insisting there’s an air duct he can sneak through to get to the main lab before they evacuate. A part of you wishes you’d gone with him. At least then you wouldn’t be stuck leaning against a wall, desperately trying to get your bearings.

You force yourself onto your feet, stumbling down the hall after Wally. You only make it a few steps before your muscles turn to jello and the black spots crowd your version.

You go limp, your mind retreating far, far away.

Wally turns around just in time to see you go limp, and he’s speeding down the hallway and catching you within a fraction of a second. He doesn’t give you the chance to hit the ground, his arms already under your knees and shoulders, ready to carry you to safety.

Your skin is hot to the touch, hotter than it was earlier. He shakes his head at you. He knew this was gonna happen. He knew you would push yourself too hard and end up getting yourself hurt.

He gets you out of the building and into the jet you and some of the other Titans had taken to get there. He hates the thought of leaving you there, but he knows you would never forgive him if he abandoned the team now.

Still, he only gets more and more anxious the longer the mission takes. The second Dick secures the samples he was looking for, Wally is taking off. He’s got you in his arms, speeding back towards your shared apartment.

He’s got you home in a matter of seconds, changing you into a pair of his boxers and one of his old t-shirts. He tucks your boiling body into bed, covering you with blankets up to your waist.

He doesn’t really know how to take care of someone when they're sick. Whenever he was sick as a kid, he would always just eat ice cream and play video games. That, or he would sneak out and go hang out with Dick or Connor.

But he knows you need more than ice cream and video games right now.

He decides on grabbing you water and digging through your cabinets to find any medicine that could possibly help. He tries to remember what his mom did for him when he was young, and all he can think of is a cold cloth on his forehead. Still, that’s better than leaving you there to boil to death.

He lays the cloth gently on your forehead, leaving your water and medicine on the nightstand for when you wake up.

He changes out of his suit, opting for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Of course, you’re wearing his favorite t-shirt, but this one will have to do. He settles into the bed next to you, turning on the tv. He tries to keep the volume and the brightness low.

After what seems like forever, you start to stir. Everything is too bright and hot when you open your eyes, and it has you squirming and crying. Wally is grabbing your hand as soon as you wake up, using his other hand to press the cold cloth into your forehead.

“Shhh, babe, it’s okay.”

You clench your eyes shut and shake your head. “E-everything hurts so bad!”

He reaches across you for the water and the medicine, holding the glass up to your lips so you can take a sip before popping the pills into your mouth. You gladly swallow them, relaxing slightly at the taste of water. Wally sets the glass on the nightstand, resting his hands on your thighs.

“I’m sorry for pushing myself so hard…I’m sorry that you had to clean up after me.”

“Aw baby,” he grins at you, but it’s not as wide and carefree as it usually is. “You know how much I love rescuing damsels in distress.”

Classic Wally, trying to make you laugh even when you feel like you’re on your deathbed. He rubs your thighs gently up and down, trying to soothe you.

“Did the mission at least go okay?”

He kisses you gently, “don’t you worry your pretty little head about the mission, okay?”

He goes to pull away but you weakly wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him to you. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you tightly.

“It’s okay baby,” he whispers. “Everything is gonna be okay. I love you so much.”

#dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake #wally west #wally west x reader #wally west x you #batfam x you #batboys #jason todd hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

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celaenaeiln · 6 months

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I literally can't take it anymore. I need to get this out of my system. This is a hate-rant about why almost every single thing Tom Taylor has written is wrong.

First and foremost is the bimbofication of Dick Grayson. Tom Taylor loves to write him like this idiot who doesn't think at all. Being cheerful does not mean being dumb.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

"You seem unusually contemplative"? All Dick does is contemplate!

Nightwing (1996) Issue #3

His mind is always running!

Nightwing (2011) Issue #13

Nightwing (2016) Issue #38

I just picked a random issue from all of these comics and in every single one of these, Dick's planning, thinking, and strategising constantly.

Tom Taylor literally treats him like he's stupid or something.

Also the degradation of his abilities

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

A vigilante for 20 years. Who has faced assassins, hitmen, psychos, surprise attacks, metas, and you're telling me he didn't know that a untrained kid snuck up and stole from him?

He forgot who he was, he didn't forget where he lived! Even when he was Ric Grayson, Dick had procedural memory. His battle instincts stayed with him.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #52

"Then...I didn't even know what I was doing. I took him down--took him apart in seconds."

This man is a vigilante machine when he was amnesic. Why the heck would Dick ever let his guard down?

His robin reference

Nightwing (2016) Issue #92

Even Bruce in Batman: Hush has said it-Dick was the best. His skills were the best of anyone he's witnessed which is one of the reasons why Bruce let him be Robin in the first place.

This scene is so wrong that there's a robin scene that came out before this in direct opposition of this Tom Taylor Shitshow.

Robin & Batman Issue #1

This was actually pre-robin. Bruce had him do a solo-trial run to see his skill before he made him Robin and this was the result. Compare that to Tom Taylor's scene and the result is humiliating. For Taylor.

Tom Taylor's version of trying to show that Dick loves the people comes off as him hating crime-fighting. RIP the whole Robin firing drama and Nightwing birth i guess.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #79

"We could have avoided all of this if we'd just stayed in and eaten kibble."

Nightwing (1996) Issue #3

Dick would rather die than stop crime-fighting. After Blockbuster's first attempt, his life was hanging on by a thread and he still continued crime fighting.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #91

After Blockbuster blew up his apartment, this is the single-minded determination Dick had to continue crime-fighting. This is him at one of the worst lows of his life but he refused to give up but now? He has everything and Dick wants to ignore the murder of a child to stay inside and eat kibble which - what the heck? I know he's seen as a happy character but him finding dog-food desirable is too far!

Also the idiocy of which Tom Taylor had Barbara calling the cops in Bludhaven for a stolen wallet. Newsflash! This isn't her first rodeo here.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #81

Nightwing (2016) Issue #24

Nightwing (2011) Issue #23

Given how Dick's easily defeated enhanced metas and "very good" fighters, him falling down the stairs is a little to absolutely impossible to believe.

Another thing I love about Dick that Tom Taylor deciminates is his grace. Dick is the most graceful person in DC. His balance easily matches Selina's enhanced cat powers.

But yet. You have.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #83

Nightwing (2011) Issue #23

yeah. okay.

Taylor's motorbike scenes of Dick make me so mad. The boy is a pro at crazy. It's one of his best traits because he does the wildest stunts and he pulls it off.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #93

Nightwing (1996) Issue #86

He lands on his feet. He grabbed a villain mid-air, crashed into a window, and was perfectly fine. Actually no, he's not fine because he's worried about his bike's paint job.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #24

He just sailed over a whole crowd of people and started kicking butt like what he just did wasn't extraordinary - which for him is just another tuesday.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #95

yeah, tell 'er Dick.

He doesn't need someone to hold his bike.

One of the worst things in Taylor's run is how Blockbuster went down. It suddenly reminded me of Selina's stupid ideology which is why I think I got so ticked off.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #96

Blockbusters' thugs loyalty to him isn't a make it or break it deal. He's one of strongest criminal organisations and the knowledge that he owns one of the worst prisons that he could easily put his underlings into would've instilled fear into his thugs, not freedom. Furthermore Blockbuster takes good care of his people that don't piss him off. He teamed up with Nightwing in the scarecrow era in Nightwing (2016) because someone was messing with his people. He's extremely intelligent and superstrong, and he's not just going to be brought down by the knowledge that he owns a prison. It's Bludhaven. If he didn't, then there would be something suspicious given that he runs the city. It's the way Taylor dumbs down Bludhaven's villains that gets to me. Imagine him writing Batman (2016). It's like saying, "yeah the Joker was just a little misguided but he found the right way again after a stern talking to by Batman."

Nightwing is a big name.

When Dick first came to Bludhaven, one of the police officers was like we don't want your crazy here or something. Also Bludhaven loves Nightwing. They want him.

So why is everyone pretending like they don't know who he is?

Nightwing (2016) Issue #90

The police, the citizens, the villains-all of them. Dick fought Brutale and beat the crap out of him way back in 1996 comic. He's a Bludhaven regular. Just because Dick forgot who he was doesn't mean anyone else forgot him. Amnesia doesn't work that way.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #54

A whole team of Nightwings were formed during Dick's amnesic period because of how badly he was needed and missed. It's almost like the Tom Taylor run is set in an alternate universe.

I ran out of image space but what the absolute fiddlesticks is up with Dick being scared to jump. It better be a manipulation tactic but at this point I think Tom Taylor doesn't even know that Dick is manipulative.

#dick grayson #nightwing #barbara gordon #batgirl #blockbuster #ric grayson #bludhaven #tom taylor #when's the next writer coming in

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sanguineterrain · 8 months

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I'm BEGGING for a continuation of the drabble where Reader breaks up with Jason

Thinking of him injured and alone after almost dying is killing me 😭

this got more serious than i intended lol but i hope you like it anon! finally there is resolution!

jason todd x gn!reader. tw jason almost dies, hints of self destructive behavior, guilt, communication (i am forcing the batboys to be good communicators!!!), injured jason, dick being the bestest goodest big brother.

pt 2 to this

****

It's extremely stupid for you to be out this late, but if you hadn't left tonight, you'd probably never leave. And you needed to leave. You can't sustain whatever you and Jason had.

Asking him to quit would've been unfair, and you know he won't do it. This city pulls him back in every time.

"Where ya headed?" the cab driver asks. He doesn't look too shady. He'll definitely overcharge you, but at this point, you don't care. You just want to go home.

"Gotham Heights." You don't give him the exact address, but someplace close enough.

It's begun to rain. You try not to think about how you just left Jason. You turned off your phone as soon as you closed the door; you know he's probably calling like crazy, but as soon as you answer, you'll go back.

And you can't.

You blink back tears. You can't keep watching him throw himself into worse and worse danger. Jason fights crime like he'd sooner let it kill him. One day, it will.

The car pulls up to a stoplight. You're dozing; it's nearly eleven o'clock after all.

Suddenly, something lands on the hood. You jump, heart dropping.

"What the fuck?!" the driver squawks.

Nightwing perches on the hood of the cab. He lightly taps the windshield.

"Evening. Mind pulling over?" he asks pleasantly. "I'm actually their designated driver tonight."

"Nightwing!" you snap, hot with anger. "Get off the car!"

"You shut off your phone and left," Dick says, those white lenses zeroed in on you. His tone is cutting. "He's losing his mind. You know we don't go dark."

You close your eyes briefly. "We almost lost him, 'Wing," you croak.

"So your instinct was to leave?"

"Alright, that's it! Get outta the car," the driver says, unlocking the doors. "Fuckin' crazies..."

Dick opens the door for you and tosses a roll of twenties on the seat. The cab speeds off. You wrap your arms around yourself as he guides you to the sidewalk.

Several emotions cross Dick's face, before he lands on one. Sympathy.

"What happened?" he asks softly.

Your face crumples. "He died, Dick."

"I know," he says, holding your elbow. "I was scared too. But he's okay. He's the toughest guy I know."

"How am I supposed to keep him alive?" you ask desperately. "I can't."

Dick frowns. "That's not your job. I wouldn't expect that of you, and I know Jason doesn't either. None of us do."

You press your palms to your eyes and start to cry for real.

"I just want him to be okay. Every time he goes out, I think it'll be the last time I see him. I love him too much to lose him, Dick."

Dick hums. "Have you told him this?"

You shrug, wiping your eyes with your hand. "Some of it. I-" You wince. "I yelled before I left. He was being so nonchalant about it, and I know it was so I wouldn't worry, but..."

"I know. He can be a real pinhead about some things, but Jason's on it when it counts. He loves you a lot, and I think he'd want to know you're feeling this way."

You rub your eyes so hard you see shapes. "I don't know, Dick. I don't know if I can tonight."

Dick sighs sadly. "Alright. Look, I'll take you home. But can you at least tell him you're okay? He called me up, terrified. Said he dreamt you were in an accident."

Nightmares. The guilt triples.

You turn on your phone. Ten missed calls and fifteen unread texts pop up.

[10:38pm] Baby please come back

At least text me you're okay

I messed up, and you can leave, but at least tell me you're safe

[10:42pm] I'm calling Dick

Sweetheart don't get into a car

[10:43pm] Please don't I have a bad feeling about it

Call me please

You sniffle and tap on Jason's contact. The phone rings once before he picks up.

"Baby? Hi, hi. God, fuck. Are you okay? Is Dick there?"

Jason sounds wrecked. His voice is raw like he's been crying. Tears start to build up in your own eyes.

"H-hey, Jay. Yeah, I'm okay. Dick is here."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have scared you. Shouldn't have been reckless. I won't do that again. I won't patrol alone anymore. I'll-I'll work with Batman again. I called him just now. Told him I'd be at the Cave next week."

"Jay, don't force yourself to work with Batman for me," you say, your stomach a pit. "I don't want you to do something that'll make you miserable."

It's been better, lately, Jason's relationship with his family. It's not perfect, but then again, you wouldn't expect a family that dresses up in Halloween costumes every night to fight crime to be perfect.

"It won't!" Jason says. "Look, B and I have our differences. That's for damn sure. But I'm not so mad about it these days. And I should be safer. You were right. I want to come home to you, sweetheart, I do. If that means working in a team, then I'll do it. I'll do whatever will make us both happy and safe."

You squeeze your eyes shut. "I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner, Jay. I should've been."

"Oh." Jason sounds heartbroken. You can imagine him running a rough hand through his hair right now, tearing through the strands. "No, no, no. Baby, my love, listen. I don't blame you for any of this. That's not your responsibility. It's my job to keep myself alive. And Leslie's, once in a while. But I don't expect that from you. Never from you."

It's quiet for several moments. Then Jason speaks again, tone timid.

"Have I... did I make you feel that way?"

"No, you didn't," you say, opening your eyes. "Not directly. But... I don't know, Jay, I've just felt like there's nothing holding you back some days. You fight like you're fighting something inside of you." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I don't want it to burn you out for good."

Not again, you don't say.

Dick bows his head, and suddenly, you're there, watching them lower Jason Todd's body into the ground.

"I won't let it," Jason whispers. "I won't. I'm sorry I did this to you. Made you feel like this. I only ever wanna be good for you. I'm-I'm trying to be good."

Your lip trembles. "I wanna come home, Jay."

Jason makes a desperate sound, like a wounded animal. "Please come home, baby. I don't want you to leave. Wanna hold you so bad."

"Okay." You nod at the phone and look at Dick. "Can you take me home?"

He smiles, small and hopeful. "Of course."

****

Jason nearly tears the door off of its hinges before you can knock. He's probably been listening for your footsteps all evening. Your throat tightens.

"Hi, baby, hi, hi," Jason says, bracing himself against the doorframe as he pulls you into a hug. "Missed you so much. Love you so much. I'll be better, it'll be better. I promise."

You kiss his shoulder and bury your face in his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat. A-live, a-live, a-live, it says.

"Thanks, Dickie," Jason murmurs into your skin.

"Sure thing, Little Wing," Dick says, and you think he might sound a little misty-eyed. Sentimental sap.

"Thanks, D," you say softly, and Dick squeezes your shoulder.

"Get some sleep, both of you."

"You first," Jason says, and Dick laughs on his way out.

You help Jason inside, tucked under his arm, and this time, he lets you guide him to the bed. He allows you removal of your shoes and jeans before tugging you in with him.

"I'll be better," he vows, and rolls you over so you're face-to-face. "I promise."

"I believe you," you say, thumb brushing over his salt-streaked cheek. "I'm sorry I went dark, sweetie."

He shakes his head. "'S okay. Well, I mean, it's not, but I understand. I just want you safe. And here. But only if you wanna be here. I won't force you."

"Of course I want to be here, Jay," you say, kissing his cheek. "There's no place I'd rather be. I just... I want us to live."

Jason swallows and nods.

"I'll live. I will. For both of us."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fanfiction #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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sleepyangelkami · 24 days

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WITHOUT HESITATION j.todd

☆ WORD COUNT - 3K

JASON TODD X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - jason, almost too late, realises that you're in immediate danger. when he finds you and your sister in a flipped car rigged to blow, he makes the impending decision to save you and not her, without hesitation.

☆ WARNINGS - blood, gore, injury, explosions, car crash, arguing, worry/anxiety, the joker, mention of alcohol consumption, main character death (not j. or r.), grief, crying, (6) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

jason had realised much too late what was going on.

his head had been torn while working on the case with dick. what was joker going to do next, who was the target? after all, he never did go out without a bang. and he was getting closer and closer to the people they loved.

it was just a matter of time.

he had to admit, during all of this he'd managed to push you away. unintentionally, of course. you two were getting into it almost every day now. though he had to agree that it was his own doing and not yours. he'd snap, you'd merely stare, wondering what was wrong with him.

didn't you see? by the end of the week, joker would have gotham painted red if they didn't figure out his next move soon enough.

this was why jason was thankful your sister had come for the weekend to take you away. your sister, ashley, worked a long while away from gotham and it wasn't often that she came to see you. when she did, she turned her nose up at the sight. she never was a lover of gotham.

jason supposed, neither were you.

but as much as you hated the crime that circled gotham, the dirt on the street, the injustice of the entire city, you still loved it dearly. it was where you'd grown up and you just couldn't bring yourself to leave. so, you got a paying job, lived in the smallest of apartments where you spent most of your time with your lover. and if you and jason weren't there, you were spending time at the manor, wrapped up in jason's black sheets while he recited the books that lay on his night stand.

the trip ashley was taking you to would last a total of two days, the friday she came and the saturday after. you wouldn't be heading home until that sunday evening.

he hoped by then that he would have the case sorted out and it was safe enough for you to come home.

often times, he wondered what he was doing as red hood. perhaps it wasn't worth it anymore, would it be better to just let it all go? batman and nightwing could save gotham. he and you could live a normal, mundane, happy life. then he'd look at you in the midst of reading, glancing down at your closed eyes and pretty pouty lips. then, he'd be reminded of why he did what he did. to make gotham a better place for you and one day, for his family.

"you all set?" he questioned, shutting the trunk after lifting all your bags into the car. you'd told him you could do it yourself but he only insisted. he'd done enough to you in the past few days, you deserved this at least.

"yes." you grinned up at him, sweet as ever. even in he midst of chaos, you were the sweetest he'd ever seen. "apex grove awaits us!" you glanced to your sister who was sat in the car, leaning out the window with an ugly green suncap on her head apex grove written in yellow writing.

"it's gonna be the best weekend ever!" she was whooping in the car causing you to giggle at her antics. it would be the best weekend ever, for her, that was if she remembered any of it after she got shitfaced two nights in a row.

jason was not unfamilliar to your sister's drinking habits. but he thought what harm, it wasn't as if you were stupid enough to get dragged into it too. "you have fun, okay? not too much fun."

you listened to him huff out a laugh. "i will." before moving forward to let your head fall on his chest. hugging jason was what you assumed hugging clouds felt like. though you'd never experience it, you could still dream. "'m gonna miss you." you mumbled, only loud enough for the man to hear.

even during arguments, you were the only one that truly saw him.

you never blamed him for his short temper or his aggrivation he felt during cases like these. you only moved with caution, letting him know you were there. you were something he would be eternally grateful for.

"i'll miss you too, sweetheart." he mumbled back, pretty eyes glowing in the little sunlight that gotham got.

"bleh!" your sister yelled, rolling her eyes. "come on, y/n! we're gonna be late for the dinner reservation!"

"okay, bye." you reached up, kissing him on the lips ever so gently. "love you."

"love you too." watching as you made your way towards the passenger seat giddily. "take care of her!" placing his hands on his hips as though he were a mother.

"bye jason!" your sister only yelled back in response causing his brows to crease even further. was she trying to make him go grey in his prime? nevertheless, he waved towards your window until your sister's range rover left through the wayne manor's gates.

while watching them close on the way out, he felt a certain tightness in his chest. worry. he worried for you, worried that something would happen to you while you were gone. then he reassured himself that here was where the trouble was. if anything, he should be thankful you were anywhere but here.

you'd given jason a key to your apartment. you'd always insisted he'd take one anyway but he never did, you soon learned that was because he sort of liked coming through your window, grin on his face as you jumped sheepishly with a fright.

now, however, the key was forced into his back pocket.

you'd told him he'd better stay at yours for at least the nights, reassuring him that this whole joker business would get sorted out as it always did. you told him that whatever he was to do, he was at least to get sleep in your apartment and not stay cooped up in the manor wondering where joker will land next.

and he really wanted to make you happy, truly.

but it was now sunday and they were no closer than they were before.

bruce was injured, heavily so, from the joker's last attack. alfred had all but bedbound him, forcing him onto the lush mattress that costs more than your apartment complex put together.

so for the most part, it was just dick and jason on this one. tim was away and damian wasn't trusted on something so severe without the guidance of bruce.

alfred popped in once or twice to deliver food and assure that they were getting the rest and nutrition that they needed.

however, all the brothers could do was think the entire events over and look for clues. "three wheels on fire." dick's hands were clasped in his lap while he sat by the computers. "that's what he said, why didn't he show?"

the men had thought for sure that the joker would have struck at the fun fair. gotham was throwing one and there happened to be exactly three ferris wheels. "i don't know." leaning his face onto his hand that was propped onto the table. a map lay atop it. "maybe it was to throw us off his trail?"

"no chance!" dick quickly shut him down as he stood, pacing the cave. "maybe something went wrong. maybe he messed up. three wheels on fire, i mean, that was his chance! what else could he have been talking about." seconds passed before dick practically had a light bulb appear over his head. "a car? three cars?"

"that could be any three cars." jason waved him off. "how on earth would we figure out who? besides, three random civilians? don't you think it's a little too.... theatrical for three civilians?"

dick slumped back into his chair. "the joker does love his theatrics."

and jason had to agree with that. his eyes glanced down to the map, scanning it, until... "dick." his head turned. "hand me that red marker?" doing as he was told, dick handed jason the red marker that he used to scribble little dots against the page.

in confusion, the older boy watched him. he watched as fear suddenly took over his face, draining him to a ghostly while colour. dick hadn't seen jason scared of many things but whatever he had just uncovered... that was enough fear for a lifetime. "talk to me jaybird."

he swallowed thickly, already standing. "everywhere the joker's hit has been in pathway's through towns. every dot on the page is where he hit."

dick shook his head. "no, no, he didn't hit there." bulky finger lingering on the last spot on the page.

"no." he shook his head. "but it's the only dot that would connect the full circle. apex grove. it's where y/n is." the words came out sort of like a whisper, a whisper of pure fear.

"no, no, okay? you can't go off of some silly circle drawing, i mean, how do you know she's even in a car right now?" his hands were on jay's shoulders, trying to keep him steady in all his attempts. but jason's mind had already been clouded by fear and that enough had it made up.

"she's coming home tonight."

"that still doesn't prove anything!"

"dick." his face stern and steady. "if anything happens to her," voice cracking ever so softly. "if anything happens to her, i won't forgive myself."

dick swallowed too, realising perhaps jason was right. and even if he wasn't, was it a situation he was willing to put your life on the line for? "okay, let's go."

"it's so dark." you giggled, glancing out the window. you were... tispy, you could say. thing is, you'd been the sober one for friday and saturday night so ashley decided you were going to drink at least one night so she decided why not now, it wasn't as if you had to drive back to gotham, she had that handled.

"yeah." she chuckled. "tends to happen when the sun goes down." you hummed, sitting back up. you weren't exactly drunk, everything was just buzzing a little. "i didn't wanna ask because i didn't wanna ruin the whole night or anything but what was going on with you and jason?"

"what do you mean?" you questioned, turning your head to her while laying it against the seat. tiredness consumed you whole and while you'd loved this little getaway with your sister, you were thankful to be sleeping in your apartment bed tonight.

she shrugged her shoulders, eyes set on the dark road ahead. "i don't know, thought there was a little tension or something."

"we had a little fight." you admitted, absentmindedly gazing out the window. "but it's okay, all couples fight, right?" you couldn't tell her why you'd fought because that would include telling her about the fact that he worked with batman against the joker and that didn't seem like a great way to tell her.

"oh yeah, you should see me and theo." theo was her husband, the father to her kid, teddy, it was supposed to be sort of like theo but you didn't know if that was how it actually sounded. "we fight all the time."

"but you love him." you added.

"oh yeah, to bits." grinning and for a split second, glancing at you. "and as a girl in love, i can tell when other people are in love. and you and jason are just... soulmates." you huffed out a little laugh. "no, seriously, i've never seen two people so in love. i mean, all through highschool, i really thought you were gonna end up a crazy old cat lady."

"i do like cats."

"mm, always did."

BANG !

jason swore he broke every speed limit known to man, he didn't care. he couldn't care. dick waited until the motorbike slowed to a stop.

the men discarded the vehicles before stepping onto the road, staring in shock.

in the darkness of the night, a range rover could be made out, lights still on, though it appeared only one was working. it had been flipped on it's backside, one wheel discarded on the other side of the road. what had hit them? jason had no idea but what he did know was that there was a kind of ringing in his ear, fear.

"is that them, jason?!" it wasn't the first time dick had yelled out the question.

though his voice suddenly brought him back to life, his brows knitted. "the car's not on fire." he mumbled, confused. "dick, the car isn't on fire."

"oh shit." instinctively taking a step back. "it's gonna blow up."

the words should have registered in jason's mind to get the fuck out of there. instead, he ran towards the car.

he heard the faint yell of "jason!" from behind him. but there was only one thing on jason's mind as of now. and that was you.

he found you quick enough, popping off the door with his strength instead of wasting any more time. he could see you flipped in the passenger seat, your sister next to you. even when blood dripped from your forehead and your nose, gash against your hairline, you looked almost peaceful, as if you were only sleeping.

it caused genuine fear in him. jason swore he'd never been so scared.

knowing that at any moment the car could explode, he grabbed your limp body with ease, carrying it until you were a safe enough distance from the car and setting you down on the ground.

"y/n? baby, can you hear me?" dick watched as his baby brother held his limp girlfriend in his arms. "y/n, wake up. wake up!" as if in some distant world, you'd heard him, your eyes slowly peeled themselves awake. "there you are, there you are, huh?" though a laugh emitted his mouth, there were tears in the corner of your boyfriends eyes.

confusion washed over you, eyes hazy. "where am i?" but before you could receive an answer, everything came flooding back and you began sitting up, turning your head. "where's ashley?"

you were leaning on your arm, the other had a wound soaking through your shirt.

the men didn't respond, glancing to one another. going in there meant risking their lives. and sure, they risked their lives every day for the people of gotham but that car could blow at any minute. "where is she?" you practically cried, eyes turning to the flipped car behind jason. "she's still in there?!"

"y/n, listen―"

you cut dick off, trying to stand. "no! no! i have to get her!"

jason held you though it didn't take much, your body already weak. "sweetheart, the car is gonna blow, we can't risk you―"

"i have to save her! get off!" as much as you tried to writhe against him, it worked at no avail. "jason, get off me! jason!" dick's heart pained as jason's hand soothed the back of your head, pushing it against his shoulder.

BANG !

you swore you screamed, you heard a scream, you think. it was all really hard to remember. you clawed at jason, crying into his redhood suit shoulder, sobbing horrendously as you watched the car that held your sister burst into flames.

jason held you, not uttering a word and watching dick flee the scene, most likely in suit of finding the joker. he could only hold you close, listening you scream the word 'no' on repeat.

"i know, i know." he swore he could feel his own eyes muddling with the same glassy tears that yours were covered with. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry."

at some point, you turned your eyes away from the explosion, face in jason's chest. you no longer fought against him, crying so loudly as he held your wrists against him, trying everything in his will to pick the pieces of you up. but in some way, he felt as though he'd caused them.

"she's gone." you sobbed out violently against him. "she's gone." the words repeated in your brain. you'd lost many people to gotham but never did you think you'd lose her, anyone but her.

"baby, you're bleeding." blood covered your hands and his, practically dripping down your face. "we need to get you to a hospital."

but you were beyond the point of caring, blubbering with few whimpers between. all you could think was your pretty sister, a husband and a kid, burned away in an explosion. she was gone and she was not coming back. "i- i can't." hyperventilating out the words. "i can't l-leave."

"i got you." you felt him help you off the stone ground, your knees weak. though nothing really registered, a ringing in your ears. even hours later, he kept repeating the same words. "i got you. i got you." sitting on the hospital bed next to you while you sat with a sullen look in your eyes. you were far away, that much was obvious but no longer stained with the vicious blood.

"she's gone." it came out much calmer now, though tears still coated your glassy red eyes. "why didn't you take her and not me?" though it was a stupid question.

even in your clouded mind you knew that if he could do it all over again, he wouldn't change a thing.

"i had to save you." he answered.

when he saw you were in that flipped over car, knowing there was a chance he could have blown up with you, he took it anyway, grabbing your limp body without hesitation.

he'd rather die than let something happen to you.

and in this case, he'd rather let someone else die than any harm to come to you. and that was simply something he wasn't afraid to admit.

he could lose. he had lost. he lost almost everything from his family to the world around him. but he couldn't lose you. no, anything but you.

main masterlist/jason's masterlist

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charlieeenby · 2 months

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let me show you how to kill a man

the bat won't kill, it's a line he won't cross. his birds, however, are a different story

warnings and tags: murder, violence, injury

title from how to kill a man by bloody civilian

What everyone knows, is that Batman doesn’t kill. He can’t, or won’t, cross that line, and he doesn’t think that killing is the answer.

But he knows that it’s necessary sometimes, and while he’ll never kill, he knows that his children don’t share the same sentiment.

So when it comes down to it, he lets them, and over the years, he’s gotten a little more lax with that rule, trusting his children’s judgement of a situation, and when they need to, he turns his back, doesn’t acknowledge it, and let’s them do what they have to.

But he’s managed to keep it a secret from most, only a select few surviving his the feral sides every one of his children hid from most of the world.

A group of four men stood with their backs facing each other, knives and fists up, ready, for a fight.

But they wouldn’t get one. Batman dropped down from the rafters, but he seemed focused on the kids the men had placed in cages.

Before any of them could react, Nightwing dropped on top of one of them, snapping his neck in one fluid motion. Then he lunged for a second. The other two tried to attack him, but he was able to fend them off, on taking a blow to the face from an escrima stick, the other, a kick to the knee.

Nightwing snapped the neck of the man under him, then stepped to the one who’s knee he’s kicked in. He reached down and snapped his neck. Then he moved over to the fourth man, who swung his knife at him. Nightwing grabbed it, twisting it out of his hand, then stabbed him in the throat, no screams able to escape.

He stood, made sure there was no blood on his suit, then made his way over to Batman and the kids, helping his father get all of them home safe.

Afterwards, Batman asked him if the goons had been handled.

“Of course. Quick and quiet. Hood’s gonna take care of the rest.”

“Good. Let’s go home.”

“Batman doesn’t kill, which means you can’t stop me!”

Gordon growled under his breath, wishing at that moment that Batman did kill, because if someone didn’t kill this weeks psycho, he’d end up leveling the city a few months down the line.

When he looked over to Batman, he was surprised to see that the man had straightened up, hands relaxed at his sides. He had an odd expression on his face, on Gordon couldn’t quite read.

Then he said, very calmly, “You’re right. I don’t kill. I can’t stop you.” Gordon watched him put a hand on his belt for a brief second before dropping it to his side.

The rouge started cackling, ranting and raving about how he was going to be the first to beat Batman, but when he looked down at Batman, and saw the smirk on his face, he stopped.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he yelled, panic clear in his voice.

“I don’t kill, but he does.” Batman said.

“Who -” he was cut off by a gunshot and a bullet piercing his skull. Gordon looked up and found the Red Hood with a rifle.

“He killed almost an entire army, Batman!” Ra’s screamed. “He blew them up because I upset him.”

Batman leveled him with a blank look, but said nothing.

“You don’t kill. Are you going to just let your son kill of thousands of people?”

For a beat, Batman stayed quiet. Then he said. “I don’t let Red Robin do anything. He does what he wants, and you tried to blackmail and kill him. You threatened him, his friends and his family. What he did to keep them safe is not in my control.

“I don’t kill, but if he found it necessary, then I trust his judgement. I’m sure you’ll recover, Ra’s.”

Ra’s stared at him, and Batman turned and guided Red Robin and his team out of Ra’s’ palace.

“Batman, control your hell spawn!” Black Mask screamed, though it was cut off with a gurgle. Robin drove his sword through the crime lord’s throat, and Batman turned away, working through the files on the computer.

Robin came over to his side, blood on his face and sword.

Batman glanced at him, then said, “You have blood on your face. Please clean it off before we talk to the Commissioner.”

“Yes, Father.” Robin did as asked, making sure his face was clear of blood, then followed his father out of the hotel and onto the street where Gordon and his men were waiting.

“Batman. Are we clear to enter?”

“Yes. Black Mask is dead.” Batman said, handing over a flash drive to Gordon. “I have a copy as well.”

Gordon nodded slowly. “Dead?”

“He attacked Robin. Robin defended himself.” Batman said simply. Then he used his grapple gun to launch himself to a roof, Robin following closely behind.

“Okay, then.” Gordon said to himself, not sure how to react to that, especially after he'd seen Red Hood shoot a man after it seemed like Batman had given him the go ahead.

While Barbra was Batgirl, she was safety and a warm light for the victims they all saved together. She was inspiration for little girls. She was violence, sure, but she was comfort, too.

Tonight, she was all violence. She and Batman had arrived a moment too late, and she was angry. She wanted vengeance and she would have it. Not even Batman would stop her.

No one could stop her when she rose from that little girls body and stepped forward, pulling out the knife her father had given her for her birthday. No one could stop her when she lunged, blade plunging into the killer’s throat, tearing it open. Blood spirted, spraying across her face.

And no one stopped her.

When the man was dead, and she was the killer, she stepped back, and looked to Batman.

He had bundled up the dead girl, wrapped her in his cape and covered her face. And then he had waited for Batgirl to finish. He looked at her for a moment, then nodded once.

“Go back to the cave and clean up. I’ll handle this.” he spoke softly, and there was no anger in his tone.

“Okay,” she said, and that was that.

Cass, Steph, and Jason were thick as thieves, and these days, Bruce rarely sees one without the other, especially on patrol.

So it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Spoiler called in saying that she, Orphan, and Hood needed backup.

Batman responded to the call, Nightwing a minute behind. When he arrived, he could hear fighting in the alleyway, but no gunshots, which worried him. Hood was quick to fire his guns when his siblings were in danger, and of all the times for him to use them.

But the air didn’t echo, it was still, quiet.

Batman dropped into the alleyway in time to watch Spoiler yank a knife from Orphan’s shaking hand, spin on her heel, and plunge the blade into a man’s eye, grinning under her mask as he screamed.

Hood came up behind the man and pulled a batarang across his throat, blood spilling down his chest. Even though he couldn’t see Hood’s face, Batman had the distinct impression that he had a grin that matched Spoiler’s.

Not pausing to hesitate, Batman moved to Orphan’s side, making sure she saw him before pulling her into a firm embrace. It was then that he saw the half dozen other bodies in the alley, all dead.

He looked to Spoiler and Hood.

Spoiler spoke up. “They attacked Orphan. She couldn’t kill them, so we did.” there was no room for argument, not that he had one.

“Thank you.”

Looking down at Orphan, he realized she was still shaking. “Sweetheart, it’s over. You’re safe.” he tried to soothe, though he wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong.

A hand rose and signed, “I thought I’d have to kill them.”

The shaking made sense now. “No, sweetheart, you will never have to kill again. I swear. And even if you did, I would still love you. You’d still be my daughter. Nothing will change that.”

Orphan laid her head on his shoulder. “Thank, you, Dad.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

Batman stood on the rooftop, watching Spoiler go after her father, a flash of purple here and there the only sign of her.

Cluemaster was no match for the girl he claimed to be the father to. He’d only hurt her, sharpened the blade.

But Spoiler was who she was in spite of her father, not because of him.

She became the one to beat him so she could save people. And when Batman had found her, he’d helped her hone the skills she already had, helped her improve. And while he’d done that, he’d given her a home, a family, and most importantly, he’d given her love.

Now she was gutting her father, preventing him from causing anymore suffering.

And when she swung up to the roof Batman was on and saw him, she ran to him, ran into his arms, and clung to him.

“He’s gone, sweetheart. He can’t hurt you or anyone ever again. You’re safe.” he whispered, holding her gently. “I’ve got you.”

While the other’s killing had never surprised Batman, Signal came as a slight surprise. But only slight. He was a bright, warm light, often reminding his family of the sun.

But the sun was fire, and fire burns. So when Signal came face to face with the Joker only a few months after losing his parents, Batman wasn’t sure what to expect.

When Signal caught sight of Joker, he snarled, and tensed up, ready to fight. The Joker had cackled and started taunting Signal.

Red Hood was about to step in when Signal grabbed Hood’s gun and fired every round into the Joker’s head, until his face was obliterated and unidentifiable. Then he’d dropped the gun and fell to his knees.

Batman stepped up next to him and set a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “He’s dead, Signal. It’s over.” he said, voice as gruff as ever.

“I know.”

For a moment, they were all quiet, not sure what to do. Then Batman offered a hand to Signal and helped him up. “You good?” he asked, looking his son over.

Signal didn’t answer right away, but then he said, “I will be… thank you.”

Batman smiled. “Of course.”

Of all the times for his children to start killing people, now was the worst time. He couldn’t just ignore it because the Justice League was here. So Batman was not having a good time.

“Batman,” Flash started, voice shrill. “Nightwing just tore a man’s head off.”

To his left, Orphan snickered, not that anyone would know aside from him, but she did. Batman sighed.

“I saw that, Flash, thank you.” What was he supposed to do?

“Batman, almost all of your… children are actively killing people. Signal and Orphan are the only one’s who aren’t.” Superman said. “Why aren’t you reacting?”

Batman looked at him. He hesitated.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Superman was an inch away, worry clear on his face.

On his right, Signal cleared his throat. “I feel like it’s a good time to point out that one, the people they’re killing are all of the rapists that have ever existed on earth, come back to life, and two, no one else is doing anything about it.”

Batman grinned. Well, the corner of his mouth ticked up, but it may as well have been a grin with the way Superman stared at him.

“Batman?” he asked incredulously.

“Hn?”

“Do something!”

Batman tilted his head, grunted, then walked over to the ledge they were all on. “Hey!” he yelled and the fighting stopped, all of his children stopping and staring at him. “Superman wants you to stop killing.”

For a good thirty seconds, no one moved or said anything. Then on the comms, Batman heard Hood snort.

“B, will you please tell Superman to, respectfully, get fucked?” Nightwing said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

Batman grunted, then turned to the League. “Superman, Nightwing told me to tell you to get fucked. Respectfully.” he said, deadpan. Then he walked back to where he was standing.

Bonus:

It had been twenty years since the Wayne’s brutal murder in that alley way, ten since Batman had started, and one since Dick had joined the family. Today, someone was breaking into the manor.

Alfred sighed as he loaded his shot gun. This would be messy to clean up, but he never missed and he didn’t share the same sentiment as his son.

So he after he finished loading it, he stepped into the hallway, moving silently towards the living room. Must be idiot intruders, thinking there’d be anything to take there.

When he stood in the doorway of the room, he raised his riffle, counted the men – there were three – then spoke.

“Hello.”

They all spun around staring wide eyed at the shot gun.

Alfred grinned. “Goodbye.” he fired three shots in quick succession, all three of them dead. Footsteps pounded down the stairs and Bruce flew around the corner, panic on his face.

“Nothing to fret over, Master Bruce.” Alfred said calmly. “I’ve handled it. The mess will be cleaned up before breakfast. Now go back to bed, dear boy.”

Bruce gave him an odd look, eyeing the shot gun, then nodded and went back to bed.

In the morning, when Bruce looked into the living room, it was spotless, nothing out of place. No one said anything about it.

#batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #barbra gordon #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #tw murder #tw gun violence #tw stabbing #tw blood #tw violence #alfred pennyworth #justice league #my work

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raggedy-dxctor · 1 year

Text

intimate things w/ dick grayson

pairing(s): dick grayson x gn!reader

warnings: none, its really long though

his breath hitching when you kiss along his jaw

stroking his hair as his head lies on your lap

+ him falling asleep in that position, soft snores coming from him as the sun begins to set. it's the best sleep he's had in months

him gently guiding you towards him by your hips and placing a soft kiss on your lips, mumbling how much he's missed you and smiling as he leans his forehead against yours

running your fingers along his scars. he flinches at first because he doesn't expect it, but then he guides your hand back towards them and holds your hips, pulling you closer

he's a big physical touch guy

your first kiss being soft and unsure, dick was serious about you and he didnt want to rush things or mess things up with you. but as soon as he pulled away and met your eyes he just knew and confidently kissed you

likes to hold your cheeks or jaw when you kiss

noticing his discomfort at meals with bruce (leg bouncing, fidgeting, chewing his lip, etc) and immediately helping

-> placing a hand on his leg and softly smiling at him, inaudibly reminding him of your presence and to take a deep breath

-> bringing your chair closer to him so he knows you're there if he needs to reach out for you

-> finding his hand under the table and squeezing it super gently, stroking your thumb along the side of his hand, before slowly pulling it away a few minutes later. often he'll look towards you with pleading eyes, a signal that he wants your hand to stay in his a little longer, or his hand will squeeze back as you start to pull away

-> changing the subject so the pressure isn't on him

he always feels bad about ranting about bruce afterwards, but he knows you're always there to listen no matter what and that's exactly what he needs. it makes him tear up a little when you reassure him perfectly every time

him calling you while he's out on patrol

-> "hi love" you can practically hear the relieved smile on the other end after he finally gets to hear your voice again. "hi baby" you giggle back, causing him to chuckle. in that moment he's so desperate to just like be in your arms or have you in his that he almost quits being nightwing

staying up late to be there after every patrol

-> when he finally gets back and sees you again he'll pick you up and twirl you around, setting you down and greeting you with a deep kiss

-> "how was patrol love?" "let's not talk about it now, i've missed you, you're the only one on my mind right now"

getting lost in his eyes, a small tint of red over his cheeks as he laughs at you finally snapping back to reality

"when was the last time you slept, dick?" he sighs and rubs his face, realising his failures to sleep hadn't been worrying hin as much as they should've. "a few days... about two. i think" you sigh and ghide hin towards the bed, cuddling up to him as the two of you spoon, he chuckles slightly and kisses your jaw from behind, mumbling a small thank you before falling asleep minutes later

both leaning against the doorframe in separate situations and smiling at the other getting ready

-> dick has a day off from his duties so he leans against the door frame, with comfy pyjamas on and slightly tousled hair, as he watches you get ready, a fond smile painted on his face. he'll come up behind you and snake his arms around your hips, resting a head on your shoulder. "you're so pretty, can't you stay home today, love?" you fold immediately, how could you not?

-> OR, you lean against the door frame, smiling fondly as he rushes around, getting into his nightwing suit. his hair is all messy and he's out of breath as he walks up to you and peppers your face with gentle kisses. "i can see you watching me, you know" he chuckles,

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #robin #dc robin #dick grayson titans #titans #richard grayson #richard grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader

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igotanidea · 6 months

Text

Truth: Dick Grayson x spy!reader

Summary/request: Dick Grayson X Spy Girlfriend. Dick reveals his secret identity to her first and she decides to confess too.

***

„Where are you?”

„Dick”

“Where the hell are you?!”

„Grayson!”

“I swear I’ll kil you”

“Answer me damn it.”

“Dick…”

“Come on, please….”

“I’m worried.”

“Just come home….”

Well shit.

Y/N was blowing up his phone for the last couple hours and he was feeling more and more guilty by every passing second. Of course, he didn’t blame her for being distressed with his absence. After all in was something around 2 a.m., and to tell the whole truth he was actually a bit cocky because of that little care display even if she did threaten him at the beginning.

However, there were a few problems with that state of fact.

First. Why was she up at this time. Was it possible that she had trouble sleeping or had a nightmare and needed him to hold her and touch her and reassure her? Just a thought of that was breaking his heart.

Second, he had been currently in the middle of patrolling west side of Gotham, catching the trail of another villain he was tracing for the last couple of weeks, and no matter how much he wanted to, couldn’t just ditch it, even though his heart was telling him to run to her.

And third.

She had no idea.

Yeah, he didn’t tell her he was Nightwing. Honestly, he was avoiding that subject like a plague, and every time she came as close as mentioning the name of a Bludhaven/ Gotham blue vigilante he was shutting her up with kisses.

And with her big brain, Y/N figured out his Pavlovian reaction in no time and started using it for her advantage whenever she was feeling needy for something more than just sweet words. God, she had him wrapped around her little finger. Honestly, Dick couldn’t imagine being without her.

And keeping his secret identity a - well- a secret, was both an argument for making sure she won’t leave him and a constant stressor she will leave him when if she finds out.

Damn it. He was torn.

It’s been a year of them being together. Maybe it was time to let the cat out of the bag?

Even though Dick was lost inside his head the fact that his target was now on the run did not pass him. He just jumped off the roof, immediately getting to action, getting done with the thug in less then five minutes.

As he was waiting for the police to arrive, walking in circles he made a decision.

Since she didn’t tell him her secret first, he was going to be the one to take the action.

***

Little did he know that Y/N was texting him not only because she was worried, but also because she was currently stuck in her spy costume in the middle of the bedroom, unable to pull the stupid zipper up or down. Obviously she couldn’t let him see that, and by those texts was just trying to test the waters, and hopefully, buy herself some time.

Of course she was concerned every time he has been sneaking out on patrol dressed in blue, thinking she was asleep. But she also knew Nightwing skills and abilities (back when they were still friends and not a couple Nightwing was her mission. Once he found out the identity of the vigilante she refused to reveal it to her contemporary boss, hence the scar on her lower abdomen***).

Funny thing that Dick though her gullible and naive enough to not notice him leaving the apartment every night. But on the other hand it was good, cause if he were to find out she knew, he would also realize she was not just the calm, caring girlfriend, but also a killer agent

But seriously, as long as she was in that suit of hers there was still a risk of being exposed.

„Shit!” she pulled at the material, but stupid Kevlar refused to cooperate, clinging to her body like a second skin. „I swear every time they upgrade this freaking outfit it gets worse!” she muttered to herself, pulling the zipper, almost falling to the ground at the unsuccessful attempt to free herself. Seriously! Why couldn’t her designers get inspired by Flash ring or something simple that would just go poof and you’ll be dressed. Or create something like doctor Strange’s cape. Or- scratch the magic and metahumans- Iron Man’s suit. For crying out loud it was XXI century,you could’t just expect people to find a phone booth every time you need to get to action!

She was cursing under her nose, laying on her back on the bed, lights on, struggling against the costume when the unmistakable sound of opening the window reached her ears making her freeze at the spot.

Holy shit!

Holy fucking shit!

Dick was back!? Why the hell?! It was barely 2.30! He never finished before 4 a.m! 3 if it was an extremely quiet night!

Shit! Oh shit!

„Ok, Y/N. Focus. Think like an agent. Cold blood. Even breath. Clear mind. What can you do?” she though to herself. Obviously, there was not a single chance she could loose the suit so she did the only thing that came to her brain.

***

Dick almost got a heart attack upon noticing the light on in the bedroom. Unfortunately that room was situated on the east side of the building and Dick was coming back using the west window. Yeah, the architect probably didn’t think about the vigilantes wrapping up their patrols while making blueprint, what an oversight!

He made a mental note to himself to pay a visit to the poor man or woman who committed such a rookie mistake, but for now he had bigger problems. If the lamp was turned on, that probably meant she was awake. And if she was awake, she probably hear that stupid screetching window (another thing to discuss with the architect and constructors). And that could mean one of two things:

She would come to the main room, thinking it might be him, and see him in Nightwing suit, or

She would come to the main room, thinking it’s a thug, carrying her baseball bat for protection and see him in his Nightwing suit.

Same impasse.

So he did the only thing that came to his brain.

***

„Why are you in your underwear?!”

„Why are you in towel!?”

Let’s go back in time a few minutes.

While she rushed to the bathroom, grabbing one of her cutting gadgets hidden on the top shelf, ripping the suit, spraying herself with water and wrapping up in the towel, Dick took off his costume, settling on going almost full commando rather than risking exposure. Two people, two very bad and completely irrational decisions.

„I was taking a shower!”

„at 2.30?!”

„what the hell were you doing?! there’s blood on your chest!”

„Made you look.” Dick grinned, unable to stop the teasing and smirking.

„Are you freaking serious?!”

„Don;t change the subject!”

„I’m not changing anything!”

„Great, then I’m just gonna take a quick shower myself and we can go back to sleep.” he shrugged casually trying to walk past her acting like nothing weird was happening, his initial idea of talking to her about his vigilante life suddenly evaporating.

She froze. And then her blood boiled and hands started shaking. There was no way she was going to let him in, with the scraps of the elastic material splattered all over the bathroom floor. He would recognize the type of it immediately, seeing as it was commonly used among both vigilantes and spies.

„You can’t go in there.” she blocked his way, crossing arms over her chest.

„Oh?” he raised an eyebrow and smirked. „And why is that?”

„cause I disinfected the shower and you need to wait for the chemicals to volatilize.”

„What-?” he stuttered, both shocked and unconvinced.

„Yes. Absolutely.” It was hard to say whether she was trying to convince Dick or rather herself. „It’s detrimental for your health. You have to wait. Can’t risk you going down because of descaler or something like that.”

„What kind of cleaners are you using, exactly?” he faltered again, getting a bit worried about her.

Fingerprints remover, bleach, some explosive chemicals, caustic agents....

„Only the best!” she grinned nervously, grabbing his arms and guiding him away from the bathroom, forcing to sit on the bed. „Can’t save on hygiene, right?”

„I guess--” he started, but knowing she’s getting some of her position back, she did not let him finish.

„Sh. Not a word. You are hurt. How about I patch you up, huh?”

„Oh-okay....” Dick muttered, only after a second realizing that the first aid kit was in the living room. In that one drawer where he stuck his suit while panicking about getting exposed. „Uh- um- Y/N, baby... you know, on second thought it’s not that bad..... I mean - I mean look- it already curdled and it is just a scratch -- no need to make a fuss about it, um-”

„Don’t be silly, Dick. Just let me help you, okay?” she took a few steps forward, ready to get the kit, when he jumped out of bed, grabbed her hand and kissed her. (did I mention Pavlovian reaction)

Obviously, at first she melted into him, instantly pulling herself closer, kissing him back with utmost love. In her defence, she was already agitated and scared of her spy life getting revealed and the adrenaline running in her veins did the job. As well as for Dick when his hands moved to her waist, rubbing her sides and hips, getting lost in her.

It lasted for a while before she pulled back gasping softly. That kind of kiss was way to familiar. Under normal circumstances their making out sessions was either sweet and gentle or passionate and urgent. No in-between.

But this? This was the same kind of first base as every time she mentioned Nightwing. So given that and the fact he didn’t want her to go to the living room he must have been hiding somewhere there.

Poor Dick.

So desperate, not knowing she knew he was Nightwing and trying to cover it up. And she was going to keep him in that unawareness just a little bit longer. Just to tease. And maybe also to dispel any suspicions he might have already had about her.

„Oh, Dick, baby, I want to patch you up. Don’t be a stubborn ass. I am your girlfriend. It’s my duty to help you out.” she wriggled out of his embrace, taking another step towards the living room.

„And as your boyfriend I am telling you I can handle myself and I;d hate you to worry.” he took a step towards the bathroom as some sort of counter-threat.

„I’m gonna worry either way until you let me heal you...” she moved another inch, standing on the threshold between two rooms.

„You can heal me in some other way, baby...” he repeated the motion, almost reaching for the bathroom dorknob.

„Dick...” she almost hissed at him, her throat clenching. God damn it!

„Y/N...” he gasped, his eyes scanning her every movement.

Such a war of nerves they were waging against one another, believing they were so smart, playing the other and having the other where they wanted to do. But it was not a chess game and there was no predicting how the other would act while- well- endangered. So, at the moment, Y/N and Dick were just standing in front of each other, mindful of every move, the tension between them palpable and unbearable. Tensed muscles were ready to react, every instinct on high alert, senses sharpened, breath fastened.

In some other circumstanced they would probably end up having the most passionate night of love, but not this time.

She took another step back and before he could react rushed to the living room, trying to reach that stupid drawer where he hid the evidence of his nightlife.

„DAMMIT Y/N!”he made after her a second later, grabbing her from the back, almost peeling the towel off in the process.

„Let me go!” she started kicking and squirming trying to break free as he lifted her off the ground. „I’m gonna neutralize you! I’ll go full black widow on you!”

„Black widow, huh? Is there something you want to tell me, baby?”

„Put me down Grayson!” she struggled even more, cursing herself for not being able to really act on her words. Not with him. Not with her boyfriend.

„Y/N!”

„Put me down!!”

„Y/N!!”

„What?!”

„I need to tell you something!”

„THEN JUST FREAKING SAY IT!”

„NOT BEFORE YOU CALM DOWN!”

„STOP YELLING AT ME!” she shouted

„YOU STARTED IT!”

„I’M A WOMAN! I GET TO START FIGHTS OUT OF NOTHING! AND YOU’RE THE MAN SUPPOSED TO TAKE MY SHIT-! Whoops--” her eyes grew wide at the realization she might have gone to far. Seemingly he though the same cause his grip on her loosened and he put her on the ground. „I’m sorry, Dick - I- I didn’t mean that-” she whispered „please, don;t be mad at me- I love you....”

And that was it. She said those three magic words he knew was true and it was just impossible to lie to her anymore.

„I love you too. And I’m Nightwing.” he sighed, closing his eyes, ready for shocked expression, wide eyes, open mouth and confused stuttering. And he was going to take the repercussions of not telling her earlier. Her anger, her disappointment, the feeling of being deceived.

But nothing like this happened and after a moment of prolonging silence he dared to open one eye, taking on such a funny look that she couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle.

„Hey!” he clearly took offence „why are you laughing at me?! Wait--’ finally it hit him „why are you laughing? Why are you not mad?”

„Do you want me to be mad?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, truly waiting for his response

„God, no! Last time you were, you didn’t let me-- not the point.” Dick shook his head „Did you hear what I just said?”

„You’re Nightwing.”

„I’m Nigh---. Wait - why are you so calm about it? I kept it a secret from you for so long and--”

„Dick.”

„I lied to you to put it bluntly. I’ve been out fighting crime, acting like a hero, who I am, handsome and brave and skillful but still putting my life in danger and ---”

„Dick!”

„Did you know I got the title of the hottest vigilante in --”

„DICK!!”

„But I still think that--”

„Stop talking! I knew!!”

„you what?”

„I knew you were Nightwing! I figured it out a while ago, but tried to play fair and give you a chance to come clean with me.”

„YOU KNEW!?”

„Yeah.... I’m not stupid, okay? And-- and I;m not mad or offended or anything like that. I get that it’s a part of who you are so no worries about me asking you to stop or whatever else.”

„You are surprisingly understanding” he muttered „Babe?”

„Hmmmm?”

„why are you so cool about it?”

„Ok...um--” she brushed her hair out of her forehead nervously „please don’t freak out, ok?” she looked into his eyes for a second before staring at the floor „I-um-... I’m a spy...”

„Like James Bond?” he grinned „I was always a fan of the classic but if you prefer Daniel--”

„DICK!!”

„What?” he scoffed „you’re a spy, I know. I-- well, I might have known for a while now.”

„You did?” she frowned. „damn, it’s not like it kills my confidence in my skills....” she rolled her eyes.

„Well it does add to my confidence in mine” he laughed wholeheartedly and regardless of her irritation she did crack a smile.

„I hate you and your stupid sense of humor.”

„so why are you laughing with me baby?”

„I’m laughing at how annoying you are”

„Come on, I’m forgiving you for keeping things from me...” he grabbed her waist pulling her into his chest and hugging closely. „Can I see that sexy spandex suit of yours now?” he whispered into her ear.

„Hmmm. I might be in need of a new one, cause I kind of the destroyed it--”

„Don’t worry baby, I can work with the lack of it too....”

Oh, boy....

No sleep for the wicked that night.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x oc #nightwing x oc #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson fluff #nightwing fluff

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diariesofthelover · 4 months

Text

I Put A Spell On You

synopsis: On one of his rare nights off, Dick Grayson decides to check out the bustling, newly reopened underground jazz club in Blüdhaven where he meets a woman that he can’t resist, losing all control of himself.

notes: 18+, Dick Grayson x reader, 3rd person pov, inspired by middle painting & Nina Simone’s “I Put A Spell On You”, put on some jazz while you read💋

Dick didn’t know why he chose to go to a jazz club on his first night off from Nightwing duties in weeks, all he knew was that he had put on his nicest navy silk button up, black dress pants that barely went over his ass, and a black blazer gifted to him by Bruce, all worn with the intention of spending a night at Blüdhaven’s favorite new spot, The Siren’s Den.

There’s been a lot of talk in the city about the former speakeasy. The music was great, hell it was exceptional, the food and drinks were ambrosial, and the singers, the best part, were enchanting.

All of the above were correct. Even though this wasn’t his usual scene, Dick was enjoying himself. The Siren’s Den had the best music, the best food, the best drinks, and by far the best singers he’d ever heard. The space was lit up by soft red lights with one warm spotlight on the stage leaving the table and bar areas pretty dim but light enough to see. Overall, the atmosphere felt sexy and mysterious, and due to the popularity of the place, it was packed this Saturday night.

He’d been sitting at the bar for about half an hour now enjoying the music and the booze when he spotted her. There she was, a woman around his age sitting all alone at a table with a drink in her hand just like him. She had on a silk navy dress that flattered her breathtaking figure, matching perfectly with his button up. One of her straps was teasingly sliding off her shoulder, hair pushed away to the other side leaving the soft skin exposed.

Dick Grayson had seen, and been with, many gorgeous women in his life, but this one felt different. She was tantalizing, swaying to the jazz songs so sensually evoking a familiar feeling deep inside him.

“How could a woman like her be sitting all by herself?” He thought, “How could no one have approached her by now, tried to win her affection? Has she rejected every man who has tried already, god am I about to make a fool of myself?” But when has shame, humiliation, or rejection ever stopped the Boy Wonder, don’t answer that.

With a little more liquid courage, he confidently makes his way over to her without any idea of what he’s gonna say or do when he comes face to face with the beauty.

“Hi,” Dick greets her taking her attention away from the band to him, “Dick Grayson.”

She slowly tilts her head to the side inquisitively, curious as to what he was going to say next. Silence was the only thing to follow his introduction as he himself had nothing prepared making her lips curl up into a small smirk.

“Hi, Dick Grayson,” she broke the silence.

“Hi,” he said again breathlessly, “seat beside you taken?”

“Nope,” she said sweetly paired with an angelic smile that he returned.

“Mind if I join you?”

She didn’t say anything, instead she slowly shifted her herself over making room for him. Without hesitation, Dick relaxes next to her, not using the extra space she gave him resulting in their thighs almost touching. He took off his blazer feeling his body temperature already rising, he already wished to rip off both their clothes and take her right here in this booth, he’s never felt this aroused by a stranger before.

She shifts her attention back onto the performance in an attempt to hide her already rosy cheeks, but Dick was feeling needy and selfish, wanting the beauty’s eyes and ears on him, not the musicians. He gently placed his strong hand under her jaw, slowly moving her head to look at him again, smiling when he does. He had a beautiful smile, the kind that made you smile without even realizing it, even if you tried your best not to.

“How does a beautiful angel like you come here by yourself?”

“Maybe I just enjoy quality time with myself, and you’re interrupting my night,” she giggled sweetly causing Dick’s smile to grow wider.

Dick chuckles, “Interrupting huh,” he leaned in closer, their noses now only an inch apart and thighs touching, “you did after all let me join you, I must be something special for you to let me in like that.” Dick’s always been a forward and bold man but this time around it was different, the place’s erotic energy, the booze, and this gorgeous being in front of him quickly made him crazily hot and bothered.

She felt nervous, knowing that he can read her like a book, knowing that he can tell how attracted she was to him, it was written and painted all over her pretty face. He brushed a lose strand of hair from her face, then dragging his hand down her rosy cheek to caress her, keeping his blue eyes locked on hers. Those pretty blue eyes, she was getting completely lost in them.

“You’re the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever been blessed with,” he softly admits, warm hand still placed on her burning cheek. He made her feel like a little kid talking to a stranger for the first time, like a teenage girl walking past her hallway crush, she was a nervous wreck with him in the best way possible.

“What’s a charming man like you doing single?”

“Looking for a woman like you,” he moved his hand down to her exposed neck, every part of her body was burning up, same with his. His eyes trailed down to her mouth, leaning in closer, brushing his pink lips against her soft ones colored in red from her expensive lipstick.

“Please let me kiss you, I don’t think I can wait a minute more,” he breathed out, looking into her eyes again for approval.

“It’s only been a few minutes,” she teased.

“Please,” he asked again, even more desperately than the last time.

The second she gave him a nod of approval, he pressed his lips to hers, slowly savoring each moment and movement. They hungrily continued kissing each other, like it was the last time they would share this moment together, growing more and more hot with each exchange. Sloppy lipstick stains were marked on Dick’s mouth, claiming him as hers for the night, the sight was salacious. Yes, the place was packed, no, they didn’t care, all they cared about was having each other.

Dick started shifting his lips down her jaw, causing her to lean her head back, hoping he’d soon reach her neck, “That where you want me doll?” She nodded to his suggestive question, “Tell me, tell me how you want me to kiss your neck, tell me how bad you want me to mark you up.”

“Please, Dick,” was all she could muster. Dick didn’t have the patience within him to tease her, he needed to ravage every bit of her, now.

“Anything for you, pretty girl,” He finally connects his lips to her pulsing neck, taking in her sweet scent. He starts drawing purple marks on her neck, licking the spot over once done with his work, earning a sweet sigh from his girl. While continuing his painting on her neck, one hand started to make its way down her body, rubbing up and down the sides of her glorious frame, the other holding the nape of her neck, his long fingers caressing her hair.

She reaches her hands out to feel him up that way he was touching her, one hand in his soft wavy black hair, pulling him closer where she needs him, the other traveling across his muscular thigh.

Dick pulls one of her legs onto his lap, spreading them slightly. He finishes his piece on her neck and focuses back on her eyes again, not wanting to miss a single reaction of hers. He keeps one hand on the base of her neck, the other one now moved down to her spread thighs, rubbing up and down. He watches her closely, seeing how far she’d let him take this in a public setting.

She moves a hand to rest atop his much larger one, guiding him higher up where she’s waiting for him. Once his hand reached the small space between her inner thigh and lacy panties, she pulled herself off, letting him take control.

He rested his calloused hand over her clothed heat, teasingly rubbing small circles in the perfect spot, “Dirty, dirty girl. You want me to please you in front of all these people?” Even if anyone was looking at them, they didn’t care. Their desire for each other was uncontrollable, their bodies felt like they were on fire. The music felt like it was getting louder, the lights more red and the conversations around them more lively.

“Yes,” she breathed out, “Yes, please.”

Her sweet pleads and lustful look was all Dick needed to slip his hand into the fabric she called underwear. He pressed his lips to hers, suppressing any moans she’d make while his he used her slickness to rub her where she craved him and prep himself for her entrance. She moved one of her hands to his shirt, unbuttoning him a bit for her and feeling his toned chest, her arousal growing stronger.

Tell me how much you need this, tell me how much you need me,” he moved his lips to her ear, demanding her response to his risqué request.

She needed him more than air right now. She felt so empty without him, like Dick Grayson was the only man who could ever fill her void, the only man who could sate her hunger. She couldn’t verbalize how eager she was for him, letting her body tell him instead.

She trailed her hand up to his crotch, feeling Dick grow with each movement and sound she made. He was straining against his slacks, desperately trying to free himself, but he wanted to hear her unravel for him first.

Dick quickly slipped in his finger with ease causing her to gasp and bury her head in his neck, “Don’t by shy baby, want everyone to hear how I was the lucky guy to get this pretty pussy tonight,” shamelessly adding another finger in her needy hole that was molding around his long fingers, welcoming him in, hoping he’d never leave. She felt whole with him, he was filling her up so well, making her feel euphoric.

The crude wet sounds of Dick pumping himself into her and her gentle moans were drowned out by the band and crowd getting louder. His curved fingers brushing her sweet spot, thumb rubbing fast circles on her clit, his other hand now pulling her straps further down in an attempt to get more of her, his dirty dirty mouth, “You like this? Like me fucking fingering you in front of all these people yea? You’re a sin,” was enough for her to want to release already.

“Wait, Dick–mm, not here,” she hesitantly pulled herself off of him, “need you all, come with me,” Dick helped her stand up, letting her take him anywhere as long as he had her. Her hair and dress were disheveled, his blazer thrown over his shoulder, button up not even buttoned, bulge very prominent, begging to be inside her, and both their faces red with desire.

With that, the two walked out of the club, hands still all over each other, not even bothering to adjust themselves, to continue their night, consuming each other so they will never forget their night at The Siren’s Den.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x fem!reader #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson fic #dick grayson smut #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x fem!reader #nightwing x female!reader #nightwing fic #nightwing smut

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lygma-nygma · 23 days

Text

Knowing the original reason(s) that Dick became Nightwing and then reading comics like Nightwing: Year One is just so annoying. Like what is the deal with more modern rewrites making everything surrounding Dick and Bruce super edgy and angsty when the original version of the story was perfectly fine?? It’s like DC Comics is on a mission to assassinate both of their characters to make Dick into a ‘sad boy’, it’s infuriating.

Original Pre-Crisis Nightwing Lore: Yeah I'm just kind of getting too old to be Robin. Like it or not Robin is forever and always going to be known as Batman's sidekick and I just don't feel like that fits me anymore. I'm the leader of the Teen Titans and I spend most of my time doing that and solo missions now anyway. I think I'm going to drop the mantle, take a step back, and find a new identity. Original Post-Crisis Nightwing Lore: I got shot and fell off a building during a mission and almost died right in front of Bruce. It shook him up and made him super afraid of me dying so he told me he wasn't going to run with a Robin anymore because he didn't want my death to be his fault. I was annoyed about him treating me like a kid and that he was throwing all the years we worked together away over one incident but he said it wasn't like that, he just hoped I was old enough to understand where he was coming from. I told him that there was no way I wasn't going to continue being a hero and he fully supported me saying that he would always be there to help if I needed it. I was still hurt by it all, especially when Jason showed up, but ultimately I came to understand why it happened and got over it. Edgy Retcon Nightwing Lore: I went out of my way to SAVE him and then I got PUNISHED because I didn't do it right and wasn't prioritizing Gotham enough despite my THIRTEEN THOUSAND JOBS but I'm not surprised because he's always been unreasonable and HATES ME so now I'm not Robin anymore because Batman is an awful person and emotionally abuses me. And just to be clear it's not like Dick and Bruce didn't fight before the retcon, frequently being at each other's throats is literally a core aspect of their relationship, but I'm just so tired of them retconning every interaction they have into some overdramatic spat. Way to completely strip Dick of all his agency as a character and turn Bruce into an empty cardboard cut out of himself. Hope the angst points are worth it.

EDIT: I also want to add that fights between Bruce and Dick used to have a lot more nuance than they do now. The B&D fights used to be caused by a breakdown in communication on BOTH sides, not just Bruce's. The 'Jason becoming Robin' fight comes to mind. In Batman #416 neither Dick's complaints nor Bruce's excuses made complete sense but that was the point. Bruce should have been better at reaching out but Dick was also expecting Bruce to be a mind reader and know how he was feeling without telling him. Dick left home without saying goodbye well Bruce was on a mission, Bruce assumed that meant Dick didn't want to see him and so avoided reaching out leading to the two of them not talking for a long time. Dick accepts that Bruce doesn't want him as Robin anymore in stride (he even smiles and shit about it) so Bruce doesn't realize that losing Robin actually hurt him, ex. It's that kind of fighting, the "I want to slam both your heads together" fighting, that I miss so much.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #nightwing #just me complaining about things again #I blame frank miller for this #Frank miller and Tom king when I GET YOU #For those of you wondering the comics referenced here are #The New Teen Titans (39)#Batman (408)#Nightwing (101)#I can't put number signs in the tags so those are all issue numbers lol

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clockwayswrites · 6 months

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A Broken Sort of Normal, Part 18

WC: 1565, Masterpost

“Here to bring me to a debrief?” Danny asks the shadow lurking in the doorway. He swears that Batman almost looks chastised at that. “It’s fine, Batman, I know how these things work.”

“The core Titans are insisting on being there, for moral support,” Batman rumbles. “If you aren’t comfortable with that, they’ll be sent away.”

Danny chuckles; that really is like them. “No, I might as well only go through it all once. Besides, that’s sweet. Can I at least take the time to put on real clothing?”

Batman narrows his eyes at Danny. “You’re still injured. Loose clothing only.”

“Gods, how does no one see what a dad you are,” Danny teases.

Batman smiles, just for a moment, before he turns to sweep over dramatically out of the room. “I’ll send in Flash with some approved clothing.”

“That better be my Flash you’re sending in!” Danny calls after Batman. When the doorway is free of the luring hero, Danny lets himself fall back against the pile of pillows.

A debrief. How is he supposed to explain any of this? So far he hasn’t been allowed to explain things, really. Part of it is that he’s spent most of the last several days asleep. When he has been awake, it’s to a rotating cast of heroes; all heroes that he was close to and knew behind the mask. With every able bodied hero busy with clean up, no one has been able to stay long. He sees Barry the most, what with the other’s leg, but even Barry is busy helping coordinate the recovery efforts.

(Danny’s also pretty sure that they’re using the chance to visit him as a way to make people take a break.)

While the heroes are with him, it’s been mostly Danny getting updated on everyone and whoever is with him getting information to update everyone else with. They won’t even let him work, but they do pass on information about his crews at least. It’s Wally who’s with him the most. Wally was there the first time Danny woke and as Danny breathed through panic attacks and to patiently reply to the endless stream of messages for Danny.

Speak of the devil… Danny’s phone chimes again.

He can’t look at it.

He hasn’t been able to look at it since the first message from Jasmine came in. Since they all remembered.

Wally hadn’t asked. He had just let Danny shake apart in his arms and has handled Danny’s phone from then on. ‘This is Danny’s boyfriend. He’s alive and will recover. He’ll contact you at a later time.’

“I thought we put that thing on silent,” Wally says with a glare at the phone as he steps into the room.

Danny makes shameless grabby hands at the clothing. “So did I. Who is it?”

Danny’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake at the question.

Maybe it’s fair that they’ve all been avoiding the big big questions. Maybe it really is obvious that he’s still only hanging on by a thread. He certainly feels less like a live wire and more like the one, stubborn fuse still humming in the circuit breaker.

He certainly feels weak.

“Jasmine again.”

Danny sucks in a staggered breath and lets it out slowly. “Just… just tell her that I’m sorry, but I can’t yet.”

Wally presses a kiss to Danny’s temple. “I’ll remind her that you’re healing too. You just worry about getting dressed.”

“What, don’t want to help out with that part?” teases Danny as he undid the tie at the base of his neck. The Watchtower might have pretty nice quality, but any medical garb was going to be a little scratchy, and Danny is glad to have it off. He’s careful with his taped over IV port as he slides on the plain white shirt and then the well worn hoodie. It has a faded Nightwing logo and smells like Wally.

Something in Danny’s chest relaxes a little as he buries his face into the fabric and it nearly makes him sob.

“Danny?”

Danny just shakes his head.

“Oh, babe, it’s okay, I’m here. I have you.” Wally tosses the phone onto the bed and wraps Danny up into a hug. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been around—”

“Don’t, you were saving lives,” Danny says and tucks his face against Wally’s neck. “It’s what you needed to be doing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. I’ve officially been pulled off duty. My job right now is you.”

“I don’t want to take you away from anything important.”

“You aren’t. Babe, you’re why we’re all still here. Let yourself be cared for, okay? I promise if anything comes up that really needs my help I’ll go, but let me make you my priority,” Wally urges.

Danny closes his eyes. “I told myself I’d never ask that of you. I know what you are.”

“You aren’t, I’m offering. Please, babe, let me make you my priority.”

He wants to. Gods does he want to. He wants to go back home to their apartment and have Wally with him and just let the other take care of everything, just for a little bit, just until it stopped feeling like his insides were hollow. Just until he could be okay enough to lie and say that he was fine.

Just until then.

“Okay. I— yeah, okay. I think I need that right now,” Danny manages to admit.

“Thank you,” Wally whispers like it was Danny doing him the great service. “First act, let’s get you out of those pants.”

“You cad,” Danny gasps dramatically.

Wally rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now so Danny counts it as a win. “And get you into the sweatpants.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to debrief in sweats,” Danny says as he lets Wally help him finish changing. He’s a little less balanced in his feet than he’d like to be.

Okay, a lot less balanced.

Wally doesn’t even let him walk to the debrief, instead he insists on pushing Danny there in a wheelchair. Danny knows there’s no shame in needing a wheelchair, but it doesn’t help him be less frustrated at the way he feels weak down to his bones. Hell, he feels weak down to is core. At least he gets to move himself to a regular chair once they’re inside the conference room.

"Thank you for being willing to do this, Danny,” Wonder Woman says. She’s leaning forward, arms resting on the table, and offering a smile. At the table is a selection of other top tier members: Batman, Superman, a Green Lantern (Hal Jordan in this case), John Constantine, Zatanna, and, right next to Danny, Barry.

The Titans are off to the side, slightly behind the Dark members, in chairs that were obviously dragged into the room. Garfield gives Danny an enthusiastic thumbs up that almost makes him laugh.

“Of course. I get why there are questions,” Danny says instead.

“There are,” Superman agreed. “Now, as you aren’t a Justice League member and are in no way under any sort of investigation, this is going to be a bit informal. We’re just trying to make sure our report on recent events are as clear as possible.”

Danny huffs out a breath of air. His gaze darts over to Wally before dropping. “It’s a big more than that, isn’t it?”

“Kid?” Barry asks gently.

“You all want to know what I am, which is fair. If I could have, I would have told you.” Danny looks back at Wally again and gives a half hearted smile. “Sorry I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you?” Batman asks, though the rumble of words isn’t unkind.

A sour smile twists Danny’s lips. “Curses are like that. Aren't they, Laughing Magician?” Danny hears Constantine and sucks in a breath and steels himself to look up at him. “How much do you know about her? About Desiree?”

Constantine shakes his head. “Not much. It’s not wise to go digging into the affairs of a member of the Infinite Realms, even an ended one.”

“Speak normal for the rest of us,” Hal says. “A who of what?”

“Infinite realms. That means a sodding ghost,” Constantine snaps.

Barry scoffs. “Ghost’s aren’t real.”

“Boo,” Danny replies. His smile is slightly too wide.

“Not funny, Danny.”

Danny shrugs. “Not trying to be. I’m half ghost.”

“How is someone half ghost?” Hal asks.

“I’m like Schrödinger’s Cat,” Danny explains. He can’t help for for his gaze to flick over to where the Titans are sitting and find Wally’s eyes. “I’m still in the box, basically. I’m half alive and half dead. Both and neither. A balance.”

“A myth.” Constantine leans forward. He taps the butt of his unlit cigarette against the table. “Or so we always thought. You telling me that you’re a halfa?”

The question pulls Danny’s focus back to the main table of heroes. “Yep. One of three. Me, my godfather, and my clone.”

Superman clears his throat. “Ah, your clone?”

Danny just gives another shrug. “Shit gets weird when you’re a teenage vigilante.”

“Danny,” Batman says, and Danny can’t help but smile again because the man is clearly one step away from pinching the bridge of his nose like he does as Bruce when one of his children is driving him mad. “Start from the beginning. State your name for the record.”

“Danny Jasper Fenton.”

---

AN: Vote was in favor of splitting it up. I've got a chunk of the next part written, so hopefully I can get it finished up next week! Sorry if there are lots of issues, words and me are struggling atm.

Poor Danny is really struggling with things as his world has once again changed. And what will everyone think of him now...?

I no longer tag, instead you can subscribe to the masterpost.

#dp x dc #abson #quick death ship #quick death #danny/wally

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graysoncritic · 6 days

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A (Negative) Analysis of Tom Taylor's Nightwing Run - Who is Dick Grayson?

Introduction Who is Dick Grayson? What Went Wrong? Dick's Characterization What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon What Went Wrong? Bludhaven (Part 1, Part 2) What Went Wrong? Melinda Lin Grayson What Went Wrong? Bea Bennett What Went Wrong? Villains Conclusion Bibliography

When asked to describe Dick Grayson’s character, many will say he is good. He is Bruce Wayne’s light, the person he could have been had someone offered Bruce understanding and guidance after his trauma. Dick is a leader. A big brother. A mentor. He is someone people can look up to, someone others can trust. He is “The Heart of the DCU.”

(Williamson, Joshua, writer. Sampere, Daniel; Herbert, Jack; Camuncoli, Giuseppe; Sandoval, Rafa, illustrators. Dawn of the DCU. Dark Crisis on Infinite Earth no. 7, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp. 28)

Characters, much like real people, are more than just a trait. Jason Todd is more than “angry.” Bruce Wayne is more than just “brooding.” Tim Drake is more than just “smart.” Characters are multidimensional. They have multiple facets, some of which may contradict one another because characters, just like people, are not created out of mathematical equations where two plus two always equals four. Humans are emotional. Their being is informed by past experiences, biology, culture. The intricate combination of these vastly different factors leads to inconsistency in rationality that may not always be logical. Dick being “good” does not mean that Dick can’t be angry, that he can’t make mistakes, or that he can’t lash out or be unreasonable, especially when stressed. Dick being “good” does not mean he can’t brood, does not mean he can’t be suspicious, nor does it mean he will always like everyone. Dick being “good” does not mean he can’t be his own worst enemy, that he can’t be calculative and strategic, that he always needs to be upbeat, or that he can’t be the most intelligent person in the room.

(Grayson, Devin, writer. Zircher, Patch, illustrator. Slow Burn. Nightwing no 93, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2004. pp. 10-11)

Sam Humphries also demonstrated this during his brilliant story, The Untouchable. There, Dick’s relentless determination to save people from the Judge’s machinations grows so intense that it becomes self-destructive. The story demonstrates how Dick’s “goodness” comes from a form of toxic perfectionism that has been with him since he was a child — a perfectionism born of a low self-worth that eats at him from the inside out

(Humphries, Sam, writer. Janson, Klaus; Campbell, Jamal, illustrators. Ruthless. Nightwing: Rebirth no. 37, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2018. pp. 08)

Even the 2003 animated series Teen Titans understood that in trying to catch the bad guy — almost always Slade Wilson in the case of that show — Dick could sometimes go too far.

Dick’s goodness causes him to see himself as a danger to not just his loved ones, but everyone who stands near him. He carries the world on his shoulders, taking the blame for every tragedy and seeing every death as a personal failure. When pushed to its worst, Dick’s goodness becomes an obsession which pushes others away, leading to isolation as Dick’s entire existence narrows down to accomplishing one specific goal.

It is this reductive characterization of Dick – the idea that his one defining trait is that he is “good” – that leads many to misunderstand the appeal of his character. As I mentioned above, characters are multi-facet, and Dick is no exception. However, the ways in which Dick is multi-facet are very different from the ways in which most characters are multi-facet.

Please do not mistake what I am about to say by claiming these other characters are not complex. Or even that some of them might not subvert popular tropes. What I mean saying is that Dick’s complexity is demonstrated differently than what I believe most people are accustomed to.

For example, everyone knows Bruce Wayne keeps his feelings locked up inside. He compartmentalizes his emotions and his trauma in order to solve the puzzle put ahead of him. But everyone – characters and readers alike – understands Bruce is doing this. Everyone can tell that he is hiding something from others and keeping them at a distance. The reader is always aware of how Bruce’s trauma informs his actions, his interactions, and his thought process.

(Grayson, Devin; Barr, Mike W., writers. Davis, Alan; Robinson, Roger, illustrator. Procedure. Batman: Gotham Knights no. 25, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2002. pp. 20)

Take, for instance, Part One of Murderer/Fugitive. Although a major source of tension from the story surrounds the question of Bruce’s innocence, there’s never any question in the minds of the reader and the character that Bruce is hiding something. Tim Drake questions whether Bruce truly did kill Vesper Child and is hiding his motive, while Dick is certain of Bruce’s innocence and instead believes Bruce is hiding his alibi or the clues that would help them find the real murderer. Barbara Gordon, for her part, wavers between the two, but like Tim, Dick, and the reader, she is certain of one thing: Bruce Wayne is hiding something from her, from them… From us.

Similarly, Jason Todd’s anger comes from a place of hurt and a place of love, from insecurities and a need to prove himself. But like Bruce, all of that is clear to see. His anger and his hurt are simple to understand. Please, do not mistake this for me claiming that Jason is not a complex character — instead, I’m stating that his temperament, his trauma, and his actions are so interlinked that they are clear for the reader to see. His character, while rich, is more accessible. It does not take a lot of effort to know that Jason is angry because of what was done to him. It is easy to see that he is hurt because he equates Bruce’s love to the Joker’s death, and therefore sees Bruce’s failure to avenge him “proof” that Bruce does not love him as a son.

(Winick, Judd, writer. Battle, Eric, illustrator. All They Do is Watch Us Kill: Part 3: It Only Hurts When I Laugh. Batman no. 650, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2006. pp. 13) Dick, on the other hand, does not wear his emotions, his motivations, or his goals on his sleeve. Dick keeps his secrets not by constructing an impenetrable wall like Bruce, but through misdirection. This is why those who are unfamiliar with Dick misinterpret him so much. They take what is on the surface at face value because they do not have the character history to serve as context to understand what lies beneath As a Dick Grayson fan (From this moment forward will be referred to as Dick Grayson Fan A) said “good Dick writers teach readers how to read him and bad Dick writers just have that surface level interpretation.” (I was actually talking to her about this idea and how I’m presenting it in this essay. The example I gave was one she suggested after I asked if she could think of good moments that exemplified this idea.)

As an example, we can look at this moment from Grayson, in which Dick sucks a lollipop while receiving a mission assignment. Someone who is not familiar with Dick and is looking at Dick and Helena’s interaction might be easily fooled into thinking that Dick is the pretty, strong, but annoyingly childish and slightly dumb male character who contrasts the serious, intelligent, and highly competent woman. The characters’ expressions, actions, and the onomatopoeias are certainly leaning into that familiar trope.

(King, Tom; Seeley, Tim, writers. Janin, Mikel, illustrator. The Raid. Grayson no. 04, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2014. pp. 02) However, Dick Grayson fans know that when it comes to the mission, Dick is as serious as Batman himself. Highly intelligent, Dick is considered to by many the world’s second greatest detective (there are many instances in canon when he is referred to as such), making him more than just a pretty face who knows how to fight (It should be noted that in this tweet, writer Tom King also ranks Dick as the second best fighter in the Bat Family). Furthermore, context matters. Dick is deep undercover throughout the duration of Grayson, and this scene is set shortly after the death of one of the agents of the organization Dick has infiltrated. In other words, Dick is in a highly stressful situation without allies to provide him with back-up or emotional support.

His posturing in this scene, then, can be seen as an attempt to misguide and misdirect. He does not wish to let those around him – people he is not sure yet if he can trust – know the full extent of his capabilities or perceive any potential weaknesses in his value of human life. Positioning himself as the annoying and childish pretty boy who does not pay much attention to serious matters is a strategic choice that his fans readily pick up on.

That is not to say that Dick’s smiles are all lies. Rather, Dick’s upbeat nature is a natural aspect of his personality that he will exaggerate depending on the setting in order to keep his privacy. He is a natural performer, a showman, and so he utilizes misdirection to his advantage.

A classic example of Dick’s misdirection and how he is misinterpreted by others is how some would characterize him as an “attention seeker.” However, the term “attention seeker” has negative connotations as it implies someone who seeks the spotlight at the expense of others.

That is the opposite of who Dick is. But that’s not Dick is. As a mentor, a leader, and an older brother, Dick will often invite others to join the conversation. He pays attention to what they say, he strategizes based on their needs.

(Johns, Geoff; Wolfman, Marv, writers. Nauck, Todd, illustrator. The Brave and the Bold. Teen Titans no. 33, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2006. pp. 15)

Simply put, Dick is incredibly empathetic and always in tune with those around him. This is why he works so well as both a Bat and a Titan, and why his personality in each team is so distinct. As a Bat, Dick is often portrayed as cheerful, his bad puns are meant to cut the tension, the is the shoulder for his family to cry one; as a Titan, Dick is a leader, he is a strategist, he demands others take things seriously and will not tolerate slacking off, he is trying to instill good work ethics and ensure that the team dynamic stays in top shape.

As JL Bell writes in their essay Success in Stasis: Dick Grayson’s Thirty Years as a Boy Wonder for the book Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman explains, “in contrast to how Robin behaved with Batman. [Dick] is usually [the Titans’] serious leader.” (Bells, JL “Success in Stasis: Dick Grayson’s Thirty Years as a Boy Wonder.”Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman edited by Kristen L. Geaman, McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2015, pp. 22)

That is because Dick knows that when he is with his family, he needs to play one role, and when he is with his friends, he needs to play another. The Bats have their strengths, so Dick adjusts himself to play up on those strengths while also making up for its weakness. Same thing with the Titans.

Mark Waid perfectly exemplifies Dick’s adaptability when portraying him in his World’s Finest (2022) and World’s Finest: Teen Titans (2023). There, Dick brings levity to his work with Batman and Superman, keeping an upbeat attitude while still taking the job seriously.

(Waid, Mark, writer. Mora, Dan, illustrator. Manhunt. Batman/Superman: World’s Finest no. 14, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2023. pp. 07)

Yet, when he is with the Titans and feels the weight of leadership on his shoulders, he is more serious, being the one to get the Titans to focus on their objective, getting them to look at the big picture, while also making the most of their abilities as individuals and as a team.

(Waid, Mark, writer. Mora, Dan, illustrator. Team Spirit. Batman/Superman: World’s Finest no. 08, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp. 05)

So yes, Dick is a performer, a showman, but he is not “attention seeking.” In fact, his use of misdirection illustrates that Dick is a very private person. And how could he not be? While it is true that Dick grew up in the circus, after his parents’ death, he went to live with Bruce, and in doing so, was put into an intense amount of public scrutiny. The murders of John and Mary Grayson happened on a literal stage with dozens of people watching. As a result, Dick’s very private tragedy became a spectacle.

After the death of Dick’s parents, Dick isn’t allowed to disappear into anonymity. He is not afforded privacy to grieve. He is taken in by Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s most famous playboy, billionaire, philanthropic who is also a bit of a selfish airhead (at least, that is how the public perceives him), and as a result, Dick is subjected to an immense amount of public scrutiny, not just from the media, but also from Gotham’s elites, and even his peers at school. Not only that, as Robin, the Boy Wonder and the first ever sidekick, Dick also is put on the spotlight while also being aware of the necessity of keeping secrets.

As a result of having his tragedy broadcasted and having a new mission that requires secrecy, Dick becomes a very private person. He is not an open book; instead, he is meticulous about what he shares and he prevents people from looking at what is not of their business by using his showmanship.

Furthermore, Dick’s role as a performer who, as Joshua R Pangborn describes in his essay about the Robin costume, “experiences […] the full spectrum of emotions, each and every night, for the catharsis of others,” transforms him into a literal vehicle for emotional catharsis and empathy. (Pangborn, Joshua R “Fashioning Himself a Hero: Robin’s Costume and its Role in Shaping His Identity”Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman edited by Kristen L. Geaman, McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2015, pp. 42) In their essay, Bell argues that while Bruce Wayne embodied “the mid-century ideal of the American male,” who is always “in control of his feelings, not letting them overcome his judgment nor displaying them broadly,” Dick Grayson “can express deep emotions, not only his own but Bruce’s.” As such, Dick often acts as a sounding board for his family, friends, team, and romantic partners. As a performer, Dick embodies whatever persona is necessary to create a safe environment where others can process their emotions and achieve catharsis. (Bells, JL “Success in Stasis: Dick Grayson’s Thirty Years as a Boy Wonder.”Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman edited by Kristen L. Geaman, McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2015, pp. 12)

Dick's performance, then, comes not just from a desire for privacy but also from a deep place of empathy. It comes from a desire to help others work through their own stories. This is why he can step into other's narratives without overshadowing them. In fact, he’ll often elevate those characters by complimenting them and creating the circumstances needed for them to shine. As a performer, Dick is naturally adaptable and always willing to fill the role necessary to create the space required for others to work through their emotional needs.

But, as with everything, Dick’s performance is also a result of his destructive perfectionism. Dick equates “good” to “perfect.” He believes that he can only be wanted by Bruce if he is the perfect Robin, he can only be wanted by his friends if he is the perfect leader, he can only be wanted by his siblings if he is the perfect older brother, he can only be wanted by his partners if he is the perfect boyfriend. As Humphries’s The Untouchable demonstrates, because Dick was raised in an environment where failure could be fatal, he internalized these stakes to every aspect of his life.

(Humphries, Sam, writer. Janson, Klaus; Campbell, Jamal, illustrators. Ruthless. Nightwing: Rebirth no. 37, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2018.pp 20

And it doesn’t help that all of the people in Dick’s life do prove that assertion right. Everyone holds “the Heart of the DCU” to an impossible standard that, when Dick fails to live up to it, he is crucified and punished for it. If he tries to be perfect, he's told off for being the Golden Boy, but if he fails to be the Golden Boy, then he is told off because he let people down when they were relying on him. Ironically, this is done by characters in-universe real-world fans. As Dick Grayson Fan A pointed out in a discussion about depiction of Batman Family members killing their antagonists, “there's always this pressure to have Dick ~fall from grace~ and I do lowkey resent that. Dick should be allowed to be good, not punished for it.”

This creates an environment where Dick constantly needs to maintain perfection in order to be in everyone’s good graces. Failure is not met with understanding and comfort, but with punishment. No one expects him to fail, no one likes when he fails, no one forgives him when he fails. That also means that Dick doesn’t feel safe opening up about his insecurities because to do so would mean “proving” he cannot stay on the pedestal he’s been put on. And so, he is forced to perform the role of a “perfect good guy” by using misdirection so people won’t abandon him for being human (this was said during a very interesting discussion and addressed both canon and fanfic writers. There’s a lot that can be said about Dick’s parentification and how that is viewed in the context of fandom. This is not the essay for it, and, to be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure I’m the best person to open said discussion).

Taylor does not portray Dick as someone with this many layers. Taylor’s Dick is perfect simply because he is good. He is the perfect friend, who is always happy to support others. He is Barbara Gordon’s perfect boyfriend. Dick is the perfect older brother, the perfect son, perfect model citizen.

But by equating being “good” with being “perfect” without exploring the negative consequences that come from such pressures, Taylor robs Dick of the emotions that humanize him. In Taylor’s run, a good person will not be angry at their friends, will not be frustrated with their siblings, will never disagree with their romantic partner. This strips Dick of all of his nuances, and instead reduces him to a non-descriptive “everyman hero” with a limited emotional range whose only narrative purpose is to serve as a blank canvas for readers to project themselves into.

Simply put, Taylor is uninterested in writing Dick as a character because he does not see value in Dick for who he is. Nightwing #105, which removes Dick from its story in order to allow its readers to “be Nightwing” illustrates how Taylor and DC at large only value Dick his connections, not for who he is.

(Chen, Jess [jesswchen]. “Tweet Message.” 18 March 2023, https://twitter.com/jesswchen/status/1636971185782259716?s=20.)

Be Dick, and you can be good friends with Superman! You can be Batman’s son! You can be Batgirl’s boyfriend! Robin’s big brother! Flash’s best friend!

As a Dick Grayson fan, this feels insulting. I’m not saying Dick needs to be anyone’s favorite character, or that anyone even needs to like him. I’m not interested in dictating anyone’s taste. But to someone who loves Dick Grayson, it is insulting to think that those responsible for his stories fail to see his value. To Taylor, the person who, as the writer for both Nightwing and Titans, has the most control over Dick’s portrayal, Dick is nothing but a tool that will soon wear off its use.

In treating Dick as such, Taylor and DC send a clear message to those of who love Dick, and that message is that the things that make Dick special, the things that made us love him, do not matter.

For his near century long existence, Dick served as a stand in for those who feel othered in society. While I do not have the time to go into a gender studies and queer reading of Dick, it is notable that his character often spoke to many people who felt different. As Mary Borsellino’s 2006 essay “A lot like Robin if you close your eyes” Displacement of meaning in the Post-Modern Age explains:

The things which a Robin-like figure can contain, but which are cut off from being embodied by Robin himself, lose none of their importance simply because they are rejected by a restrictive, corporate-controlled status quo […] It's worth inspecting what was excised from Robin, and charting where these elements instead found articulation: in those from lower socioeconomic backgrounds; non-White people; young single parents; and HIV positive people. And, especially, girls and women (Borsellino, Mary “‘A lot like Robin if you close your eyes.’ Displacement of meaning in the Post-Modern Age, 2006)

While Borsellio’s essay focuses on the Robin mantle, as the creator of said mantle, such assertions can also be applied to Dick. In fact, Bell concurs with the idea that those who were othered have always took a preference to Dick when stating that “Robin’s status as the littlest guy in the fight increases the character’s appeal for some children, especially the ‘youngest and weakest.’” In other words, it is crucial to Dick’s character that he is not an “everyman hero.” He is not the hero of or beloved by the average individual, but rather by those who were ostracized by society.

Taylor’s writing exemplifies the “restrictive, corporate-controlled status quo” imposed by DC that Borsellino speaks of. His characterization is the manufactured image that removes Dick’s “socially deviant/rejected” qualities his fans loved about him so that he can be palatable to a more mainstream audience. (Bells, JL “Success in Stasis: Dick Grayson’s Thirty Years as a Boy Wonder.”Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman edited by Kristen L. Geaman, McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2015, pp. 11)

This, of course, is not necessarily new. As Mason Downey argues in their 2015 essay In Defense of Dick Grayson: Objectification, Sexuality, and Subtext, DC has often struggled between leaning into the audience Dick has and wanting to erase any “othering” elements from his character. As they point out:

The more sexual and idealized Dick was allowed to become, the more attention he got from female and queer fans, the more the industry had to work to combat the past anxieties revolving around the character. This resulted in more and more heteronormative romances for Dick on the page. We can’t grant Wertham’s fears any legitimacy, we can’t make these stories “for girls.” Writers did so in a few ways, some obvious, some less so. On the page, we had Dick’s deflection of female sexuality that he was not in control of, and we had a level of emotional posturing with relationships he was in control of. We had moments where we saw him manipulating with or being manipulated by sex. There were editorial pushes to lean into Dick’s popularity with women and queer men coupled with the simultaneous desire to not acknowledge or grant legitimacy to the fanbase he found in those demographics. This translated to more sexualized poses. More pin-up style spreads. Multiple bait-and-switch wedding, marriage, and relationship teases which turned out to be fakeouts or got written out. Long strings of female side characters were introduced exclusively to be love interests. Off the page, we had more concrete examples. We saw a lack of merchandise and lack of representation of him in other forms of media. There was a pervasive hesitancy in broaching his existence outside of the spheres of already established fans. For example, Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises featured Joseph Gordon-Levitt playing a character literally named Robin, who was invented for the film franchise rather than allowing Dick himself to exist in that cinematic universe. Dick Grayson is a character built upon one repeated mantra aimed at what eventually become two of his largest demographics, “Remember, this is not for you.”

(Downey, Mason “In Defense of Dick Grayson: Objectification, Sexuality, and Subtext” Women Write About Comics. December 2015)

What makes Taylor’s run unique is that in trying to have Dick tackle social issues such as homelessness and in trying to create a class commentary, Taylor attempts to create a progressive, albeit simplistic, veneer while erasing the important and “other-ing” aspects of Dick’s character that was so beloved by his fans.

This, I believe, is one of the many explanations why many of those who praise Taylor run claim that this is the first Nightwing run they ever enjoyed, while many (though admittedly, not all) those who have been longtime Dick Grayson fans feel betrayed and frustrated by the way their beloved character is being handled. Dick is currently being appropriated into a more mainstream, palatable hero. He is being taken from those who loved him and being scrubbed clean to be suitable for an audience who could not appreciate him for what he was, only for how his connections could give them a wish fulfillment fantasy. As another Dick Grayson fan expressed:

I see no heart in [Taylor’s] work, only soulless marketing. He sells himself as something good and work on his perfect public image and everyone who disagrees is wrong and it gets on my nerves like nothing else. […] I wouldn't be as salt[y] if Taylor was genuinely trying to writing something good. I don't have the heart to [be salty] at someone working with passion, even if I don't like it.

(Henceforth referred to as Dick Grayson Fan B... This was actually said during a discussion in which we expressed how we wish we could be as excited about Taylor’s run as many others are.)

#nightwing #dick grayson #anti tom taylor

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