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powerosewaterpuff · 1 year

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Dean and Sam AU with a bigger age gap between the brothers

Warning, if you are a freak wincest shipper get away from me and this blog I do not want you here and I never will! Bye!

anyways these are a few headcanons that came into my head instead of studying for my midterm which is a common theme. once again they are brothers and they also have a poignant parent-child relationship but in this little AU they have a bigger age gap like 7 years in-between them. anyways heres some random ideas enjoy and yes the grammar is awful its alright

dean remembers when his father backhanded him when he was 15, he had done it so many times before that dean didn't even react, not even a flinch. but sam was watching, sam was fucking watching. john had never hurt dean in front of sam, because dean begged him not to, that sam would not have to see it and dean wouldn't make a single noise and he wouldn't misbehave again. this time john was to blearily drunk out of his mind with tequila running through his veins when he knocked dean to the floor. dean cant look at sam, he cant. he wants to scream out of rage when sam runs over to him and fucking shields him, this tiny little brother, who still has rosy cheeks and tiny arms curled around dean's head pressing him against sams little chest that is heaving in panic. dean was useless, a useless sack of shit who couldnt protect his baby whose trying to protect him from the man looming over them. sam, who has tears running down his face (dean is convinced he’s dying, he has never felt a pressing pain like this in his chest before from the second he saw sam’s eyes glisten with tears), turns to their father and silently stares at him. john moves, ever so slightly and dean snaps out of the shocked haze he was in and grabs sam, pulling him down to his chest and curling around him. he presses his face into sams hair, roughly pressing a kiss to his head trying in his pathetic state to comfort his baby. dean's eyes still turn up and glare at his father. not in front of sam not in front of fucking sam we had a deal and this was not fucking it.

john stumbles back, hastily trudging out of the motel room. they stay in this position, curled around each other, holding on tightly trying to hold the other together in a misaligned attempt to protect. it wasn’t until the growling of the impala began to fade into the distance did sam shift in deans hold. he whispers in this little soft voice that is trying so hard not to cry it makes dean tear up; dean r you ok? do u want ice dee? dean cant stand it, he cant. he scoops sam up and situates him on the bed them kisses both of his cheeks, his slip of a nose and his forehead. he presses his face into sam’s little pudgy stomach and holds him, holds his baby close to him. he wants to say hes fine, the words gurgling in his throat but somehow unable to come out. the only thing able to crawl out his tightening throat was sammy. sammy sammy im so sorry sammy

eventually he pulls away and pushes sam's fringes out of his face and wants to break the lamp to his left when he sees the worry shining so brazenly in sam’s eyes. he whispers that hes okay, that he doesnt have to be scared. dad will never do that to him, do you understand that? its ok sammy. sam possibly looks even MORE distraught and begins babbling abt how hes worried abt dean what if daddy does it to you again dean? does ur cheek hurt u didnt answer me dee, im sorry.

dean pulls his kid up, and stumbles over to the kitchenette to bring a pack of frozen peas that ached when they came into contact with his now swollen bruise. he presses another kiss to sams thankfully untouched cheek. he keeps reassuring sam, that dean is fine his cheek is fine, everything is okay. do u know why im okay sammy? bc ur here with me. I have my little buddy here and thats all I need, isnt it. but sammy, sweetheart, if daddy ever does this to you and im not here, you tell me? do u understand me bud? you have to tell me. sam huffs asking why its ok for dean to get hit but its a big deal if he does. dean scoffs softly, (sam doesnt know the extent dean would kill himself for him.)

dean mumbles that sam is like a little angel and sam rolls his eyes but dean urges him to listen. he says the day sam was born it was to bless dean with an angel, and now he has it and his job is to protect this little angel. sam doesnt believe him for one minute but feels so so warm and protected with dean speaking to him like this, softly without a hint of teasing but all this honey tenderness that felt like it had sam cocooned in its eternal glow. sam leans forward gently, and gave the most gentle kiss to deans bruised cheek and said dean always does that when he gets hurt. dean cant help but cuddle closer to his brother while he scoots onto the counter, curling his whole body around sam, and not for the first time wishing he could just hide him in his aortas and vena cava's so nothing could hurt him.

dean cheers like crazy at sammy's soccer games. he cant help it bc look at his fucking boy go! sam has always been fast, able to out run and flip through anything. he’s the smallest one on the soccer team but he weaves and ducks through everyone, scoring three goals consecutively and absolutely pissing everyone off. dean would whoop and cheer while sammy danced around after scoring a goal. that’s my boy did you see my boy?

when sam was around 3 and dean was 10, sam became obsessed with sumo wrestling bc it was the only thing playing on the sports channel at 12 am and sam thought it was the absolutely coolest thing he had ever witnessed in his three years of living. he would beg and prod at dean to wrestle with him and dean took it as an opportunity to show his little brother a little well needed big brother humility. dean never lets sam win, he doesnt want it to go to his head! it becomes an ironic ritual even when sam is 10 and dean is 17 and their wrestling on the ratty couch of their rented apartment, or when sam is 12 and dean is 19 with sam pouncing on deans back and declaring a sumo wrestle in which dean calls him a little goddamn cheater and they wrestle throughout bobby's living room. it wans and ebbs and flows throughout the years but once a sumo wrestle was declared one cannot back down.

they were always very cuddly growing up. deans chick flick shit really only applied to others, not exactly sammy (no matter how much dean insisted upon it). when sammy was a baby all dean wanted to do was cuddle and coo at how cute sam was, to just feel his warmth like a soft quilt on his own small chest. a lot of times in motels they had to sleep on the same bed, which always ended up in their limbs tangled together in a warbled mess sam becoming dean and dean becoming sam. an endless continuum of a person split in two yet somehow still a conjoined whole. an infinity sign. two loops forever intertwined by a single crossing that could thin and stretch but was forever unbreakable. touch was always a crucial part of their brotherly relationship as children, a critical reassurance of existence. sam’s baby hand curled around firmly in deans own. dean sprinkling sam’s face in kisses, his little nose and on his eyes lids, on top of his downy hair and over his brow then twice on each cheek, each rose coloured cherub cheek that made dean want to cry bc that was his baby (dean was sams motherfatherbrother after all). he would tickle sammys armpits and press kisses into his cheeks while sam giggled and laughed. im going to eat these cheeks, im gonna eat it im gonna eat it! deanieee deannn! the world could rise and set, but dean was happy.

dean remembers the time they got kidnapped by a cultist group when they were younger. dean--a wild bull of an 18 year old and sam a little 11-12 year old and he’s too young and too small and dean hates his father for doing this to them sometimes, for doing this to sam.

they approach sam and dean is screaming his voice hoarse, because they cannot touch his brother, dean would rather fucking die, he takes the beatings but firmly stays in front of sam, crawling back when he is thrown against the wall, bc that fear in his brothers eyes is so much worse than the broken ribs grating from the inside of his chest. that fear has him in a chokehold bc if his brother isnt okay then dean isnt okay and his brother has to be okay. if he isnt okay then what is the worth of being okay, what is the worth of fucking being if sam isnt okay. john manages to reach them and dean is barely breathing but he sees a bruises forming on sam and he feels like crying, hes in the back, deliriously slurring that sam needs to be taken care of while their father grips the wheel, jaw locked with eyes numbingly focused on the road. sam is quietly crying and reassuring him that HE is okay but dean isnt and dean needs the help, then dean murmurs that sam is bruised, that his little baby brother is bruised and he needs an icepack, that sammy, kiddo, please dont cry, you know how much it hurts me when you cry.

dean, with shaky arms that arent quite working pulls his brother into a hug, trying to soothe him while he coughs up blood and sam begins to get into hysterics and john just keeps driving and driving.

john leaves them at bobby’s, and bobby whose face goes pale and feels the irresistible urge to lunge forward and snuff the life out of john winchester’s lungs. to watch that fucking man feel the suffocating hell that he feels when he sees dean keeping his brother close, insisting that bobby check him first, that he will not get checked if sam isn’t.

bobby tries his fucking best to reason with dean but even through delusional and delirious pain he is insisting with this dazed but somehow steely gleam in his gaze that sam needs to be taken care of first. sam even tries to reason but dean shushes him quietly, running a battered hand through his unruly hair and keeps his eyes on bobby who rues the day he got to know the winchesters. he comes back with a few icepacks and band-aids galore for sam who insists he can do it on his own. dean visibly relaxes, tension releasing ever so slightly from his shoulders and finally lets bobby help him but his eyes are focused on sam, quietly and hoarsely instructing him on how to place the icepack properly, that he needs to wipe that cut with alcohol. at one point he tries (fails) to get up to help sam apply to alcohol but bobby pushes him firmly back against the bed, and sam considers leaving the room so dean doesnt have to focus on him. dean practically yelps a hoarse no, that he'll shut the fuck up fine but sammy please stay in the room ok? sam huffs but nods. jaw tight and eyes drilling holes into the wooden floor beneath him.

when dean is bandaged and laying down in the bed, he stretches a hand out, waving for sam to come over when he sees sammy’s little head pop into the room. sam approaches the bed gingerly, a vengeful anger at those people that hurt his brother searing his eyes. dean insists on sitting up despite the needless and stupid protests from sam, letting his tightly wrapped hand cup his little brothers face decorated with little band-aids. dean pulls his brother into a half hug, with sams forehead pressed against his chest. sam snakes his arms around his brother, gently as to not agitate the wounds. sam doesnt even realize until a few seconds into the hug that dean is shaking, his head shoots up fearing the worst but deans face is twisted in rueful disdain, regret and anger. he places a kiss onto sams springy curls, whispering that if this happens again, do not argue with dean abt getting taken care of first. sam’s chest puffs up and he spits out in an incredulous tone that what dean just said was the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. dean does not rise to the bait, simply stating that this will not happen again, but if it does, sam gets help first for himself and there is no debate. do you understand sammy? no fucking debate.

sam stays quiet, and dean doesnt push for an answer, just holds him brother to him as he reassures himself that he’s alivealivealive and life is still worth living. next day, dean hovers around sam even though he needs rest but what he thinks he needs is reassurance that his brother is ok, alive and well. sam keeps trying to tell him that hes fine but dean just shakes his head and quietly watches him. john comes back in five days and says its time to go, bobby raises hell but its hard to raise hell against a man who thrived in it. john just tells his boys to get in the back of the impala and that they were going, okay? sam wants to argue and fire is swirling in his tongue, dean gives a yessir and tells sam to go grab deans stuff from upstairs. the look dean gives him is undebatable, one that means sam has to stand down, for dean. once they sit in the back of the impala, their dad says in this quiet voice that sam does not like one bit that they are going to stay in north carolina for a while so get comfortable. dean grabs an old blanket from bellow his seat and wraps it around sam wordlessly, pulling him closer to dean. he asks if sam wants some music to sleep. sam, who just wants to light this stupid impala on fire and watch this life he hates burn into the ashes of the night, nods. he nods and curls up next to dean who places the old headphones on his head attached to the beat up barely working walkman that can only play a loop of three songs. everybody wants to rule the world by tears for fear. africa by toto. and black dog by led zeppelin. sam starts to fall asleep to everybody wants to rule to world with dean turning up the volume while john works up a rabid rant abt the stupidity of their misstep in getting caught. dean can take it, he would prefer sam stay peacefully sleeping for this part though.

sometimes - no all the time, sam is the only thing that keeps dean going. when hes tired down to the essence of his bones, sam will walk in from school, and gush over a book he was reading or insistent they play basketball out in the courtyard bc jeremy showed me some moves i can fucking beat you dean! or when sammy was so little and young and used to give deans drawings and sloppily made bracelets with tight hugs and a whisper of how much he loved dean. he once told dean when he was five and dean was around 12 that he didnt need john, not as long as he had dean. dean gave him a pat and a big smile but cried himself hoarse in the bathroom after that, then came out and saw sam sleepily trying to keep his eyes open whilst reading a childrens book and crushed him into a hug.

when sam openly with no conditions or accusations told him that he loved dean, that dean was the best big brother in the world, dean knew that only sam could ever love him unconditionally, that sam deserved everything in this world and he would ensure that sam had everything he could have even if he wanted to keep him close to his chest at all times. sammy doesnt complain and dean hates it, he hates that sammy isnt complaining abt the shit he has to go through. when they get older and sammy does start to bitch and complain its never towards dean, its always towards their father. sammy could be a little pain in the ass, complaining abt mundane shit like fucking boredom and how he deserved to go on hunts or how hunts were awful whatever he decided that day or year). but never once did he complain abt the food he had to eat, or the clothing he had to wear or the shoes that were tearing at the seams. sam would always thank dean, even if the only thing he had breakfast lunch and dinner was fucking coco puffs.

dean would then take matters into his own hands (he had always been a natural pickpocket) and would watch as sam got proper food the next day. he didnt care that his stomach was aching from the hunger, it would just have to be satisfied with sammy being able to stay healthy. sam would quietly say that dean should eat too, and when dean started to spill out hastily made fucking lies sam would start to beg that dean eat, dean assured him that he'll eat after dont worry sammy. (sam intentionally left stuff on his plate bc dean would not go get smth to eat and he knew dean ate sams leftovers). dean continues to make sure sammy survives, but he worries. he worries so much because dad didnt leave enough money and the motel doesnt have heating and sammy is so skinny, so fucking skinny that the wind would blow him over if he stood outside too long enough. they dont have money for haircuts so dean will always do sammy's hair, and sam did whine and moan and they’d get into little petty fights bc you cut too much u ass, but sam would always thank dean at the end of it, giving his brothe hug. sam didnt know what dean would do so that sam would just happily hug him like that for the rest of his days, the things dean would endure if that was what he had to do to gain that.

(Again this is just a random smattering of headcanons i wrote late at night with nothing better to do so enjoy! I’m arab and I tend to project our family customs and affection habits onto others. we are incredibly affectionate with family with constant touch and words of reassurance being prominent so i tried to show that with the boys here esp bc they have a bigger age gap meaning dean feels even more like a parent. this is NOT gencest or wincest or incest they are brothers. point blank do not argue with me. just bc u ppl arent used to close family dynamics where love is affectionate and that affection not weird and disgusting doesnt mean the rest of us are like that. on a lighter note again the grammar is ass idc this isnt one of my uni essays)

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powerosewaterpuff · 2 years

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dick grayson is a great cook fight me

you can take dick being a good no acc SPECTACULAR cook out of my cold dead hands. literally, I can envision that is the way that he reconnects with his culture as many of us immigrants do, and he loves to engorge his family with his food. whether it be steaming ashak for damian when he comes home from school. an old dish that he learned from his mother, who would tear up at the sight of it. as she murmured it was the only dish she could remember her late mother teaching her, and the only dish she really could ever master she'd say with a soft giggle, wiping away the dewy tears. he remembered her saying with that smooth voice that felt like pouring warm honey over your heart that she is so proud of her bachem, that his deceased maternal grandmother hailed all the way from central Afghanistan (Hazargai his mother had said, in a distant memory, that her mother was hazara) would be so proud that he presents her food with pure pride. He feels that pride while he watches damian light up in the most wonderful ways at the ashak, thanking dick softly in that voice he holds so tightly to his chest, the little voice of the child he truly was. all dick can only think about how proud he is of his bachem.

whether it be heating the paprika soup his father used to make on celebratory days after rubbing jason's back as he heaves and sobs, as he begs for forgiveness he believes he has to earn from dick, to please love him. accept him. and dick holds his brother, oh so big but yet so fucking small against his chest, wiping jason's tears and murmuring softly that there is nothing to forgive. that jason is his baby brother, that he loves him more than his heart can hold. he helps jason up and seats him on a cushioned stool by his little kitchen, cramped just like the trailer used to be, and for some reason, it always filled dick with comfort (the manor was too vast, too big, and daunting for a slip of a thing like him). jason would slump against the counter, watching dick with mournful eyes that made dick want to start crying, eyes that begged not to be left alone, that begged for his older brother to save him. he places a little basket of ingredients next to jason, and decrees he shall be his ingredient bearer. jason thinks this is fucking stupid but dick pays him no mind as he stretches a hand out for an onion. the slicing, dicing, and stirring begin as dick feels old suddenly, so old because hadn't he watched his father do this a thousand times, with dick sitting next to him like jason was doing now. odd how time has a way of making you feel scrubbed raw yet ancient beyond belief. and when he gently hands jason the steaming bowl of soup, amalgamated with the spices and hearty flavors his father used to gush about when he found them in the marketplace because he could make one of dick’s favourite romani dishes. jason picks up a spoon and begins to sip, and dick takes that as his sign to start sipping as well with the silence of the night covering them in a soft blanket. all dick can think of is how much he adores his pral

whether it be in the early morning when dick himself is barely awake when tim comes stumbling in with bags under his eyes, and barely cohesive. when he slumps down into a chair and curls his arms around his head, dick is already up snatching ingredients for a specific batter of blinis his father used to make, which was dick’s mother's favourite as she chattered on about how it was like her aunt's blinis back in romania. dick also slyly pulls out the espresso machine to make caffe d’orzo and tim would be none the wiser. tim begins to actually wake up a bit when a fresh plate of blini sitting in front of him with smetana smeared on top with a steaming cup of what tim hoped to be coffee but dick knew better. tim looks up at dick with that look that makes dick see double; the little tim who had stars brimming in his eyes with a quick mouth but a polite rigidness that made dick want to bundle him up and hold him tight to his chest, but also the older tim with that soft bitterness that encases him wouldn't allow that. and dick didn't deserve it anyway not for the pain he caused tim, (he had just wanted to give him the chances he never had but he fucked up-fucked up so beyond repair it hurts). but for right now, with tim giving him a sleepy smile and a mumbled thank you whilst dick gives him a soft kiss on the forehead, all dick could think about is how over the moon he is to be with his little frate.

whether it be on the cusp of dusk as the evening rolls in with cass and dick standing side by side in his kitchen with flour sprinkled over their little aprons and hair. dick was supposed to take cass home after her ballet but when she silently put her head on his shoulder, nuzzling softly into his shoulder blade and murmured that she missed him. dick immediately takes a right and starts driving to his apartment instead, feeling warm when he sees his little sister give the tiniest little smile. he went through all the warms meals his father's prozia used to coax him into eating whilst the snow breezed outside of her cucina while the music crooned. hence why dick began pulling out the anise extract, the dry yeast, and the sugar then ushered cass over to teach her how to braid the dough. he starts playing the stylings of esma redzepova because he can feel when silence becomes too much for cass, when silence deafens her ears and she craves for soft noise that clamors around her like a shawl of safety (maybe he also does it for himself. maybe it's because esma redzepova reminds him of when they used to have laundry day in the circus, where her voice would spin circles around his mind and mingle with his fathers as john grayson danced circles around mary grayson, always finding ways to make her laugh). once the timer dings and they pull out the hefty loaves of bread as the moon begins to rise and the sun says farewell, cass and dick snuggle up on the couch. all dick can think about is how much sorellina means to him. whether it be when bruce has bandages upon bandages and the bags under his eyes are dragging him down, and a little dick creeps into the room, a stale mess with clothes strewn everywhere and crumpled bedsheets. he crawls onto the bed while balancing a small plate of dried apricot slices and a cup of chao, placing it delicately on his lap while handing bruce the cup. a silent treaty of peace, a soothing balm to try to heal all that is painful. dick holds a dried apricot and pressed it to bruce's mouth, quietly imploring him to eat something. bruce would look at him, with an unreadable emotion swirling through his eyes as he took a bite and leaned over to press dick closer to his side. they eat their apricots in silence, and bruce sips the tea that dick had made him with some of alfred’s help. bruce presses a kiss to dicks messy hair, hoarsely whispering a thank you. all dick can really think about is that he loves his papo. (I made food with my mom last night and I just had to write this it was an innate urge and yes there r no capitals is on purpose I know grammar I promise)

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powerosewaterpuff · 2 years

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Hello welcome my ADHD themed gameshow, "So you were holding it literally moments ago but now it's gone" the where YOU look for whatever you were just holding while going increasingly mad

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powerosewaterpuff · 2 years

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i think i’ve established how i wanna write my older brother jason arkham knight fic. i wanna make it a fully fledged series but i wanna start simple with just goodnight calls from dick everyday to jason who is trying to adjust to being red hood after being the arkham knight and his isolation + deteriorating mental health BUT EVERY NIGHT AT THE SAME TIME DICK CALLS HIM TO TELL HIM ABT HIS DAY AND TELL HIM GOODNIGHT BC DICK MISSES HIS BROTHER OK? HE MISSES HIS OLDER BROTHER AND HE WANTS TO MAKE SURE HES OK EVEN IF BRUCE IS BEING STUPID AND JASON RLLY FUCKING APPRECIATES IT AND LOVES HIS LITTLE BROTHER SO MUCH OK? i’m going to do some outlining then i’m publishing it on my ao3 like that’s it i have to this idea is too good to waste it. i rly wanna make this into a fully fledged series bc i feel it has a lot of potential so yk we’ll seeeee!! (now excuse me as i go watch some real housewives)

#arkham knight #batman arkham games #jason todd #dick grayson #dick grayson is a ray of sunshine #he adores his older brother and misses him and isn’t afraid to say it #jason wants to bundle his little brother in a blanket and protect him from anyone and anything #goodnight calls #fanfic idea #ao3 #i might post it both on tumblr and ao3 #red hood #robin age reversal #reverse robin au #dick grayson is robin

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powerosewaterpuff · 2 years

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me when i have an idea yk write older brother jason but as the arkham knight. literally i’m so tempted to open my notes and write a 40k fanfic of jason being the oldest and dick being after him and jason just loves his little brother so much and when he becomes the arkham knight even when his mission is focused on killing batman, literally he will protect dick at any cost at any time. (also dick would be significantly younger in this version bc why not like hes robin). literally i want to write it so bad stop i’m gonna revitalize my ao3 acct for this its itching my brain

#jason todd #batfam #dick grayson #arkham knight #reverse robin au #dick grayson is robin #he’s tiny and he will fight batman in order to protect jason #tbh idk where #tim drake #fits in this someone give me ideas #no tim and barbara pairing bc ew ew ew #batman arkham games

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powerosewaterpuff · 2 years

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there aren’t enough jason is the oldest brother au’s and now i’m going to make them. this is a alternation of my au where jason is the oldest but in this specific au dick was robin first instead of jason, and he meets 14 year old jason todd in crime alley and they become brothers. jason literally looks at this little 9 about to be 10 year old and is like why the actual fuck are you not home rn? you need to go home and sleep it’s past ur bedtime. have u been doing it homework? literally jason is like if the fucking batman doesn’t take care of this kid then i will, and just adopts this kid as his little brother. (dw this is a good parent bruce au bc canon bruce is a piece of shit and i hate him) so this is a snippet of that bc i’m so fucking bored. also batcest shippers are disgusting and i need u to not interact or follow me bc ew. fucking ew. THEY ARE SIBLINGS. SIBLINGS. anyways here’s a little snippet!

Jason was counting the amount of change he had socked away from countless pickpockets when he heard little footsteps tiptoe over the lid of the overfilled dumpster next to him. He glanced up, and couldn’t help but give a crooked smile as the tiny mesh of obtusely bright colours gave him an enthusiastic wave.

“Jay!” Robin exclaimed, hopping off of the lid and into Jason’s arms, no matter the dirt and grime that coated Jason like a second layer of skin. He never knew how Robin could stand hugging him, it was like hugging a mangy dog made up of knobbly bones and excitable fleas. Yet, without fail, Robin would curl into his arms and Jason felt like he had the only family he could ever dream of wrapped around his arms.

Jason gave Robin’s hair a little ruffle as he slipped his cigarette out of his mouth, pressing it against the jagged bricks behind him to put it out. He never really liked smoking in front of Robin, the kid was far too polite to vocalize his dislike but he could tell from the way his nose scrunched that it was an issue.

“Guess what happened today?” Robin hummed, biting down on his lower lip in excitement with his barely contained energy seeking through. Jason propped a hand onto his knee and raised a brow questioningly, with that Robin went off on his energetic little spiel.

“I got an A+ on the test! The one you helped me study for last week! I spent all night looking at those little cue cards, the ones from Sylvester’s Stationary? I had all your notes written on them and I just kept droning, on, and on, and on to get it all to stick in my head! Mr. Jansen thinks I cheated! Can you believe that? He thinks there’s no way I could get an A+, that he even reported me to the office! I had to do a redo test right in front of them and I still got an A+! Ha! Take that Mr. Jansen!”

Jason has concluded a long time ago that story time with Robin was the best part of his days. He could be battered and bruised but still smile when the little twerp went on about his day at school. It made him ache a bit, just a smidge, because he wanted to be there with him. He wanted to be at school with his little brother, cackling at teachers and pulling all-nighters for tests. It was a silly dream, an unachievable image that kept him warm when the mounds of snow threatened to freeze his veins. He would just imagine this silly little dream where he had bedsheets, food, warmth and a little brother in tow that lightened up all his minutes.

Robin kept chatting, getting more animated by the minute as Jason interjected a few snide comments here and there to tease him. It was hilarious to watch Robin wag his little finger and tell Jason to knock it off. Robin was just so tiny. Jason couldn’t fathom how Batman could have the conscience to send this child to face the dirty underbelly of Gotham every night. Jason knew if he saw the Bat, he’d punch him. He would lose, obviously, and break a few fingers but he wanted to do it nonetheless. He wanted to shake that stupid fucking Bat and tell him he needed to keep that child safe. That little spritz of fucking sunshine needed to be focusing on school, not roundhouse kicking mafia grunts in Crime Alley so that they would stop hurting some street kid who was going to run off with their hubcaps.

“Jay, where are you going to sleep tonight?” Robin murmured softly as he began to unfurl himself from the ground after a while.

“Where I always do,” Jason muttered, because he knew this game that Robin played. He would try so desperately to get Jason to get off the street, because he swore that he knew someone who would take him in. Jason would scoff at Robins innocence. Once again, who let this kid wander around unsupervised?

Robin would ask this question, in hopes that Jason would concede and follow him, but he never did. It was an idiotic matter of dull pride and an untrustworthy nature that has been sown within the fabrics of his skin. No one was safe. Fucking no one, especially not adults that presumably were alright with a child running around playing superhero. Jason knew better than that, even if Robin didn’t. It was fine, he didn’t want Robin to end up like him anyways. A cynical husk of a person, a ragged little gnat desperate to survive on the scarps he could scour. It was fucking embarrassing, frankly. It was embarrassing that the kid he now had to admit, he viewed as a little brother, was offering to take care of him.

“Is everything alright with you? Everything okay at home?” Jason questioned lowly. He has to ask, it would gnaw at him all night if he didn’t. It was a constant. Robin would ask where he was staying and Jason would ask if where Robin was staying was safe. It was a ritual of theirs. A constant.

Robin gave a little nod and smiled that bright grin, “I’m fine, Jay!”

He ran into Jason for one more hug, and Jason curled his arms around him tightly, pressing his cheek onto Robin’s fluffed hair.

“ Please stay safe, Jason. Promise me,” Robin huffed, peering up at him with those oddly expressive white lenses. Jason didn’t say anything, he would never make promises he couldn’t give to him but rather gave a rueful smile. He’s trying, at the very least. He could never promise, though. It would just be a lie.

They stood like that for a minute, two brothers enclosed in a hug. Then, a little beeper went off and the little bird was swinging from building to building, a hole of an unattended promise weighing on his mind

this is kinda awful but i needed to vomit this idea out, i might cultivate it into a story on ao3 who knows but yeah that’s all for me i’ve gotten invested back into the batfam so get ready for some more stuff! i’ve got so much shit in my drafts oh my god

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powerosewaterpuff · 2 years

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*gives you this* happy halloween

#jason todd #dc comics #batfam #red hood #reblog the shit out of this

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powerosewaterpuff · 2 years

Text

*gives you this* happy halloween

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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

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YO ITS ME AGAIN , so um , some fear gas content in your au please , like fear gased dick and big bro jason comfort him

i genuinely have no excuse as to why this is so late, but oh my god school has been up my ass lately and i haven’t been able to get back into the groove of writing so I took this as an opportunity to build on that a bit. so tysm for the prompt! i rlly rly appreciate it hehe and again this had no excuse to be as late as it was ngl. but again this is my robin reversal au with jason being the oldest (i cant think of a good early hero name though ugh!) and dick being younger than him so enjoy! also so dick isn’t officially robin (he only does that when jason dies), but the persona still exists and he will join on major missions but bruce still has him in training so casual patrols are a no unless they have no other option for back up yk?

tw// there’s a slight mention of needles! it’s super short but i wanna be on the safe side as well as mild mention of cuts and scratches!

it took prodding. begging. and absolutely pleading to get bruce to agree to let jason and dick patrol together on their own. dick and or robin was not a constant on patrols with jason and bruce, as bruce wanted to ensure dick was fully equppied and trained before rushing into the field. it didn’t matter how much dick whined, or complained, or did as twice as many flipping kicks in training, the answer was always a solid no unless supervised or it was necessary. so it was a massive stretch to assume that bruce would agree to let them patrol together. they were practically in shock as bruce gave a nod after a few moments of silence. he even surprised himself. maybe it was the puppy eyed stare (mostly dick), or the reassurances that alfred would be on their comms the entire time, or even the full promise by jason that everything would be alright, but something made bruce say yes. more field training would be more than beneficial for dick anyways, (and that bright smile his youngest gave him and tight squeeze of a hug from his eldest didn’t hurt either).

the only promise jason was going to be able to fulfil was that scarecrow was going to rue the fucking day he decided to rear his ugly face out of arkham. it didn’t matter that bruce was beating the living shit out of him, holding no punches. jason was still brimming with rage. he hopped rooftop to rooftop, whipping his head around wildly as he searched for a fear gassed blur of neon colours. he wished he had been fucking a nanosecond faster, to reach out and pull dick from the blast of fear gas that swam through his nose and induced him in this fucking crazed frenzy. dick had just taken off his mask, right as jason was telling him to wait before bruce gave them the signal, and now jason was scouring the streets of gotham trying to find his brother. (he was going to fucking break scarecrow’s face, if bruce hadn’t already)

jason’s life was never one attributed with luck, it seemed like every possible slot in his pile was stacked firmly against him. except for when out of the corner of his vision he saw a stumbling mesh of a yellow cape climb onto a roof to his left. jason, took this as his initiative to attempt to stealthily sneak up next to dick, using his dark costume as an advantage.

he crept gently over to the building as he saw dick stumble onto his knees and he winced a bit as blood began to trickle down dick’s leg from the gashes beginning to form. dick was looking around wildly, almost in a desperate search for something. now, jason would’ve waited. he should’ve waited. bruce has drilled into his mind that dealing with victims of fear gas had to be done as meticulously and carefully as possible. dick shouldn’t have been any different, jason was able to hold to hold himself back. or he should’ve been able to.

it wasn’t until he saw dick scream out for his mother in a guttural rasp and leap towards the railings of the rooftop, did jason feel his legs take off as he stretched out, and managed to secure an arm around dick firmly. dick screeched even louder, wailing for his mother as he dug his nails into jason’s arms. jason gritted his teeth tightly but held on, because fuck that hurt. dick struggled and pushed, stamping his foot against jason’s leg and attempting to squirm out of his hold. but jason held on.

jason began attempting to reason with dick, he leaned his head down and gently placed it against dick’s. he murmured a bunch of fucking nothing as dick sobbed his throat raw. jason leaned closer to dick’s ear as dick began to shake in fear rather than anger and shut his eyes tight.

“dick? it’s jason, it’s just me. we’re on some fucking rooftop somewhere, and you are safe. okay? i’m holding you, and you’re safe, nothing is going to happen. bruce is gonna be here soon, and everything is going to be okay. i know you’re seeing god knows what, but i’m gonna get you out of this alright? i-i promise.”

jason couldn’t say he wasn’t dumbfounded when dick stopped angrily squirming around and began pressing his face into jason’s chest, with fat tears streaming down his face as he let out a wet sob. jason hesitantly wrapped his slightly bleeding arms around dick even tighter, curling up around him as he tried to push out the sound of dick’s sobs. he was never exactly good at dealing with dicks tears, he hated them so fucking much.

it didn’t take long for batman to arrive on the scene, but it was a scene he didn’t exactly like. his oldest son was cradling his youngest son as he heaved and sobbed. bruce silently stalked over, tapping jason on the shoulder as he waved his hands quietly, indicating that he could take dick off of his hands. jason was, not surprisingly, hesitant. (that untrustful hesitance was something, no matter how far jason did with his recovery, would always exist. that need to protect himself, or anyone he could care about no matter who it was against. that deeply rooted and innate need for self preservation, it marred jason’s soul with broad brush strokes. fading, but never leaving. )

jason almost shook himself into realization, realizing it was batman who was standing in front of him, and not someone of possible harm. he slowly unfurled his arms around dick, but was once again left dumbfounded when dick gripped onto the back of his uniform even tighter. the once muffled sobs got louder as dick desperately tried to hold onto jason. jason felt bruce’s stare, fucking digging into him, but he found himself not caring as he quickly curled back around dick. rocking back and forth, not bothering with the useless platitudes but keeping a firm lock on the back of dick’s neck and his waist. he peered up at batman and caught his gaze, and with a hushed agreement, they nodded at each other.

jason looped his arms around dick’s legs, his face twisting into a deeply set frown as dick’s sobs began morphing into hacking coughs, harsh and volatile. he managed to get himself standing upright as he pressed a kiss onto dick’s tear stained check, whilst still rubbing his back. the pain of others always had physically manifestions on jason. he fucking hated it. his mother would be splayed out on the couch, muttering incoherent fucking nonsense and jason would feel bile sting at the back of his throat, almost tempting him to kneel over and lurch as his body shook violently. and now, hearing dick’s fragmented breaths and shaky sobs, he felt like doing just that.

it had taken an effort, to get jason and dick safely off of the roof, and at the end bruce opted into scooping jason up who had dick clinging onto him like a koala, and simply carrying them both into the batmobile. alfred has already been long informed of the situation and had been able to promptly prepare an antidote that would be ready for their arrival. that did not mean, of course, that dick was compliant in taking the antidote. it took shushing and holding and soft whispers to get him to stop squirming enough for the needle to safely prick through his skin. alfred had opted to use little superman stickers afterwards, they were always dick’s favourite.

it had taken a while for dick to become conscious again, as alfred had added just a touch of sedatives to the antidote. just to help dick relax. when he did wake up, the world around him looking slightly fuzzy around the corners, he found himself encased in two sets of arms. was he in bruce’s bed? dick attempted to sit up but was met with a hand in his face pushing him back down, he turned his head to the side to be met with hazy lime green eyes and a lazy smile.

“dickie, sleep. now. you’ll wake up bruce— dont look at me like that he’s a light sleeper and you fucking know it. now go back to sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”

“I just woke up though, why am I going back to slee-.”

“sh. your voice is too loud this early in the morning.”

“you’re so annoyin—and get your hand off of me!”

“make me—slapping my hand isn’t doing anything, bud.”

“shut up. i didn’t ask.”

“you’re still not making me”

“i’ll kick you.”

“do it. c’mon. do it right now.”

“fine—stop pinching my cheeks, jay! ow, ow, ow.”

“stop kicking me, then i’ll stop pinching.”

“that’s not fair! who made you the king of rules, assh-.”

“boys.”

“sorry bruce.”

“i’m sorry, B.”

“i’ll whoop your ass tomorrow.”

“I’d like to see you try, you old sack of bones.”

and with a roll of the eyes, a feathery soft kiss was pressed into dick’s forehead. a soft smile curled at dicks lips afterwards, a warm fire nestling in his heart drove the lingering hazy darkness away. dick nuzzled closer into the bed sheets as the two sets of arms encasing him only held on tighter. all curled under the fluffy bedsheets as the morning sun began to rise on the horizon, seeping through the cracks of the dark curtains as a kaleidoscope of colours painted the early morning sky.

fin.

i rlly should’ve made this longer with a little more detail but i haven’t gotten back into the groove of creative writing yet so take this with a grain of salt lmao. but anywho tysm for reading and tysm for the prompt! again i rlly wanna get back into creative writing so hopefully i’ll written sm shit? hopefully? maybe? idk? but again tysm for reading and i am so so sorry for how long this took :]!!

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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

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Your steph and cass art was so iconic I love it! any chance you could draw my favorite sibling duo Tim and Cass?

sure! was in the mood to draw more cass :-p

[ID: a full body drawing of tim and cass dressed as red robin and black bat. tim is holding a tablet emitting green light as he explains something to cass. cass is standing next to him with a hand on her hip. END ID.]

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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

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WHO THE FUCK WAS GOING TO TELL ME THAT ROBIN #1 COMES OUT ON MY BIRTHDAY? MY 17TH NO LESS? WHO THE FUCK WAS GOING TO SAY IT. also hi i’m alive,, just very much swamped with school work i promise i’ll be writing properly soon i rlly wanna get back into it, also i wanna write some dsmp/mcyt stuff so yk theres that BUT AGAIN WHICH ONE OF YOU WAS GONNA TELL ME FUCK OFF

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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

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so one question , what happen after bruce " death "

okokok so first off thank you so so much for this, it def helped get my creative juices flowing (and i totally didn’t do this instead of study for my exams :) )! so, when it came to bruce’s death i wanted to do one scene/moment that kinda encapulasted all the emotions happening etc., and i’m assuming u meant in terms of my lil reverse robin au with jason being the oldest (i really should make this a series lol) so yeah, please enjoy and this legit was churned out at 2:04AM on the dot so yk its s h i t

••••••••••

It was the soft snoring that had tipped Jason off.

The sound slowly flowed through the winds and slipped into his ears, as he went from rooftop to rooftop, as he scoured closer to Wayne Manor. He had avoided his old ‘home’ like the plague, a plague so dark and twisted it could infect him by only a glance but for some reason he felt almost obligated to get at least one check or look.

Maybe, it was the off handed disparaging comment that Dick had made in patrol under this breath after settling a crime scene a little too close to Jason’s turf that no one had caught except him that was yanking his unwilling body to just check that everything was fucking peachy. It was just a check. He would be in and out with minimal harm done and no one would even have to see him, and he could quell this annoying little voice creaking on about how much he has failed Dick, blathering on and on about his so many shortcomings when it came to him.

He hadn’t exactly expected to find Dick curled in his civvies up on an old nook by one of the gargoyles perched on the roof and snoring away. It was a spot they had haunted a lot in their youth, and Dick would insist on pulling Jason out of the warm confines of his bed just to watch the sun come up from that very spot. Jason would moan and complain about it for a while but once he saw the iridescent sheen of the blazing sun rearing it’s head on the horizon, he would clamp his mouth shut to enjoy the view.

He examined Dick critically and weighed his odds objectively as he inched closer, each thunk of his boots a calculated risk he was annoyingly choosing to take. Dick was clearly safe in some capacity and if the little brats down below couldn’t find him they would eventually try the roof, so Jason couldn’t exactly pinpoint the reason why he was still moving closer, tense but still moving. It was almost like a snake, slithering forward with its defences high as it keeps itself on edge for any sudden movements.

He would’ve left. Jason was going to leave, he had already eased his fragile conscience as it was, and he knew that Dick wasn’t in any life threatening danger, (Unless the danger was Jason himself), but it wasn’t until he was close enough to cock his head to the side a bit to get a better angle on Dick’s face, when he stopped in his tracks.

Little tear tracks, almost vein like, had stained Dick’s cheeks. They weren’t even all that noticeable, but the sheer existence of them at all was enough to make Jason just stop.

(He had always had a hard time ignoring Dick’s tears, hadn’t he? When Dick would sprain an ankle, or get even the mildest of all mild concussions, and his eyes began to get this glassy sheen while he desperately tried to hide them, Jason would be unable to leave his side. He had almost sworn himself into the duty of making sure Dick didn’t cry. Oh, how fate fiddles with its toys.)

Swallowing hard, Jason’s eyes flickered around, doing one last sweep of his surroundings. He sighed, attaching his gun to the holster around his waist and crouched down on the balls of his feet next to Dick. He fucking despised how Dick almost realized he was next to him, and shifted his position. Leaning his head onto Jason’s shins.

Jason knew enough to keep his connection with Dick as thin as he possibly could, but he was too selfish to let it burn to the ground like all the countless bridges he had torched and scorned at. Knowledgeable enough to distance but too selfish to leave.

What a fucking motto that was.

Jason took yet another shaky sigh, a lot more haggard this time, as he rubbed his hands over the smooth material of his helmet. It grounded him, for a slip of a moment, as he tried to avert his eyes from Dick’s form that was rising and falling slowly. Every time he glanced over, he managed to find something else he hated.

The dark circles making stark holes under his eyes.

The pinched look pulling at his features.

Those stupid fucking tear stains that were just screeching at Jason.

(“Batman just saves everyone, doesn’t he?”)

The fact that everytime Jason blinked, an eerily green shade would overtake his vision, leaving the form next to him shifting and contorting between the man next to him and the little twelve year old he had left behind. Scorched in the flames of Jason’s symphony.

Jason fumbled to release himself from his helmet, as his mind played catch up woth his thoughts and he ignored the pulling at his chest. He shoved the helmet off as it fizzed away, and threw his head back to take clumsy gulps of air. The putrid smell of rotting flesh mixed with dirt was ripping through him, but he pushed it aside. As he always did.

You just couldn’t fucking leave, Todd. Why the fuck couldn’t you just leave, huh? Ironic, wasn’t it? You keep demanding people realize you’re a different creature from what you once were, yet you can barely differentiate between your twelve year old brother and the man whose morphed into everything you fucking hate. Why? Why are you here? Move. Move. Get up. Get the fuck up, Tod-.

“Y’know? You are such an asshole,” Jason croaked softly, shifting his eyes to see if Dick stirred but to no response.

“I know you don’t want this. I know that, so why are you still against m—,” Jason ran a hand through his hair and tugged at his roots slightly, “Batman saves everyone, huh? He doesn’t save you though, does he? No ones here to catch you when you fall anymore, and now you’re crying on a fucking roof.”

He curled his hands around his roots tighter, feeling the pull of his skin prickle at his mind, “You’re setting a bad example, Dick. What will your dearest little brats think about this performance? He never pulled shit like this. You know that, though. I know you do. That’s why you’re doing it in a little secret spot so that you can turn yourself around, and give that stupid smile that no one believes anyways. I always thought you were a little less predictable then that. I overestimated, clearly.”

Jason resolved to stare at the drying splatters of blood that adorned the soles of his shoes. He bit down the churning of acids in his stomach, a feeble attempt of his conscience to make him feel like shit. He had overestimated. He had. Dick wasn’t fucking better, it didn’t matter that he had tried to smother the Joker in an adrenaline high, because he was still as useless as Bruce. Jason was effective, he got shit done that no one else had the stomach to do and that was fine. He had far gotten over his pleading desire for Batman to avenge him, it was a fallacy of the boy who had become a rotting carcass under the confines of wood and shattering bones. Jason has become far more attuned to the reality of his situation, not the fallacy.

As the moon revealed itself from behind a long string of clouds, Jason once again glanced down at Dick. He snorted softly, as he saw a certain gleam in Dick’s waves of hair.

“God, do you still use that same pomade? I swear you got an allergy from that, did you not? Anyways it still fucking reeks, so you better take that shit off.”

Jason allowed himself to slowly unfurl his hands from almost tanking out tufts of his hair, as he felt the tightly wound rope around his chest unwind ever so slowly.

“Grayson? Grayson!”

The shrill tilt of a voice shoved Jason back into reality, and he was already setting his helmet into place, with his line soaring across the sky to another building. He cast a fleeting look at Dick, before he soared off into the sky before the little boy dressed in a jalabiya got the chance to peak his head into the little flap leading up to the roof.

Fin

(P.S. It really hadn’t been Jason’s ideal Friday night, by any means necessary. He had envisioned himself finally finishing Little Women, and being able to devour the next book that had ‘mysteriously’ shown by his door. Instead, he was roped into watching Miracle on 34th Street with a particular blue bird perched on the floor by his couch.

Bryon has just been complaining to Kris about his failed proposal attempt with Susan, when Jason caught onto the sound of soft breathing with a hint of a snore. He pushed himself out of his previous position, and peered down to find Dick slumped on the floor with his head resting on the side of Jason’s legs. He sighed, his lips twitching upwards as he didn’t dare move his legs from their spot.

He stretched his arms out out, to reach for both his book that was on the old coffee table as well as the remote. He smacked the end of the remote a few times, and slowly lowered the volume on the TV. (Dick had once told him he never really liked sleeping in complete silence, it bothered him to some extent). He then flipped to the page he had stopped on, slowly pulling out an old but pristine bookmark that Jason and Bruce had made once, and gently placed it next to him. He leaned back, resting his aching back as his eyes flickered over the words of the novel, all the more aware of the presence by his feet but he found himself not minding all that much. He knew this kind of calming bliss was only temporary with the ‘clan’ they had but he savoured it with all he had.

...The children are regular archangels, and I-well, I’m Jo, and never shall be anything else. Oh, I must tell you that I came near having a quarrel with Laurie...(P.267 of Little Women.)

•••

SOOO THATS IT THIS TOOK SO MUCH LONGER THAN I WANTED I AM SO SORRY! i’m pretty pleased with how it turned out and even though it’s not a series of hc’s per say i wanted to kinda encapsulate everything yk? also damian wears a jalabiya please let this child be connected to his culture for my sanity and his (my little egyptian-canadian ass needs this o k?) also my plan is to do a lil christmas fic with bruce and dick but u h h i have shitty time management skills lEMME TELL UUU I STILL HAVE WAY TOO MUCH UNFINISHED SHIT IN AO3 T-T BUT ANWAYS THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR READING THIS WAS HELLA FUN TO DO :)!!

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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

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yk so i was watching bmw (boy meets world :) ) while procrastinating an essay so oF COURSE i decided to write some more of my reverse robin au (that pertains to jason being the oldest of the batkids w/ him and dick growing up together) except fLUFF bc i cannot handle angst rn (oR cOulD I wE wiLL nEvER kNoWwwW)

oh and disclaimer there may be several medical inaccuracies so please feel free to correct me :)

jason often gets night terrors, ones that can get particularly awful when bruce goes on an overnight business trip. so one night bruce is in new york after being forced into it by lucius, with dick being adopted for some time now. dick was awake because he was having trouble sleeping, for no real particular reason in all honesty. he heard a short yell though, coming from the room next to him and he dashed over, tripping over his blanket and still gripping zitka tightly. he knew that he wasn’t supposed to fight yet, but he doesn’t really think about that as he yanked jason’s door open.

he then saw his brother laying on his side, turning back and forth, breathing heavily looking so visibly pained it was hurting dick. he rushed over to jason, his eyes darting around because he just didn’t know what to do. taking his chances he tapped jason’s shoulder gently, and he already felt like it wasn’t the right move but he sucked it up and tried again, only this time to some result. jason shot up, gripping on tightly to dick’s arm, his eyes hazy and unfocused and his chest heaving.

dick remained still, only slowly trying to push jason off of him and back into his bed. jason’s grip didn’t let but he laid back in bed, squeezing his eyes tightly as if he was trying to push away everything he had just witnessed. dick took this as an initiative to gently climb into bed, as jason fell back into a less violent but equally as stressful sleep. he placed zitka next to jason, who still hasn’t let go of his arm, and awkwardly sat up in bed, almost acting as a protector. slowly, dick began to doze off, feeling a lot more comforted in his brothers prescence then he had been in his own room.

jason on the other hand, doesn’t remember much of that night, as he rarely fully remembers any of his night terrors (only the scars they leave behind), but when he wakes up at the ass crack of dawn with a few fragments of something he would prefer not to remember, he puts it together rather quickly. he guessed it would happen, and he could’ve told bruce and he knew the guy would drop anything in a heartbeat, but that pissed him off, more so then it justifiably should. he wasn’t a child and he hadn’t been a child for a long fucking time, and it was stupid that he couldn’t deal with a single night without bruce. jason then turned onto his side, disgruntled with a new found rage directed at himself that he might take out on someone else, when he found dick, sleeping at an awkward position.

he was leaning on the headboard, but was slumped down and drooling a bit, which would have been hilarious blackmail material on any other given day. but today, jason felt a pit in his stomach. the only rational thought that his mind could conjure in its fear muddled frenzy was please tell me i didn’t hurt dick, pleasepleasepleaseplease. he quickly checked over dick’s face, cupping his checks and looking for any signs of a bruise. he had given bruce a particularly nasty one earlier in his tenure at the manor, after bruce attempted to restrain him while he was having a night terror so he could avoid hurting himself, instead jason kicked him in the jaw. he even felt bad about it the next day, which was an odd surprise for him at the time.

after checking over dick hasilty, he could see he wasn’t all that hurt, even though if he looked hard enough he could see inklings of nail shaped markings in dick’s right arm just under his shirt sleeve. jason felt a bit of bile rising up, as he gently shifted dick into a better sleeping position, and pulled the blanket up to his chin and slipped a pillow underneath him. dick opened his bleary eyes, mumbling jason’s name in question, and squinting his eyes. jason rolled his eyes but nodded, “yeah, it’s me. now sleep–why’re you shaking yer head? you don’ wanna sleep? too bad.” jason pressed another pillow onto the side of dicks face in a teasing attempt to smother him to sleep, but dick only proceeded to giggle, and snuggle closer to jason, who had sat up already. jason tossed the pillow to the side after a few seconds of play fighting, dick was going to be too sleepy to remember this break in the ‘teasing older brother’ façade. so, he ran his hand through his little brothers hair and laid back down, tracing soft circles into dick’s scalp absentmindedly. and feeling a rush of gratitude that bruce had brought this little circus boy into his life. he really didn’t know what he would do without his little brother. (needless to say, dick became a constant comforter in jason’s night terrors).

jason blames dick for everything. if a vase got knocked over, it was a dick. if the tv wasn’t working, dick had been playing with the satellite. if his phone was missing, dick stole it to play games. if his sweater had a stain, you better bet it was dick. the boy in question, of course, adamantly denies these facts and does have a way of persuading bruce (he is the golden child after all, jason could testify to that), but bruce also knows both of his boys are annoyingly good liars. so every incident is treated like a little miniature crime scene, and it never fails to make jason howl in laughter at dick explaining how he couldn’t have possibly used up jason’s shampoo because he has his own washroom with his own shampoo and so w h y jason w h y would i steal your shampoo. (jason’s usual response is a deadpanned ‘why wouldn’t you’, and that just gives bruce another headache as the two bicker on and on and on.)

the pair of them usually go biking together, and it’s usually quite tranquil to start. until dick makes a sly comment that jason’s old bones must be so tired from cycling, so why not take a break? jason snide reponse is how the fuck are you touching the pedals with your stubby ass legs. that’s really all it takes for them to delve into a full on biking race. it never really ends well, but the two always come out rolling in laughter so whose to complain.

dick thinks real housewives of beverly hills is better then new jersey, and jason is adamant that new jersey is superior in every shape and way. the two agree that atlanta is the absolute winner no matter what though.

jason is dick’s english tutor. and it’s safe to say that it’s an experience. dick already knew a fair amount of english growing up, his father had been a wonderful teacher but it wasn’t exactly up to gotham academy standards apparently (jason knew the feeling) and his accent was still quite prevalent to have him be considered an esl kid, so jason ended up being his tutor once dick started going to english class at school and after his time with an esl instructor. jason, who has an untapped passion for literature that not many can match, is absolutely dedicated to teaching dick, because fuck man this is genius! genius, dick! and dick isn’t exactly a fan, but he does secretly think jason should be a teacher, he’s better then any of the teachers he’s had that’s for sure (his father would’ve really loved jason too, that was also for sure). and dick is considering buying him a little briefcase with his little initials on it. ((it happens, and jason tries really really hard not to cry))

bruce is absolutely that parent that secretly takes pictures of every single moment possible. he isn’t a photographer, in any sense, but he likes to capture natural moments, and he has a series of pictures dedicated to the one trip him and the boys took to Barbados where he started this habit. he wasn’t and still isn’t a big fan of beaches, they’re hot, crowded and just too much for bruce to feel any kind of comfortable in. he remembers sitting under a floppy beach umbrella, feeling the knot in his chest sit heavily on his heart, fire ants scurrying across the underlining of his skin, burning under the side stares of those passing by. it wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of dick riding on jason’s little shoulders, as they trotted around waist deep in the clear ocean water, that the fist squeezing his heart like the rotten fruit it was began to ease. he glanced down at the camera that alfred had subtly slipped into their bag after dicks insistence, and lifted it up to fiddle with it slightly. then raised it up to take a swift picture. capturing jason mid laughter as he leaned back, in a joking attempt to shake dick off who was in the middle of a yelp but had entrenched his hands in jason’s mop of curly hair. it was hilarious imperfect, but bruce would not want it any other way. not at all.

(jason found it once. he saw the picture at the corner of his eye sitting by the keyboard of the ‘Batcomputer’ ((dick was so shitty with names, thank god he didn’t come up with flippy man as his code name )), and he hesitated for a moment before hastily grabbing it. examining it with an unexpected amount of gentleness, he rubbed his thumb against the glass above dick’s hands in his hair and felt something snake around his heart. slowly and methodically seeping into it until he felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe. then he heard damian trotting down the stairs as he explained the details of his anthropology class to dick who was hopping down behind him. jason shoves the picture back and grits his teeth together to ignore the sting that was absolutely not in his eyes)

aAAAND THATS ALL!! i’ve had these in my notes for a while so it’s relief to get them out there hehe so i really hope y’all enjoy ive legit been falling in love with this reverse au bC THERE IS SO MUCH POTENTIAL U G H IVE NEVER BEEN EXCITED TO WRITE SHIT UNTIL NOW SO Y A Y FOR INSPIRATION

Y A Y :)

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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

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yo ,i remember a post about sort of reverse batfam , between jason and dick , can you do the headcanons about under the red hood please

yes yes yes yes yes and another yes to top it all off. i really really love the idea, and i love under the red hood in general so thank u so much for suggesting this :) like i spent all day brainstorming (probs shoulda been studying but shhhhh) diff headcanons so i’m pretty excited to write it out. also so the timeline with this is a little tight ig?? i really wanted to include tim as bruce’s new sidekick with dick in the middle of his fallout with bruce but again a lil too tight so we’re just gonna have rebellious dick for now and i also haven’t watched death in the family so i’m basing this purely off of under the red hood :) (oh and fuck dick’s hair in the movie oh my god i’m ignoring that it even exists i’m so sorry)

dick is 17 on the cusp of hitting 18 and he’s so fucking sick of batman. every conversation of theirs was leading to a screaming match where each one tries to push their opinion as fact. it was getting messy and soul crushing at this point, and dick hated it. the rising action of it all was dick getting fired from robin, a role he hadn’t even been formally granted by batman yet he felt it in his power to strip him of it. he felt like a pawn in a chess game that gambled his identity and being off of the mind numbing mantra of be better. do better. faster. punch harder. follow orders. be better be better better. and dick was sick of it, so he shed the robin uniform. swallowing it like a bitter pill because he was forced to do so. but nightwing was giving him clarity as of late. the sheer rush, brilliance and exuberance of it all reminded him of when flying was a much simpler task.

however, dick had an annoyingly unwavering loyalty to protecting bruce’s (less batman then bruce. bruce was his father. batman was not. yet nowadays the man himself was forgetting who exactly was the secret identity and who the real person was.) safety and well-being, even if it meant risking another shouting round. so, once dick catches wind of batman’s whereabouts for the night, he decides to help him with Amazo etc., and dick cant help but realize how well they still mesh together when it comes to fighting. the talking part however, did not come naturally anymore. (it used to. it used to be so much easier)

now bruce, is attempting his best to keep dick out of the loop. he knows dick will furious. and dick’s temper is something not many can tame, but bruce would take the risk. he’d rather dick spit on his memory then be dead in his arms (just like jason was, blown to bits when he should’ve been in his room. safe. sleeping after studying for some test not fighting crime with him in the underbelly of Gotham city, or getting dragged along bruce’s self induced fight with the world.)

dick, of course, does not appreciate this and can very easily tell the bruce is trying to get him off the case. dick doesn’t appreciate that in the slightest, and it only makes him want to push more. to fight bruce on every detail and demand he be apart of this because that’s the only way he can get anywhere with him. it was fair to say, that the interrogation with the joker he had to force bruce into taking him too, wasn’t exactly pleasant. he watches, leaning back against the wall as batman has joker by the neck. some part of him hates himself for not being upset about this, like he’s failing his moral code in some way. but he ignores that half, and tries not to feel angry as bruce doesn’t choke joker out like the rat he is. dick wished, in the darkest parts of his mind, that he could burn joker alive, just to watch in vengeful satisfaction that the man who stole his brothers breath wither in pain. ( and watch that fucking laugh die out)

now, the confrontation goes quite similar. except dick is noticing these little things that resemble jason too much it be a coincidence. too much. he knows how jason fights, he’s sparred with him for years and used to spend countless nights in his room trying to emulate his older brothers swift and hard hitting movements in front of his mirror. he always wished he could hit as hard as jason, as dicks strength at the time was his inhuman flexiblity and professional acrobatic skills. now, when he and batman are against the red hood, fuck it doesn’t feel right to dick. it’s all too similar. it wasn’t even the bigger moves that caught his attention but the little moves in stance that screamed at him that it was his brother. he kept shutting the idea down, because if it was possible dick would have made it happen. he would’ve.

dick gets hurt in the aftermath, but bruce must be a fucking comedian if he thinks it’s going to stop him. they get into another argument, bruce talking him down to nothing and dick frustrated that bruce couldn’t see that he’s been doing this for too long to be lectured on it, and that bruce wasn’t atlas. he wasn’t responsible for the world being held up between his two hands. it simmers down to loud silence, like it always does and dick hobbles out. leaning slightly on alfred.

bruce’s hunch is eating him alive. devouring his soul and heart with a satisfying crunch, not sparing crumb. with the revelation that his son could be alive, and the Red Hood of all people, one of the first thoughts that run through his mind is that he could not tell dick. dick could never know, and will never know. it was a hushed promise, one kept inside his chest, locked like all of his unspoken words. it would crush dick, just like it was crushing bruce now. (or maybe it was because if bruce was on the fence about breaking his moral agenda, he knows that dick would hurdle over that fence. he hates that he knows this but he does. dick wears a bleeding heart on his sleeve for his family, especially for jason. this is the same boy that was set on killing zucco all those years ago before jason and him had stopped it.)

(jason’s tasting bitter green as he mulls over why the fuck dick was there. that little idiot was supposed to be at home. safe. not carrying out bruce’s destructive agenda of self proclaimed justice. he didn’t know whether to be mad at bruce or dick. because of course bruce encouraged this shit, eager to force another child soldier into the suit and send him out to die. but God, did it hurt that dick had taken bruce’s side over his even if he didn’t know it was jason. and that stung like a motherfucker. his little brother, whose fond memories were becoming hazed in a cloud of viridecent smoke, had picked bruce’s side. a little part of himself though, shy and hesitant, whispered that he had hurt dick. he had hurt his little brother and he couldn’t justify it no matter how vengeful he was. but he shoved that part aside, trying to ignore its desperate murmurs as they told him that every time he looked at nightwing or whatever the fuck his new name was, he saw his eight year old little brother smiling up at him).

dick knows that bruce thinks he’s covering his tracks well. he is but dick knows bruce, better then bruce thinks he does. so dick is slowly beginning to formulate a hunch of his own, as he spends countless nights rubbing his formerly injured leg and wondering if he really did everything he could’ve to save jason. if there was something he missed. it’s starting to gnaw away at him, until realization settles into his chest after snooping through bruce’s files. then, he’s dashing to get into uniform, giving a breathless and hasty apology to alfred. itsjasonitsjasonitsjasongogogorunrunrun

batman. red hood. bruce. jason. father. son. bruce cannot stomach the vigor in jason’s words and jason’s heart is giving out at the fact that his father won’t do this for him. to end that pathetic excuse of a fucking life, one that’s stolen from so many people, but it still wasn’t up to his moral standards limit. was jason not enough to warrant a sacrifice for the greater good. (was jason’s desperate need to feel safe of that walking nightmare not worthy to overtake any mission)

it happens in a rush. dick is swinging up to the building, the blood pumping through his ears drowning out the screams of his chest. the joker tackles batman as the timer tick tick tick’s away numbingly. suddenly, dick has kicked the joker off and has one hand over his neck while the other smothers itself over his mouth and nose. why didn’t he do this before? why didn’t he kill the thing before? it didn’t even deserve to be called human, so why would any moral standards apply to a human based code. if batman wanted to be the whole representer of pure justice, fine. he could do that. dick wasn’t though. he was going this kill piece of shit then never let go of jason as long as he lived.

suddenly, there’s a pull at the back of dick’s uniform and at the corner of his eye he catches sight of jason being pulled by bruce as well and he’s just about to call out for him when the next thing he knows a blast rockets through his ears and the world goes black.

jason was no where to be found. and bruce ends up having to shove dick into the batmobile before he lunged after the joker, after realizing jason was missing and that the joker was still alive and kicking. the argument that insues? isn’t pretty. in fact it’s their worst. dick had spun around and asked bruce, ‘who are you? batman or bruce? because im not talking to batman, i want to hear why bruce couldn’t do the one thing his son needed! i want to know why bruce thought it was going to be beneficial not to fucking tell me that my brother-Bruce, he’s my brother! that he was alive, because you thought I was gonna pull shit like this? look at that! the exact thing you tried to avoid happened, you know why? because you cannot trust me, and it blew up in your face!’

it goes on. and on. and on. there’s no resolution, or admittance to what happened. bruce simply shuts himself down, stating this wasn’t changing anything. there was a then and a now, one in which bruce harbours enough guilt to crush his shoulders.

there’s a stony resolution in dick’s voice after bruce tells him to get out with more finality to it then he’s ever said it before, when he says, “fine. batman.”

(jason replays it over and over again in his head. the batarang. bruce turning his back to him. the jokers screechy laugh eating at his mind. eruptions of pain from the crowbar. again. again. again. and dick. smothering the joker. a steely resolve in his brothers eyes he never wanted to see but was secretly glad for. it replays like a broken film in his head, cutting and chopping but creaking out the same tune.)

AHHH OK SO i def wanted to do so much more with this ugh but i really wanted it done td so excuse just how unpolished it is, i might go back with some new ideas in it, but i like where i ended it off. this is more or less the ‘detachment’ phase in dick’s relationship with bruce, as hes nearing the end of high school and cannot do this with bruce anymore (oh college is a whooole other ordeal hehe) but i think dick would be better to tim then what he canonically was to jason. (also because dick is totally not on a mission to get his brother back at all costs and fix this family, nope. not at all.), and i think dick just has a lot more anger in this too? and bitterness here ig? just because he had lost his parents, then his brother essentially, and had to deal with being the emotional support to bruce who was falling apart. it’s a heavy load, and dick is absolutely still himself, just when it comes to jason and the joker as well as his family in general, i think he has a lot more anger as well as less control yk? (oh also i have him less in blüdhaven in this lil thing just bc like he’s still in highschool and is in this weird phase with bruce that hes fired etc., but is now yk fully going into the, ‘i’m not speaking to you anymore’ part. SOO THATS IT FOR THAT THANK YALL SO SOOOO MUCH FOR READING UR KINDA ALL THE BEST TBH AND TYSM FOR THE SUGGESTION AGAIN THIS WAS HELLA FUN :)!!

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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

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this idea for a fic/short fic came completely from a tiktok from @ fixation_or_infatuation on tiktok who has such awesome content so P L E A S E go check them out!! and thank u so much for the idea bc legit this made me so happy hehe

(also soft dad Bruce rights ok? oK I CLOSE MY EYES AND EARS TO CANON AND SAY FUCK THAT NOISE BRUCE IS A GOOD DAD FIGHT ME ON THIS HE IS A GOOD DAD WHO IF HIS SON CRIED FOR SOMETHING HE WOULD TURN THE EARTH OVER ON ITS ASS TO FIND IT FOR HIM PERIOD POINT BLANK. HE LOVES HIS CHILDREN OK A Y?? OH ALSO U CAN RIP DICK BEING AN ESL KID OUT OF MY COLD DEAD HANDS OK? OK :) )

“-uce. Bruce? Bruce! Bru-uce! Bruce, I adopted a chihuahua and named her Georgina, what’d you think of that?”

“Hn?”

Bruce shot his head up, realizing he had made the foolish mistake of zoning out through an infamous Dick Grayson tale, that always required every form of attention necessary at all times. He could feel himself chuckle inwardly, as he saw his ward’s little pout as he chewed away at his tortellini, directing a solid stare of expectation at Bruce.

“You really need to sleep more, do you know that?” Dick hummed, raising a little eyebrow at Bruce, which was a facial expression that looked far too adult on his baby cheeked face, and it looked far to Bruce-esque for his own liking.

“Even if I didn’t know that, I’d always have you to remind me, don’t I?” Bruce teased, stirring up a bright giggle from Dick that simply filled his chest with a rush of warmth that he had never really felt before. He loved hearing his laughter, no matter where or when and whether it was a rarity or not, but it always felt just a little bit more special when Bruce had been the one to cause it.

“At this point, I would consider myself your own personal alarm cloc-Bruce, can I please wake you up singing Christmas carols tomor-Why? I have a beautfiul and spec-tac-u-lar voice, thank you very much!”

Bruce didn’t bother suppressing a teasing eye roll, as Dick’s voice sounded like glass being rubbed against a cheese grater when he tried to hit all of Mariah Carey’s notes. He did, however, nod slightly at Dick to congratulate him on his proper pronounciation of ‘spectacular’, which was a word that Dick usually had a hint of trouble with. It was a small action, but one he hoped Dick would understand.

“Anyways, can I ask you a question?” Bruce’s eyebrows curved upwards in question, just a smidge, as he pushed his plate of food aside and leaned closer across the table to give Dick his complete focus.

“You already did,” Dick rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort but Bruce cut him off, “However, what’d you need?”

Then, there was something Bruce never really thought he would see for as long as he would live. It was Dick Grayson, the beam of passionate sunshine himself, squirming shyly in his seat and chewing on his bottom lip. If Bruce wasn’t the master of supressing emotions then he would’ve been throughly surprised by this display.

Dick Grayson was simply not shy, not in the very slightest. He was bolsterous and bold with just a hint of cunningness behind it, but he certainly was not shy. This, of course, caused Bruce to begin categorizing all the possible problems there could be. He ran through them over and over in his head, trying to suppress an inexplicable feeling of dread and fear that was coursing through his chest only slightly, but still present.

Dick took a deep breath, and Bruce could feel himself holding his almost inadvertently.

“When Superman comes today, d-do you think I could get an autograph,” Dick spluttered out, saying it almost too fast that Bruce barely understood what had been uttered. He did feel himself take a massive sigh of relief, even though what replaced the dread in his heart was just a prick of bitterness. Dick had never asked for Batman’s autograph.

“If Clark’s alright with it, then I don’t see why not, chum.”

Then, like a burst of light on a cloudy evening, Dick jumped out of his seat and went around the table straight into Bruce’s arms for a full koala hug.

Bruce, who still wasn’t fully accustomed to such open and loving acts of affection, froze for just a slip of a moment but then melted into Dick’s hold, as he usually did. There was just something magical, dare he say, about his wards (sons) hugs.

Dick then propped his head onto Bruce’s chest, and beamed up at him with stars glittering in his eyes, “Thank you, B!”

Bruce yearned to say something, to say anything along the lines of; Of course, I would bring the moon down if you asked me too or I love you so much that your very laugh eases this knot in my chest that has never been able to budge.

Bruce only managed a meager, “No need to thank me, chum.”

Dick, who had been completely content with the answer given even though he shouldn’t have been, placed his hands onto Bruce’s shoulders and flipped into a handstand position. He then curved his body around enough to sit onto Bruce’s broad shoulders, which in full honesty, didn’t surprise Bruce at this point. He had become labelled as the ‘jungle gym man,’ which was a nickname graciously given to him by Dick himself.

“Now, ride my steed! To Alfie!”

Bruce prayed inwardly that Clark wouldn’t have to be a witness to this mayhem, because it really would lessen his fearsome status in the Justice League.

•••••••••••

Bruce was not jealous.

He simply was not and it didn’t matter how many side eyed stares Alfred shot his way, Bruce was a perfectly fine without a sliver of jealously.

It’s hero-worship, it’s just complete and utter hero-worship.

From the moment Clark Kent had stepped through the Cave’s doors, Dick had been unable to contain his sheer excitement as he bounced on the balls of his feet. The two had hit it off better then anyone Bruce had ever seen before, gabbering on about nothing and everything all at the same time. Now, Bruce was not upset about this, because Dick deserved someone who could give every inch of love he so generously gave back to him. Clark was just that person, as the Boy Scout himself matched wits with Dick far easier then Bruce had ever been able to do.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less.

“Master Bruce?”

Bruce swiveled his chair to face Alfred, as he sorted out the rest of his paperwork.

“Have you seen Master Dick since our guest left? I’ve been unable to locate him since then.”

His jaw clenched slightly, as he racked his brain around everytime he had seen Dick between the forty minutes since Clark had left and that moment. He felt his heart sink when he realized he hadn’t seen a trace of Dick since the Kryptonian had left.

Fuck.

Bruce hurried up to the third floor of the Manor, and felt his heart that had sunk into his gut shatter at the sound of a faint whimper slithering up to his ear from the bathroom across the hall. He gently walked towards it, slowly but surely turning the knob only to peer his head in, as not to startle Dick.

Dick was curled up into a ball across from the sink, small sobs heaving from his little chest as he desperately tried to push the oncoming flow of tears away with his palm. His cheeks were marred with fresh tear stains and his eyes were a leaning towards the pinker side as fresh tears began to bubble to the surface.

Bruce wasted absolutely no time as he skidded to the floor in front of Dick, gripping his wards shoulders tightly. Dick raised his head slightly, looking all the more ashamed for being caught crying which weighed down on Bruce like the weight of the ocean.

“Dick, what’s wrong?” Bruce whispered, wishing he could erase every inch of sadness off his face, “Please tell me what’s wrong, chum.”

Dick bit his lip, chewing on it for a bit, which Bruce recognized as one of Dick’s nervous habits. He made a note of that, just in case.

“I-Bruce, it’s stupid, alright? I-I’ll get up, I’m sorry for sitting on the bathroom flo-.”

“Dick,” Bruce huffed, firmly pushing Dick back onto the ground as he moved his hands to cup Dick’s cheeks, still filled with baby fat, “Nothing you say is going to be stupid. I want to know what’s wrong, alright?”

Bruce was not one to plead nor grovel, no matter how much life pressed its dirty heels into his back he never swayed. However, seeing Dick crying was such a weak point to him that it unnerved and horrified him. (It was probably why his nightmares had all had one consistent theme of Dick being in some sort of danger that Bruce could not save him from.)

Dick practically melted into Bruce’s hold, and nuzzled his face into his palm as Bruce wiped away stray tears. Fuck. Bruce needed to hug Dick more, or just show any shred of affection. He just wasn’t used to having to show an abundance of physical affection to someone, and had forgotten how much he had craved for it when he was younger, starving and hungry for shreds of affection he wasn’t expecting to receive, until he simply became numb to it. Dick really deserved someone better, and Bruce knew this more than anyone else.

After taking a shaky breath, Dick peered up at Bruce as he blinked away tears, “Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?”

“I promise,” Bruce vowed as he rubbed his thumb across Dick’s cheeks comfortingly.

“Do you remember how I wanted Superman’s autograph?” Dick mumbled softly, sniffling slightly. Bruce nodded but mentality cursed himself a thousand times for not realizing that Dick hadn’t asked a single time for an autograph from Clark.

“I-I really wanted to ask him! I kept waiting and waiting but I just couldn’t do it, b-because I thought he might find me annoying. I really, really wanted him to like me, Bruce! I thought he might get upset or get annoyed by me because I talk so much, so I just couldn’t do it and I don’t even know why I’m crying! He was so nice to me but I just really got scared a-and my tongue got tied like-like a knot! Does that make sense? My tongue was like this big heavy knot and it was stuck to my mout-Why am I crying!”

Dick tried to suppress a rising sob, as he covered in his eyes in shame. Bruce gently let go of his cheeks and spread his arms out gently, with the offer standing clear. Dick flung himself into Bruce’s waiting arms and buried his face in the crook of his neck, as he continued to try to mumble out a few words and hiccup. God, it was enough to make Bruce’s chest ache, as he rubbed soothing circles into Dick’s back softly.

“Clark would never find you annoying, not in a million years. Dick, can you look at me for a second? Clark would never find you annoying, and I don’t know a single person who would,” Bruce stated firmly, as he cradled Dick in his arms and shifted him so he would be facing him, “Dick, Clark would give you a thousand autographs if you asked, and do you want to know something? There’s nothing wrong with being a little shy, and you have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing at all.”

Dick sniffled a bit, as he snuggled closer to Bruce but he stayed quiet, which worried Bruce more so then it should’ve.

“You know, I get shy sometimes too,” Bruce confided quietly, as if it would provide some sort of comfort to Dick. It proved to work as Dick sat up with a start, glancing up at Bruce wirh furrowed brows.

“It’s never this emotional, but you know what? I think it’s better you let it all out, then trying to bottle it up inside,” Bruce murmured, pushing Dick’s fringe back. He saw a pensive look set into Dick’s features, and was met with another soft hug.

Dick was going to being the reason Bruce’s heart burst, he was sure of it.

“You’re the best, Bruce.”

Oh well, Bruce didn’t need a heart anyway. Not if he had Dick with him.

•••••

Bruce leaned over his phone, dialing a number into it as he kept his ears open to the sound of the tap shutting.

He had gotten Dick to wash his face a bit, with Alfred stepping in to look after him while Bruce made some executive calls.

The phone beeped for a bit. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Hello? Bruce?”

“I’m going to say this one singular time, are we clear? You are going to fly over here and give Dick the best goddamned autograph you have given a person but you are going to let him ask for it first, then you’ll be on your merry way unless he asks you to stay for dinner, clear?”

“I-.”

Bruce ended the call, satisfied with the answer he was given. It still stung just a bit that Dick wasn’t demanding a Batman autograph, but he would make sure his ward (son) was as happy as can be, even if it meant letting the Boy Scout take his place as Dicks, ‘Favourite Adult.’

It was worth it, if he could make sure that brilliant smile was always there.

Fin

(P.S. Later that night, when Bruce was tucking Dick into bed after shutting The Vevlveteen Rabbit and setting it onto the nightstand, he noticed Dick was happily gripping the signed Superman card tightly in his hand. He shoved back his exasperation, but couldn’t help but give a raise of the brow when Dick asked if he could buy a Superman backpack.

“You already sleep in Superman pajamas, I think the commodities can stop at that,” Bruce suggested, ignoring the fact that Dick probably had no idea what that word even meant, “Would you not want any other hero?”

“Nope, he’s my favourite. Oh-Besides you, of course!” Dick hummed, as he used his other arm to grab Zitka from behind him, as casual as could be.

Bruce, on the other hand, had just had a bombshell dropped on him. A happy bombshell. A pleasant bombshell. A bombshell nonetheless, though.

“I wouldn’t get your merch, though. I have the real thing, and he’s my bestest friend in the whole wide world. Don’t tell Wally that though!” Dick exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Bruce like the most important part of that sentence was the warning of not to tell Kid Flash, and not that Bruce was his ‘bestest friend in the whole wide world.’

(Not father. Never his father.)

Bruce was silent, but leaned over to give Dick a peck on the forehead and a rare but soft smile. One he really only reserved for Dick and Alfred. He couldn’t afford to be selfish, this was enough for him. This was absolutely enough for him.

Dick returned his smile with one that shone brighter then all the suns Bruce had seen in his life.

Bruce really adored this kid.)

AND THATS IT HEHE PLEASE EXCUSE WELL EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS FIC I WROTE IT AT 2AM AND WHILE I CONSIDERED POSTING IT ON AO3 (my account is ordinarilyspeaking btw :) ) I DECIDED TUMBLR IS WHERE IS POST MY 2AM THOUGHTS ANYWAY SO WHY THE FUCK NOT SO YEAH IM GOING TO GO PROCRASINATE MY ASSINGMENTS SOME MORE SO THANK U SO MUCH FOR READING HEHE!

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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

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I KINDA SORTA RAN TO TUMBLR BC I HAD AN IDEA TO ADD TO MY REVERSE ROBIN AU AND FUCKKKK WHY I DO THIS TO MYSELF? ILL NEVER KNOW BUT AM I UPSET THO? NOT REALLY SO UH THIS IS A LITTLE HEADCANON/IDEA OF BRUCE AND ROBIN (DICK) GOING OUT, BRUCE GETTING HIT BY FEAR TOXIN AND IS SEEING JASON EVERYWHERE AND DICK HAS TO TALK HIM OUT OF IT SO Y E A H

it had been a reasonably quiet night, suspiciously quiet really when bruce looked back on it, but hindsight is 20/20. that didn’t really stop him from blaming himself.

he had repeatedly asked dick to go back home, that he wasn’t needed tonight (really it was the encapsulating fear that was gnawing at his heart, he could not afford to lose another son, he didn’t even know if he could make it after this loss)

dick had interpreted that as go home, you’re going to be deadweight on my mission. this, of course, sparked his famous temper that could only be rivaled by jason, and even then alfred was the only one who could properly tame dick when he was riled up in anger. so, the young vigilante stubbornly refused, stomping his feet onto the ground and staring right up at bruce. a determined glare that would’ve made anyone besides bruce or alfred back down immediately, but even bruce had to admit, it was going to be a lot more work having to deal with dick stubbornly refusing his orders, than it was if he let dick follow along safely, and it was a quiet night anyways.

it wasn’t a quiet night. and bruce had ended up resisting a full spray of fear toxin long enough to detain the criminals and sprint off into an alley. his eyes were squeezed shut, because everywhere he looked he saw a little ghost. bloody, mangled and bruised with a shreded black costume, reaching out to him and asking, “why.” shutting his eyes didn’t exactly stop him from hearing his sons little voice all around him, whywhywhywhyhelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmelookatmelookatmedadpleasedad

dick had blamed himself. after hastily explaining the situation to commissioner gordon he took off. swinging around the city trying to find out where bruce had went. his mind was screaming, asking how stupid he had been to let bruce take the spray for him. his whole point of being out here was to protect bruce, before he self-immolated on his pyre of self-loathing. he then managed to find bruce curled up at the end of a twisted alley.

slowly approaching, dick could hear bruce’s heavy breathing, shuddering with every heave of his lungs. he managed to get close enough to sit in front of him, and whisper, “bruce, can you hear me?”

that had been his first mistake, as bruce’s lens on the cowl blasted open and he backed up even farther away, pushing off from his leg and whispering something. dick could feel his stomach plummet as he swore he could hear bruce muttering, “jason.”

he swallowed the ball of tears climbing up to his throat. he would not cry, because he was not a child. bruce needed him, and he would always be there for him. he tried again, “bruce, i-it’s me. it’s dick, alright?

he knew better then to take off his domino but maybe it would bring bruce some comfort to see blue eyes rather then the green ones haunting his vision. he slowly ripped his domino off, approaching bruce yet again. he promised bruce he wasn’t going to hurt him, he was just sitting. just sitting. he knew better then to startle bruce when under fear toxin, that had been a lesson jason had shown him before, on the rare occasion bruce hadn’t been able to resist long enough for an antidote. it made dick’s eyes burn with unshed tears yet again, because he wasn’t jason. he couldn’t be jason, but that was okay (was it) because he was still going to get bruce out of this.

he sat in front of bruce, crossing his legs and stretching out his hands with his palms up, “see? i’m real, bruce. take my hand and you’ll see, i promise it’s just me. it’s dick, no-not jason, okay? here, take my hand and try.”

he waits a bit, but he stays still. he waits for bruce whose breathing heavily and darting his eyes around, tracking an invisible being dick couldn’t see. his vision then falls on dick, who gives a soft smile and keeps his hands out, stretching them towards bruce more, as an invitation.

it was a swift movement, as bruce pulled dick by his hands and into a tight hug. he held onto him like his life depended on it, pulling him to his chest and pressing his forehead against dick’s head. dick practically melted in his arms, wrapping around bruce in a koala like posture. he had dialled for alfred a while ago, to prep the antidote and to get the car to drive over here on auto drive (dick could drive it, alright? he knew how, jason had taught him but bruce didn’t have much trust in jason’s teachings, after dick and jason had trotted home, with scrapes and cuts all over the place because jason had been trying to teaching dick how to drift, even though neither of them had even been legally allowed to drive. bruce swore these boys would be the end of him)

they stayed like that for a while, bruce rocking back and forth with his son in his arms. driving away all the screams of a dying ghost, leaving only remnants of a whisper. it wasn’t until a while later that dick gently tapped on bruce’s arm, after catching sight of the batmobile pulling up. bruce was paranoid at first, holding dick even tighter and darting his head around, searching for an indescribable danger. dick softly whispered that everything was alright, he just wanted to take bruce to the batmobile, that was all.

bruce had become somewhat lucid, going on one of his only lucid stretches of that night to dick’s dismay but also relief as he managed to pull bruce into the batmobile and lay him down in the back, locking all the doors as he sat in the drivers seat. he knew better then to start driving when bruce would most probably start losing his lucidity and try to claw out of the batmobile. he just started the car and directed it to go home, as he climbed into the back, laying on the car floor next to bruce, just holding his hand that practically engulfed his own.

when they had arrived home, and alfred had been able to inject the antidote in intravels, did dick let himself tear up a bit, as he changed out of his robin uniform. he just wanted jason here, that’s all he wanted. he wanted him to ruffle his hair, give him warm hugs, watch movies with him, hold him tightly and tell him that everything was going to be fine because he was jason’s little brother, and no one would fucking hurt him, not as long as jason lived. dick took a deep breath though, he was fine. he had no need to cry right now, he could do that later. bruce still needed him, his father needed him. so he would suck up his fears, vulnerablities and everything else, and shove it into a little box in his heart, and spin around and go help bruce. with a firm nod that no one saw, dick did just that.

that night, dick had been curled up in bruce’s behemoth of a bed, holding onto bruce tightly, as a movie droned on in the background. bruce was absentmindedly playing his dick’s hair, taking deep breathes and reassuring himself that dick was here, he was safe. no one was going to hurt him. he was currently next to him, not blown up to bits in a warehouse in Ethiopia and the ghost clinging onto his wilting mind was just that. a ghost.

“bruce?”

“hm.”

“i love you.”

with a kiss to the forehead and a sigh bruce whispered, “i love you too.”

SEE I CAN WRITE FLUFF. SOMETIMES. MAYBE. LISTEN HURT AND COMFORT IS MY SHIT OK? AND LIKE IK THIS IS RUSHED BUT I LOVED THE IDEA SO MUCH?? AND I REALLYY LIKE THIS AU SO LIKE YK IMMA RUN WITH IT BC LIKE WHY NOT?? HONESTLY ID LOVE TO WRITE A SERIES OF FICS OF THIS ON AO3 BUT LIKEE SIS DOESNT HAVE THE PATIENCE FOR THAT NOR DOES SHE HAVE THE TALENT BUT THATS FINEEE SO YK TYSM FOR READING HEHE AND UH EXPECT MORE IG I ADORE THIS AU SO :)!!! (OH AND EXCUSE ANY SPELLING MISTAKES IM SORRY, I DEF DID NOT PROOFREAD THIS ENOUGH)

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