Tumgik
#Dick pays for everything despite it being Bruce's money they're using
i-cant-sing · 3 months
Note
I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.
No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.
Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.
Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.
Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).
The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"
And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.
You didn't like either nickname.
Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.
Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.
And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.
Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.
Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.
"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"
After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.
The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.
It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"
Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.
Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.
You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.
You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.
It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.
"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."
She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.
She died on the spot.
Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.
She wasn't a fucking Wayne.
If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.
But you didn't.
When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.
"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"
You sighed. Might as well get this over with.
You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.
"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."
Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"
"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."
"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.
"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.
"But I don't want you to move-"
You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"
Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.
"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"
Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"
"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.
-
They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.
He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.
Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.
"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.
"What now?"
"Where are you going?" Tim asked.
"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.
"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?
"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.
"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.
You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-
They were all dead serious.
"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.
"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.
"Bruce-"
"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."
"I'm fine-"
"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."
You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.
Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.
After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
danny-chase · 3 years
Text
100% Dick, Duke, and Cass go clothes shopping together, that is all.
#they all buy matching dresses#Dick pays for everything despite it being Bruce's money they're using#yeah i see how fashionable Cass is in the Outsiders yeah you can't tell me she and Dick don't share clothes#in my world Duke is super into color theory and saw one of Dick's old outfits and was like yes this - this is it#and so he tags along to info dump about all the extra colors he can see in the stuff Dick buys#this all starts because Cass tells Barbara she wants to go on a date with a girl and Barbara blabs to Dick#and Dick comes over like girl we're going shopping right now you're about to look so good and fruity#Cass deserves to be spoiled more#the boys get their nails done while Cass gets her hair cut#Damian tagged along once and nearly died from boredom#they lost him in a clothes rack#they made it like 3 stores farther and Duke was like... wait#something's missing here#*cue Dick walking around the mall yelling Damian like that scene in Heavy Rain*#Damian's like curled up taking a nap under a pile of sweaters cuz he was just so done#Dick just buys the pile of sweaters and picks up the box and puts it in a shopping cart and pushes Damian around the rest of the time#Duke comes home one day in a disco suit and Bruce has flashbacks just like *not again*#Dick (in tears): that's my brother#anyways they don't actually buy things like 90% of the time they just go and try on absolutely everything#and then get fancy lunch together and talk about their lives#i think it would be like a cute monthly tradition#or they'll go if a gala is coming up#Dick just picks out crap for everyone else because he knows everyone's size and knows they hate shopping and like boring clothes#Duke (watching Dick pick out yet another black suit for Bruce): gross#*proceeds to pick out a lavender tuxedo*#*Cass throws a pair of matching heels at him*#Dick (in tears again): finally someone in this family who also has style#dick grayson#cassandra cain#duke thomas
79 notes · View notes
dickie-gayson · 7 years
Note
Hello! Request: one of the Batboys faking sick to get out of something (my first thought was a gala/party but anything you can come up with is fine). Bonus points if it spirals out of control a bit and everyone is worried so they're benched from patrol / forced to rest for several days.
Thank you for the request! Sorry for the wait, here it is! Idk which batboy you were hoping for but I chose Luke Fox bcus he never gets any love lmfao tho the others do pop up, specifically Jason and Tim.
Luke Fox hated galas. He hated damn near everything about them, from the boring music to the too-expensive food and the elitists and sycophants crawling all over the place. Bruce Wayne's galas? The Worst. There was never more an ostentatious and wasteful display of wealth than when Bruce decided to play up the 'Brucie Wayne' role. Luke knew Bruce hated galas just as much as he did and would much rather spend both his time and money on more useful endeavors, but he needed to keep the charade up. That was why Bruce was throwing some sort of event tonight. Luke was determined to get out of it.
Could any really blame him? He's had more than his fair share of galas growing up as the son of Lucius Fox, friend of Bruce Wayne himself. One would think the annoying patrons would overlook Luke in favor of Bruce, any of his wards, or Lucius, but one would be wrong. See, Luke was a world-famous boxer and mma fighter, not to mention an early graduate of MIT with double degrees. Anyone with working eyes and even half a brain cell could see the potential in the man. So, they all but attacked him with fervor only found in those looking to climb the social ladder and elevate their status. He hated that.
It was a real test of self-control not to knock them all out. Luke doubted Lucius or Bruce would appreciate that. Or Gordon, come to think of it. After all, Luke technically was considered a living weapon due to his extensive, and public, physical training. Hell, Alfred might even be disappointed, and that was something he couldn't stand to do to the aging butler. So, instead of resorting to suplexing someone through a table as he would like to, he figured he'd just not go. Only problem was, his father was expecting him to be there. His father and the various members of the bat-clan who were also forced into going to the hellish event. So, Luke would have to get crafty.
Coming up with a plan was simple enough. He'd just fake sick. Executing that plan was trickier, given the fact that he was surrounded by fucking super-geniuses and detectives. Luke was betting none of the other bats and birds were going to let him off the hook so easily. If one suffered, they were all suffering. He could think of it as a sort of training exercise. If he could fool them, then he was doing great. If he failed? Well, he'd be in for some shit. But hey, the reward outweighed the risk in this case.
Tampering with the thermometer was childs play. When it was to be used, it'd display a temperature between 100.3 to 101.4; sick but not hospital-worthy. The fluctuation in temperatures helped keep the act realistic. He made up a list of symptoms to keep him down and out without being too worrying. Once they all left, he was homefree. It was just a matter of making it all believable. His only real godsend was that he didn't spend too much time around the others for them to know how he acted when ill.
As the time ticked closer to the gala, he knew it was time to get the show on the road. Luke laid on his couch, just in case someone decided to spring through his window because no one knew how to use the damn door. He was forced to get up, however, when there was a knock on his door. With a drawn out groan, the hero shuffled his way to the door, already getting into the role.
When he swung the door open, he was met with the site of his father, dressed to the nines, and staring at him critically. That was definitely unnerving. The Bats weren't the only geniuses. Lucius was quick as a whip and observant as all hell. Not to mention, he raised Luke. Tricking him was a feat. A feat he's completed before, but a feat nonetheless.
"And why aren't you ready for the gala? Don't tell me, you're sick."
The arch of his brow and deadpan stare Luke was getting let him know just how little he was fooling his father. Well, he better amp up his game then. He's fought harder fights than this. Luke made sure to make it seem as if he were shivering despite the warm temperature. He swallowed thickly then winced as if in pain. When he spoke, he tried to make it scratchy and quiet to really sell the whole 'sore throat' bit. Damn, maybe he should have went to Juliard, he was a natural.
"Yeah, sorry dad. I woulda called but I was sleeping. This is one hell of a bug, I don't wanna get you sick."
Lucius just made a low 'mhm' sound as he looked Luke over head-to-toe. The hero kept his posture somewhat hunched. Before his father could interrogate him, Tim appeared next to the older man, dressed to impress. He too looked over the clearly underdressed vigilante with intense scrutiny. There was a sharp look in his blue eyes that said he was not letting Luke get away if he was lying. That made Luke gulp, but for an entirely different reason than faking a sore throat.
"Sick?"
Luke gave an affirmative noise, not wanting to talk more than necessary. Sometimes less was better and all that jazz. That dissecting look only intensified as Tim took in his posture, rumpled pajamas, and 'shivering'. The senior hero gave him an almost cocky tilt of the head as he spoke.
"We should take your temperature, just to be sure it's not too severe."
'Check and mate.' Luke moved slightly to let them into his apartment. Tim made a beeline for his medicine cabinet. The fact that he didn't need to tell Tim where his medical equipment was kept was only moderately unsettling. Luke shifted and then shuddered. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Fooling both Lucius and Tim would be worthy of a damn trophy in his opinion. Only a moment later, Tim was back, thermometer in hand.
It was the moment of truth as he stuck the thermometer in Luke's mouth. What Luke didn't count on was Tim checking his pulse as he waited for the readout on his temperature. Well, shit, that wasn't part of his plan. Tim only made an ambiguous hum before taking the thermometer and reading it.
"101.2, slightly elevated heart rate, a mild cold sweat. Alright, I guess you can sit this out."
Tim gave him another critical stare. Huh, for once his nervousness actually helped him out. No one pointed out that Tim was technically the youngest in the room and Luke didn't need to take orders from him. Luke could pay respect where respect was due, and Tim definitely earned it. Not to mention, he clocked more hero-time than Luke, giving him seniority in that field. Instead, he just gave a grunt.
"Great, thanks. Can I go back to sleep now?"
Both Lucius and Tim looked him over, as if searching for any hint that he was lying. Really, Luke couldn't blame them. One of them was always looking to get out of these events. It was like a competition to see who could bust the most and drag them to suffer with the rest. The two shared a silent look before saying their goodbyes. He gave them weak goodbyes as he made his way to his bedroom. It'd be at least half an hour before he was in the clear. No doubt someone was perched outside, watching like a creep, waiting for him to slip up by going about normally.
So, he laid down and mentally reviewed the new upgrades to his Batwing suit. In his personal opinion, the Batwing suit was sick as hell. Tights were not his thing, thank you. When he was relatively confident everyone else was gone, he got up, ready to have some actual fun.
 To say the night sucked would an understatement and a half. Dick had to separate Damian from the guests three times to keep him from making any of them cry. Jason was hiding in the study after he stole a full tray of hors d'oeuvres and two bottles of champagne for himself. He already made one person leave after 'accidentally' spilling a glass on their suit. Okay, maybe it was two glasses. Or three. Really, who keeps count of that sort of thing? The asshole deserved it, the way he ogled Cass. She was busy charming the socialites with her graceful way on the dancefloor, so Jason decided to defend her honor without actually shooting anyone.
Tim arrived at least thirty minutes late with a look on his face that said 'I would rather be in a ditch somewhere than here'. Maybe the guests were just idiots, because they definitely loved to flock him. Almost as much as they flocked to Dick, poor guy. If there was an award for most ass-grabs avoided, he'd win it, hands down. How he managed to laugh and act like he actually liked being there, none of them could fathom. They chalked it up to his natural showmanship, because he sure bitched about the event as much as the rest of them.
Steph and Harper got passes on the event as they weren't in the public spotlight like the others. Kate just straight up refused to come and no one wanted to try and force her otherwise. They liked their jaws intact. Jason was lucky and could get away with being seen as only a family friend. Sadly, there were too many pictures of him with the others not to be known to some degree. Duke seemed damn near overwhelmed in the crowded ballroom. This was certainly not something he was used to. Dick and Jason both remembered being in that position. None of the three were from any degree of wealth, so it was definitely a culture shock to some degree. Luke was nowhere to be found. According to Tim, he was out sick. The others called bullshit.
It was around the fourth hour when everything got even worse. Apparently Scarecrow and Poison Ivy decided to team up and combine their scientific minds to create a toxin to poison the citizens of Gotham with. Bruce figured one of the rogues would try and cause a problem that night. Why wouldn't they? Oracle was on standby, ready to call in the big guns in case things got too out of control. Thankfully, Batwoman, Spoiler, and Bluebird were on call and managed to control the situation before things got too crazy. Seeing as Jason had already snuck away, Red Hood managed to make an appearance in an attempt to help.
What made it particularly troublesome was the toxin. It presented itself as a fast-acting sickness akin to the flu. Only, it was highly communicable through the air as well as bodily fluids and if one attempted to take medication, it would react negatively, sending the victim into anaphylactic shock. It could cause serious damage or even death if handled improperly. Even worse, it caused vivid delusions and high energy in its most infectious stage, urging the host to run about and spread it further. This was going to be a long, long night. What none were expecting was the worried look Tim cast Bruce.
"Bruce, Luke was sick earlier. It's possible he was infected. Initial symptoms align with how the toxin presents itself in the early stages. Shakes, cold sweat, elevated pulse, lethargy, sore throat."
Well, that didn't sound good. As Bruce worked on an antidote to distribute, he sent Tim and Jason to swing by Luke's to see how he was now. It was still unknown if the host would turn volatile if confronted and it would be better to have back up against one of their own. Especially one of their own who was very well-known to punch really, really hard. The others were tasked with trying to quarantine the sick citizens and prevent further outbreak.
Tim made sure to wear a rebreather to prevent accidental infection. Jason had his helmet that naturally filtered the air he breathed. What they definitely didn't expect to see was Luke dancing around to Ariana Grande in nothing but his boxers, socks, and a button up shirt with a pair of sunglasses on. The two heroes paused in surprise as Luke continued to really get into the music. Jason made a mental note to add 'good dancer' to his hero biography. Who knows? It could come in handy. 'Good singer' could safely be left out, however. Without wasting any more time, they crept into the apartment to confront the man.
��Luke damn near had a heart attack when he turned around, mid-note, and noticed Jason and Tim in his apartment, staring at him. He made a mental note to ask Oracle to look over his security because what the fuck. He immediately resumed his sickly stature, even though it was way past obvious he was fine. What can he say? He's committed. It was the rebreather Tim was using that made him hesitate. Rebreathers usually meant bad stuff.
"Uh...I can explain?"
Instead of answering, Tim took out a small needle from his harness. They wanted to take a blood sample. Alright, something was definitely up. Jason edged toward him with caution. Both of their postures suggested they were waiting for an attack.
"Seriously, what's going on? Why do you have those masks?"
He was growing more and more nervous with each second. Jason finally spoke up.
"Ivy and Crane poisoned the city. You might have been infected."
Oh. That certainly explained things. Of all nights for Luke to fake sick, those two maniacs decide to attack like this. Great. He was going to get poked and prodded for hours now. Can't a guy enjoy music and dancing in his underwear anymore? Ariana Grande was his shit, and now he had to go to that dank, depressing cave because some people just can't let others live.
"Guys, listen, I'm fine. This? It was all a lie. I just didn't feel like going to the gala. If I was sick, I definitely wouldn't be dancing around."
He straightened his posture and took off the sunglasses. There was no trace of his 'illness' anymore. Neither Tim or Jason looked convinced. Instead, Tim shook his head slowly, clearly worried.
"Delusions and manic energy. We gotta get him to the cave, fast."
They both moved, ready to knock him out if necessary. Rather than having to deal with that massive headache, he just sighed in defeat. There was no way he'd be able to take Jason and Tim in a fight. Hell, he was in his underwear. Jason pulled a surgical looking mask from one of his many pockets and shoved it toward him. Luke just groaned in slight aggravation as he put it on.
"I'm telling you, I'm not sick."
Instead of responding, Tim radioed to someone, probably Bruce, that they were bringing him in. Jason stood at the ready. What, did they think he was going to go ballistic and try to murder them? He wasn't suicidal, thanks. At least they let him put on pants before they dragged him to his impending doom. Either they'd find out he lied to get out of the gala or they were convinced he was sick and dying. No matter which way Luke looked, he was royally screwed. The worst part was being forced to sit in the quarantine cell for fourteen hours while they ran test after test and worked on a cure for the city. It was somewhere around the eleventh hour that Luke developed a cough. He just groaned and let his head fall back against the wall. Well, this was great. Next time, he was just going to go to the damn gala and let someone else lie.
3 notes · View notes