#ages: you/damian 14 freshman; tim/steph 15/16 sophomores but tim takes all junior level classes; jason/roy 17; dick/barb 23 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

albatmobile · 2 years

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The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 2

𓅪 Navigating the present is hard when your past refuses to die.

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for Roy and Jason's child.

𓅪 Rated: M | 9.8k fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter Two: The Wilder Mile | ao3 - wattpad

THEN

Being new (and poor) didn’t help your situation. You figured this out early on.

Somehow, you could all be wearing the same prissy uniforms, but these rich kids could sniff out that you didn’t belong.

Because of this, you spent your first day of freshman year at Gotham Academy with your head down. You only briefly stopped to chat with your locker neighbor, a raven-haired sophomore, about who you knew in common from your old school.

As it turned out, you both had the misfortune of knowing Bart Allen. You had smiled when he said that but didn’t linger much longer as you needed to get to class.

It had gotten out by your second day that you were there on scholarship from Star City, “which makes so much more sense, poor thing!" and, “I knew she didn’t belong.” You heard the whispers in each hall you passed, heard the laughter during each period you attended. Not even in the fucking bathroom, were you safe from the gossip mill.

By your third day, you'd made peace with the fact that you’d be a leper for the rest of your four years. No, really, you were fine with it.

Nothing you weren’t used to at home anyway.

You sighed and snuck to the back corner of the library to eat lunch.

You’d found the spot whilst roaming around in between class periods. Once you’d seen no one go near it, you decided to hunker down and make it your new hideaway, hoping the other students would leave you the fuck alone.

Every now and then, you’d feel a certain scratching feeling on the back of your neck. It was almost as if someone were watching you, but you highly doubted it. The towering bookcases surrounding you did a pretty decent job of concealing you.

You chalked it up to still being paranoid on account of your shit first days at the academy because each time you looked around, all you saw were books.

In the days following, you’d try to talk with your locker neighbor more but ultimately didn’t want to make him feel like he had to talk to you. The number of times you bumped into each other at your lockers was uncanny, but he didn’t have to force himself to talk to you every time.

Ah, yes. The burden of anxiety.

“What’s your name?” the raven asked you on Thursday of your first week. You told him. “Star City, right?” you nodded, retrieving your books silently, giving him the chance to dismiss you, but he prodded on. Did he actually want to talk to you? Maybe he was the weird one- not you. Or maybe he didn’t actually hate you like everyone else apparently did? “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, flashing you his abashed blue eyes. “I never introduced myself and I keep pestering you.”

Damn, should you be asking him about more stuff in return, then?

In your reclusive state at Gotham Academy, you'd somewhat forgotten what normal, friendly (emphasis on friendly)conversations were like. Ultimately you'd come to the assumption that no one wanted to talk to you, so it was best just to keep quiet and to yourself.

“You’re good,” you gave him a double thumbs up. Damn, that was fucking lame. You cursed yourself internally. The first person who actually liked talking to you was, you noted with a slight blush, hot as fuck, and here you were, screwing it all up. “Do you play any games?”

You can't help but cringe. What the fuck was wrong with you? Yes, you should be asking questions, but you didn't need him to know you were a loser this early on.

Instead of looking at you weirdly, the sophomore just nodded excitedly, “For sure. We should game together sometime.” The bell rang soon after and you instantly realized his proposition to be an empty invitation. He shut his locker and stuck his bony, pale hand out to you, “I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Cool,” you nodded, losing yourself in the depths of his hypnotizing blue eyes. “I’ll see you around, I guess,” you motioned around both of your lockers lamely, referencing the fact you’d see him next period to switch out books just like always.

“For sure.”

You stared after his retreating form and sighed, leaning your back against your locker to shut it, “Can I just have one normal interaction for once?”

“Do you talk to yourself a lot?”

You startled, turning immediately to the source of a new male voice.

Your eyes traveled up the form of the skinny, short kid standing next to your locker. His neatly combed ink-black hair contrasted starkly against his tanned skin.

He squinted at you, seeming to recognize you were acknowledging his lackluster stature with distaste.

You blushed at having been caught and hugged your books closer to your chest as if they would somehow help conceal your embarrassment. “No,” you spat out too quickly to be believable.

“Loon,” he responded boredly, continuing to block your path.

You squinted at him, “What do you want?” You attempted to step around him, but he swiftly stepped in front of you again, causing you to huff and back up. “If you want lunch money or some shit, you picked the wrong girl.”

At Star City, sure, people had picked on you, but it was nothing ever violent. This kid, though? This kid looked like the definition of violence.

This time, instead of waiting for his response, you spun on your heel and went, what you realized too late was, in the opposite direction of where you actually needed to go. At least, you thought… You were still very much in the process of figuring out the layout of this giant, castle-like school. Hogwarts and those moving stairs had nothing on Gotham Academy's labyrinth-like hallways.

You heard his light footfall gaining behind you and wondered worriedly if the dude really was going to give you trouble.

“You’re going the wrong way,” he said tonelessly after you’d rounded your third random corner.

What the fuck was his problem?

“Yeah,” you said shortly, “some little twerp was blocking my way.”

“Hey!” He hissed before mumbling something under his breath. "You're the little one here, dumbass."

You quickly spun around to face him.

From this close, you could see the annoyance trickling out from his deep honeyed eyes. You hadn't been able to see the extent of their color by your locker, but near the huge glass window you were both facing, you could clearly see the intricate layers of yellow and green hidden within their depths.

You snapped yourself out of it.

Now was not the time to be checking this creep out.

Before he could say anything else, you continued straight from where you’d been heading, hoping you might end up circling back around to your locker. As the environment around you continued to look completely unfamiliar, you began to doubt your logic completely.

At this point, you were totally lost.

The kid appeared noiselessly behind you to grab your lower arm with a sure, strong grip.

You glanced up at him uneasily and your eyes danced with his in some sort of weird battle. With how young he looked, he had to be a freshman like you, though his strength was something someone way out of high school might have.

Definitely weird.

You weren’t going to go cross-eyed over this kid and he could tell. He was the one who ended up breaking the silence. “You’re going to art, aren’t you?” It didn’t seem like a question, but you nodded anyway, already wanting this interaction to be over and done with. “Follow me.”

You sat there for a few seconds as your indecisiveness kicked in.

Stay lost or follow the kid psychopath?

You begrudgingly went with the latter, noting again just how young he looked.

No matter how young he was, the fact still stood that the kid was aggressive and cryptic- something you didn't appreciate in the slightest. You supposed it should be reassuring he knew the way but, if anything, the kid put you on edge.

“I didn’t know they had a middle school here, too,” you jested as payback for his odd, if not hostile, introduction.

“That’s a horrible insult,” he said matter-of-factly, not missing a beat while glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes. “There’s also an elementary where you should clearly be right now,” the kid sighed as if unimpressed with your attempt to sass him.

"Please," you continued on, waving him off unperturbed, “My tits would say college, easy.”

You'd been expecting an eye roll or some kind of 'as if' comment, but, instead, his cheeks stained dark red against his dark skin. He soon looked anywhere but at you. You clearly weren’t ready for that reaction as you quickly followed suit, turning your gaze to the polished granite floor below.

With one more turned corner, you finally started to recognize the art wing hallway. “There’s a restroom over there, too, just so you know,” he pointed at a wooden, unmarked door as he broke the awkward silence once again.

“Okay,” you replied blankly at his random advice.

He seemed as sheepish as his RBF would let him as the two of you closed in on your classroom.

He instinctively held the door open for you, something you noted gratefully, though surprised nonetheless. You nodded to him, making brief eye contact again when you walked past.

As soon as you entered the room, the pre-period chatter dulled.

It was a phenomenon you'd become accustomed to at Gotham Academy, though your stomach still clenched subconsciously at the unwarranted attention. As much as you hated to admit how much it affected you, it was hard to have everyone in the school judge you like this without ever talking to you.

You wouldn’t blame the brooding asshole sitting next to you for not liking you after you'd insulted him, but everyone else? They could all straight fuck off.

You brushed off the silence as you sat down at the only empty table left, figuring this was better than the harsh insults and accusations you'd been getting.

The stool beside you scraped horrifically against the cement floor as the creepy kid from earlier took a seat next to you.

You gave him a confused glance, but he merely pulled out his phone and began tapping away at it. In response, you faced forward to stare down at your empty sketchbook.

“I heard she’s not even smart,” one girl said. You look up hesitantly to see her sneering at you with morbid glee.

Oh, great, you thought. Here comes the usual shit.

Just one day. Was it too much to ask for just one day of peace?

“I hear she gave a bunch of blowjobs to get that scholarship,” another kid said.

The kid next to you shifted in his seat, but you didn’t bother to see if he was glaring at you or not. He’d surely heard the ruckus by now; how could he not?

“Her? No way. Who would want… that?” Soon, the entire table and the one next to them were chiming in.

“God, I bet she stinks. Talk about a fucking charity case,” a blonde loudly exclaimed.

“What a whore.”

“She's literally a slut!”

Everyone at the tables flanking yours had joined in at that point, adding to the cacophony of slander.

You weren't surprised but disheartened to hear the name-calling and rumors getting so aggressive. You still didn't understand what you’d done to make these people talk about you in such a way.

After all, how could you help being poor?

The tanned kid beside you seemed to agree with your internal train of thought. When you finally bothered to look over at him, you saw him sneering at the other tables.

“Elliot,” he barked in a way that made you lean away from him. His tone demanded attention and everyone was quick to oblige. “You have no right to talk after the 8th grade graduation party this past May.”

People around the classroom quietly giggled and 'ooo'ed.'

The corners of her mouth instantly dropped at the dig. She gaped at him while her friends, who, in turn, glared at you.

“Big mistake, newbie.”

You were pretty sure her last name was Elliot, not her first, but then again, you knew nothing about Gotham after spending your entire life in Star City.

“But I didn’t say shit!” you exclaimed helplessly.

It didn’t matter anyway.

You hesitantly looked up again to see the entire group still sneering in your direction.

There was a sudden bang and your table shook in its wake.

“You’re a pathetic waste of space,” the kid stood up so abruptly he knocked over his metal stool, leaving it to crash and clank to the ground below. “All you’re good for is spewing slander, you annoying-ass cretin!”

Your eyes widened at the commotion he was causing on your behalf.

Why was he sticking up for you like this?

The teacher appeared out of nowhere, effectively shutting the class up as he finally started the lesson.

About fucking time, you thought to yourself.

“Damian, sit down,” your teacher said exasperatedly.

The tanned kid, no, Damian, you corrected yourself, muttered to himself.

He picked up his seat and aggressively dropped it upright to stand again. The stool screeched obnoxiously as he situated himself with all eyes in the class on him. Most, you noted, looked fearful, while others looked downright offended at his presence.

The gossip continued, albeit in hushed whispers, as the teacher reviewed basic watercolor techniques, something you were already good at.

You zoned out the lesson, only to be brought back into the moment by Damian's huffs of frustration.

Damian, you’d noticed from the corner of your eye, kept peeking over at you occasionally, squinting calculatingly, then would slump as he went back to his canvas. That was how it continued until the bell rang to release you to next period.

“Those inbred, trust fund fucks don’t know what they’re talking about.” That was all Damian said about the incident as you both left the art room.

You laughed at his savageness, "Thanks."

You thought you were odd? This kid was way up there with you.

“Are you headed to the library to eat?” he asked nonchalantly.

You raised an eyebrow at him and he blushed in response, completely avoiding eye contact with you. “Uh, yeah,” you hesitated, “I hadn’t realized my lunch spot had been spotted, I guess,” you said, rubbing at the back of your head.

You felt completely off guard, knowing that someone had been watching you. No, not someone; Damian had been watching you.

He looked at you expectantly, but you were unsure as to why. Wouldn't a kid like him have friends already? It's not like he'd be waiting on an invitation to lunch with you. Not like anyone would, for that matter, you thought bitterly.

You continued back to the hallway where you’d met an hour ago and tried to part ways once again.

“See you in class,” you said, going to dial your locker code and grab your lunch.

You added your copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray to the growing pile of supplies in your arms before finally making off toward the library. You wouldn't need anyone's help finding the way, considering you’d already memorized the way... Or so you thought.

You felt Damian’s presence behind you the whole way. You only acknowledged him by thanking him when he’d grabbed some falling textbooks of yours and when he corrected you on which turn to take.

What a fucking creep.

You settled into your hidden lounge area with your newfound friend(?) in complete silence.

He single-handedly slipped your heavy textbooks onto the table in front of you with inhumane ease, reminding you of his strong grip on your arm from earlier. He looked at you with an intensity you were beginning to realize was natural for him as you bit into your sandwich.

“What?” you asked around a mouth full.

He simply tsk’d at your comically stuffed cheeks and began meticulously setting out the compartments of his bento box, then his napkin, then utensils on top, then another napkin to set on his lap.

You rolled your eyes at the cumbersome display before cracking your book open to where you’d last left off.

It was a sad book. One that made your stomach twist in the morbid realization of what true darkness lies within everyone. The dark and the light. The kind and cruel. There was balance and consequence. You’d realized Dorian’s plights against himself are what ultimately caused his undoing and, subsequently, the desecration of who he once was.

“Are you on an internal nerd rant or something?”

You immediately snapped out of your conclusion. You bit off another bite testily, “At least I’m old enough to read chapter books.”

“I do not look that young,” he exclaimed with a hint of exasperation.

You shrugged and held up your book. “Maybe not, Damian Gray,” you wiggled the cover at him condescendingly, much to his chagrin.

“You're a nerd,” he finally seemed comfortable enough with you to start eating. You wouldn’t pry. “Besides reading basic literature and being a watercolor Van Gogh, what do you do.”

“Did he even do watercolors?” you questioned his odd logic.

“No, I don’t think he did them,” he rolled his eyes. “He used them in over a hundred paintings.”

“So you like art then?” you asked, half-interested, mostly trying to get back to your book.

“Sure.” It seemed like an understatement, but you waited for him to continue. “I’m not very good at it, though.”

You tried to think back to class earlier, realizing you hadn’t been paying attention to his work as you'd been more occupied with keeping your head down.

“Anyone can do anything,” you said with a tiny shrug. He nodded appreciatively at that and dug into his lunch with more gusto. From there, you sat in companionable silence up until the lunch bell rang. “See you around, Damian,” you began picking up your things and collected both of your trash.

Normally, you wouldn’t do this, but after he'd stuck up for you earlier, you wanted to show him in some small way you were appreciative.

“Would you want to show me watercolors after school?” you turned around to see a somewhat shy, no, uncertain, looking Damian.

You shifted around your books to look at him at his odd request, “Uh, sure.”

You felt a bit anxious being social outside of school for who knows how many hours. Especially with this kid you really didn’t even know. Sure, you’d spent less than an hour with him at lunch and it had been fine, but your social anxiety, coupled with being a social outcast at school, made you extra wary of students here. However, you begrudgingly reminded yourself that you shouldn’t be turning down friends.

That was for sure.

“I remember your locker from earlier,” you smiled at that. “It’s right by Tim’s,” he clarified, somewhat embarrassed.

You nodded, “Oh, yeah!” you two walked out of the library doors and into the bustling hallway. “He was the first person to talk to me,” you winced, not knowing if you should’ve revealed that kind of information.

Hell, Damian had seen just how bad it could get in art earlier, so who really cared?

He merely glanced at you out of the corner of his sharp eyes, revealing no hint of emotion beneath them. Creepy. “Tim will walk home with us,” he said. “Probably bringing his annoying friend Brown, too.”

“That’s a weird name.” It reminded you of shit.

“It’s because she’s shitty,” he said simply as if it were obvious.

You laughed at him having practically read your unspoken thoughts. “I’m sure as long as she’s not like the girls in our art class, she shouldn’t be too shitty.”

He smiled at you, leaving you to blush a bit at his odd, somewhat off-putting charm.

“You may be right,” he said your name. “I’ll meet you by your locker. Try to find a good piece of literature in the meantime.”

You gawked at him, leaving him enough time to exit before you could formulate a response, “Hey!” you yelled after his retreating form, earning you multiple dirty glares in the hallway. You sighed and shrugged to yourself as you headed off to your final classes, nothing you weren’t used to at this point.

At least it was looking somewhat up?

•

True to his word, Damian met you by your locker, but not before Tim.

You greeted him kindly as you opened your locker to deposit your books and take home the workbook you would need for water coloring with Damian. Out of nowhere, a blonde girl appeared beside him and began blatantly sizing you up.

“Brown, right?” you smiled as you reached your hand out to shake hers.

She snorted, pointing to Damian, who'd silently snuck up from behind, startling you somewhat more than you’d care to admit. “You’ve been hanging around little bird too long, huh?”

“Hardly,” you both said at the same time in completely different tones. Damian’s annoyed, yours dismissive.

Tim and Stephanie exchanged an amused glance.

She winked at you and nudged your shoulder as you fell into step with them. “It’s Stephanie, by the way.”

“I was completely off,” you laughed sheepishly, but you were glad that she seemed to warm up to you so quickly. “So, you guys are sophomores, right?” you asked as the group exited through the main doors and into the affluent courtyard entrance.

“Hells yeah,” Stephanie nodded from in front of you. “Worst year EVER! Tim already knows that, though, dontcha?” she turned to the raven-haired man and urged him to reply by poking at him until he finally shook off her pestering.

“What does that mean?” you tried to keep the conversation going. You already felt intrusive tagging along; the last thing you wanted was for it to be awkward, too.

“Technically yes, technically no,” Tim replied modestly, finally giving in to Stephanie’s little pokes, “I’m in all junior classes right now, but, yes, I’m almost 16.”

“We get it, Drake,” Damian had his arms crossed as he walked behind him, next to you. You were starting to notice his habit of calling people by their last names. “You’re a lame nerd, and so is she,” he threw a thumb your way, which you quietly protested. “Can we all shut up about it now?”

You’d already seen Damian get hostile in art, but you were starting to see a habit.

“Jeez, Dami,” Tim turned around to ruffle Damian’s dark, perfectly placed hair. “I’m sure she’s not,” Tim smiled at you and you swore you saw Damian’s eyes flash red.

You didn't know much, but you knew enough to know this wasn’t going to end well.

“Fuck you, Timothy,” his voice turned ice cold as he pushed at Tim’s slender back with an unreasonable force. Tim didn’t seem phased in the slightest, yet again, by Damian’s aggressive nature. Instead, he shoo'ed him off like an incessant bug.

It made you chuckle a bit.

Their bickering raged on and you quickly realized, after passing the main streets, that you were headed deeper into Bristol where the super-rich lived.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? Yes, you should have realized that they probably lived somewhere nice since they attended the academy, but the richest area in Gotham? Come on now.

The trees were plentiful in this area and the sidewalks weren’t deathtraps like the rest of the city. There were even people jogging alone with headphones in- what?! In your dangerous side of town, you could hardly walk with your phone in your pocket without becoming a mugging target.

The group made another turn onto a long, grand street where the huge mansions loomed dauntingly over each side of you, snickering that you didn’t belong here.

You looked ahead, straight down the middle, where a giant foreboding… castle? No, mansion? sat affixed with a gigantic monogrammed metal gate.

Tim and Damian were still smacking at each other when Stephanie randomly and quickly decided to turn around to walk in the grass beside you. “You’re new, right?”

You nodded, “It’s still my first week.”

You were expecting the normal ‘how are you liking it?’ or ‘who’s your homeroom teacher?’ type of question, so you weren’t at all prepared for her next question. “I heard,” you tensed instantly, but she either didn’t notice or didn't care. “So, what’s your deal anyway?”

“Please, Brown,” upon hearing what she said, Damian abandoned his bickering to intervene in your conversation. “You may very well be dumb, so don’t pretend to be.”

Stephanie ripped her glance from you to Damian and pinched her face together, “The hell does that mean, asshole?”

“See, you really are an idiot,” he let out an exasperated sigh.

Tim seemed extremely uncomfortable and focused his attention strictly on the insane mansions you were passing. You felt like doing the same, but your eyes refused to leave the pavement to avoid the conflict raging on- something you were having to get used to in Gotham.

“Feel free to explain, baby face,” she taunted.

You felt Damian stir angrily from beside you. “You know what people have been saying,” Damian glared at her menacingly enough to make you glad that you weren’t on the receiving end of it. “Don’t play dumb,” he said simply.

“This is why no one wants to hang out with you except the new girl, hellspawn!” Stephanie spat coldly. “With your angry little outbursts and shit. Makes sense your only friend would also be the only other social outcast at GA,” she added with a huff, deflecting Damian’s attacks that he’d already begun throwing her way.

Damn, that's really what people thought of you?

It had been a mistake to come.

You desperately wanted to tell Damian that you’d just teach him during lunch tomorrow so you wouldn't be intruding, but he was too busy getting up in Stephanie's face to notice you trying to get his attention.

“I should say the same for you, you nosey hag! Why I oughta-”

“It’s true,” Tim said quietly from beside her, causing her to turn quickly and Damian to cease his verbal (and physical) assault.

Now, you felt infinitely more embarrassed. This had definitely been a mistake.

Stephanie perked up at the sound of Tim taking her side, but you felt like complete and utter shit. All those times at your locker, Tim was just being nice to you because he felt like he had to.

Your legs hesitated in an attempt to retrace your steps and go back to your shitty, empty apartment to be alone.

"What does that mean, Drake?" Damian growled, redirecting his assault toward the raven-haired sophomore.

"I mean, what you said is right, Damian." Relief flooded instantly with the realization that, no, Tim was actually just being nice to you because he wanted to.

"Oh," Damian relaxed at the same time Stephanie huffed.

"Whatever," she flipped her blonde hair in Tim's expectant face, though he made no move to dodge the attack.

You didn’t know these people and even though Damian had actually seemed kind, you shouldn’t have accepted a group hangout with people you didn't know after the extreme bullying that had been going on.

The spat then moved from Stephanie and Damian to Stephanie and Tim. Damian used this as an excuse to focus his attention back on you.

“What’s wrong?” you’d never heard his voice sound so soft.

You looked up from the ground. “It’s just,” you paused, not sure if you wanted to continue. Maybe it was the fear of rejection, maybe it was what Stephanie said, or maybe it was something else entirely. “If you have all these friends,” you gestured between the three of them. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Don’t ask dumb questions. It makes you sound insecure,” he seemed to mean it in the kindest way possible, but even still, it did nothing to put you at ease.

Damn, if he hadn’t hit the nail right on the head, though.

You had been feeling insecure recently. It was hard not to with the constant attacks. Not to say you were anybody at Star City, choosing mostly to operate under the radar, but here, not only were you on the radar, but you were a lone dot. These rich kids seemed to get off on treating you like some kind of taboo sideshow.

You'd somewhat expected Damian to act like Bart: say hi in the hall and make sure to give you notes to catch up on when you’d been out sick, but that was it.

That was all you’d known as far as real kindness, even at Star City.

You’d never hung out outside of school, let alone in it. You always focused more on your novels and comic books rather than the petty drama unfolding in middle school.

Damian was basically your first real friend, you realized.

“Okay,” you said, wanting to appease your friend.

It seemed to work because he knocked into your shoulder lightly. In response, you did the same back, this time with more force.

“Careful,” he said your name lowly. He then dug his bony shoulder into your fleshy one, leaving you to yelp. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a girl.”

“Damn, Damian,” Stephanie interrupted with a Cheshire grin. “You’re soo smooth with the ladies,” she nudged at him, but he didn’t seem to fall for the bait this time.

He sighed dramatically, distancing himself from beside you, “You’re not worth my time, Brown.”

Tim glanced back between the two of you with a casual calculation that made you wince. Why couldn’t they see you were just friends? More specifically, only friends because everyone else in your grade and others seemed to hate your guts if Stephanie’s reaction was anything to go by.

As you passed the last few houses on the block, you quickly realized you were approaching the biggest one.

Just who had you befriended?

Actually, how were these three even friends? It seemed like all they did was hate on each other and argue about dumb shit, you noted to yourself as you attempted to keep in step with their fast pace.

“How did you guys become friends, anyway?” you asked.

“You mean she doesn’t know?” Stephanie giggled mirthfully.

You were starting not to like this Stephanie girl. First, being called an outcast and now acting like you're dumb? Yeah, not the greatest first impression. Maybe it was just an off day for her, you shrugged internally.

“Shut up,” Damian scowled, glancing between the three of you.

Tim looked back at you with an intensity in his blue eyes that you couldn’t place, “You’ve never heard of Bruce Wayne?”

You nodded at him, “I don’t live under a rock,” you rolled your eyes lightly, “but what does he have to do with anything?”

“Oh, man,” Stephanie laughed. “This is good.”

You couldn’t tell if you liked her or not yet as you didn’t see what was so funny. Hell, you couldn't tell if she liked you or not as she went from insulting you to messing with you- it was confusing the fuck out of you.

Damian could sense your annoyance. “Tim and I live with him.”

You’d thought back to what the news said about Bruce Wayne. He was rich, a playboy, and he adopted a fuck ton of kids, so WAIT... Did that mean...?

“You live with him, or you guys are family?” You’re shocked at the revelation, looking between the two boys for similarities you’d missed. You noted that, aside from their dark hair and aptitude to bicker, they truly bore no resemblance to one another in the slightest.

“Sure,” Tim said just as Damian replied, “Hell no.”

Stephanie snorted. “They love each other, though,” she assured you with a devilish smirk. “Don’t you guys?”

“You are on my last nerve today, Brown,” Damian’s eyes bore menacingly into the back of her head. “That’s not a place you want to be.”

“Seconded,” Tim added, flicking her nose playfully.

You nodded at the information and figured you would do your research once you got home. That and treat yourself to the latest issue of your favorite comic for dealing with this social shitshow. Maybe a face mask, too.

“Jeez, what is this? Hate on Stephanie day?” she swiveled to give everyone her best version puppy dog eyes, but your sympathetic smile was the only positive response she was met with.

You’d always been a people pleaser. It seemed Damian was definitely not that and Tim? Tim seemed more distracted by your presence than anything.

“It is now,” Damian muttered as your group approached the daunting gates of what you now knew to be Wayne Manor.

Tim kept glancing back at you sporadically, which had you checking over your uniform and hair. Did you look like shit or something?

Even Stephanie seemed to notice his incessant staring. “You good?” Tim blushed and swatted at her fingers, which poked him all over.

Maybe earlier you’d mistaken her forward behavior as being rude like the rest of the people you’d encountered at Gotham. Maybe she was treating you like this because she liked you?

Girls were too complicated.

“I think for once,” Tim said as Stephanie backed off enough to let him enter the gate code. “Damian and I can agree on something.”

She gasped as your group continued up the expansive driveway, “BITCH!”

You tuned out the screaming as you thought about all the parties you’d read about in the paper. Each of them taking place quite literally where you were stepping. All the elegant gowns and cars that had crossed this very path over the years and now you in your Gotham Academy uniform.

You’d realized that the group was a lot of energy to deal with about halfway through the walk here. Not that it was bad, but after the week you’d had, you already felt so drained.

It sucked because you knew hanging out with people did nothing but benefit everything you’d been experiencing since the move, yet, at the same time, it was so, so much. You reminded yourself of your comic and face mask and persevered while trying not to let your energy bring the group down.

Damian said your last name as you walked into the house- manor. “Let’s go to my room.”

You hadn’t been able to take in… well, anything before Damian was pulling you by the arm like a rag doll.

“HEY!” Stephanie whine-screamed from the foyer. “What if we wanted to hang out with the new girl, too!” you cringed internally at her use of the nickname that others had used as an insult against you all week. After your rocky start with Stephanie, you weren't sure you necessarily appreciated it coming out of her mouth either.

As if her wish had been answered, Damian, along with you in tow, ran right into something- no, someone- as you rounded the corner to get to the stairs.

“Woah there, Dami!” you and Damian looked up at the most gorgeous, ripped human ever.

Your eyes followed a chiseled path upward.

The man’s olive skin glistened wet from whatever pool he’d been swimming in. You had no doubt that this place had a ridiculous amount of them. The man's bold choice to wear a royal blue Speedo was making it difficult for you to swallow, let alone maintain normal, conversational eye contact.

He casually wiped his dark, wet locks off and flipped the matching blue towel he was holding over his muscled shoulder. Who knew you could be so attracted to that shit? A shoulder? Come on, girl, this was too thirsty even for you. One thing was for sure, though; this guy looked like he’d popped straight out of one of your comic books.

“Grayson, move,” Damian demanded with his signature glare. "I'm not kidding."

“Okay, baby bird,” he made to move out of the way, then winked a cerulean eye and quickly shifted back, "after you introduce me to your girlfriend.”

At that, you and Damian both looked disgusted enough that the man burst into a fit of teary laughter.

Damian tried to use the distraction to move past him, but the older man still refused to move, even with tears completely shrouding his eyes.

At this point, Tim sprang up from behind you and Damian to mediate, but Grayson, as Damian had referred to him, barely acknowledged him when he came into view. This all changed when Tim opened his mouth.

“She knows Bart,” it was all Tim said, but it had evidently been enough.

The man let out a long and excited 'ohhhh!' and smiled softly, completely shifting from a menacing annoyance to a charming puppy.

“I don’t think I introduced myself,” he’d had crossed his arms to fend off Damian, but now it meant you were face to face with his rippling biceps. Even as he unfurled them, you could still see the full power of their aggressive definition. You were definitely blushing now. “I’m Dick,” he offered you a titan-sized hand to shake.

You took it lightly, not that it mattered with his strong grip while telling him your name. You wouldn’t be able to think of a dick joke until he was way out of your vantage point, let alone say anything intelligent until then.

“You probably never met his cousin, but Wally and I go waaay back, if you know what I mean,” Dick sighed and moved from the front of the staircase as he reminisced. “We used to sneak out on the weekends together to… do homework,” he caught himself and nodded to you and all the rest of the high schoolers in the room. “Oh man, and during prom when we,” he smiled and seemingly dropped back into the present again, “danced. Sober. And did nothing else,” he looked pointedly at you and Damian. “Maybe don’t do what I did?” he muttered to himself, lost in thought as he suddenly took off deeper into Wayne Manor, still in a Speedo, you might add, but damn, you were not expecting what was behind him at all.

Your eyes bulged at the juiciest ass you’d ever seen on anyone, regardless of gender.

Damian rolled his eyes at your incessant staring and insisted you follow him, “Now that the troll isn’t in the way.”

"Yeah, troll," you said distractedly, letting Damian lead you up the stairs and down a hallway of dark, wooden doors.

He shook his head at your entranced state as he reached a random door and pulled you inside.

The room was warm and quaint, with light leaking from the undrawn cream curtains. Easels and half-finished work were somehow in an organized clutter about the floor and took up nearly the rest of the room.

He said your name immediately, snapping you out of your thoughts, “Don’t look at my shit.”

You laughed and picked up the closest stack to you, “How can I not?” you gestured down to the very angry acrylic scratches for lines on the thin canvases in your hand. “You fighting some demons, buddy?” You teased his aggressive art style.

“You have no idea,” came his cryptic reply.

You ignored his statement and continued your inspection of the room. “Do you even own a watercolor set?” You looked around and only saw the same types of paint tubes.

He looked proud as he shuffled around stacks of his artwork, “I had Pennyworth order us some.”

Even more cryptic. Awesome.

This family just got weirder and weirder the longer you stuck around. It was honestly a wonder you hadn’t run back to your apartment at this point.

“Okay.”

He smirked as he shoved a Schmincke palette into your face, “Tell me I don’t have the necessary supplies now,” he proudly said your last name. You ogled at the expensive palette, reaching out for it, which he regretfully obliged. “Don’t get your drool on it now,” he warned, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the thought.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off. “Only in your dreams, twerp.”

“Enough,” he demanded sternly, effectively scaring the shit out of you.

“Woah, there,” you used one hand to hold the $400 watercolors and the other to imitate a white flag. He’d used that same tone so many times earlier, but never towards you. “I didn’t mean anything by it, s’just a nickname,” you quickly handed him back the palette and made off toward an empty easel in an attempt to change the mood. “Do you want me to teach you or not?”

He crossed his arms and huffed like a child, nay, a twerp, as he disappeared off into the hall to search for more supplies in lieu of a response.

You stood in the room, unsure of what to do with yourself, when you heard the door open up again.

Instead of Damian’s short stature, it was Tim.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him. “Hey,” you said. Your hands fiddled anxiously behind your back as Tim's unreadable face scanned the room and you.

“So you guys are really just painting?” he picked up some of Damian’s work, something you would never tell your friend, seeing as you liked Tim and wanted him to remain alive.

“Duh.” After all those nasty rumors spread about you, suddenly, any proximity to a boy was considered promiscuous. You’d never even had your first kiss anyway, which was the most embarrassing part about the whole rumors ordeal. You glanced back at Tim to see him staring at you like he’d been on the walk here, “What?”

He chuckled, running a loose hand through his dark locks. He looked effortlessly, yet somehow understatedly, gorgeous. “You owe me for earlier down there, by the way.”

“Sure,” you said, “whatever you say, Tim.”

“See you around?” It comes out like a question.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you laughed at his small frown. “We’re locker buddies. Of course, I’ll see you, loser,” you quickly smacked your hand over your mouth. “Sorry, I was just joking!”

“You’re the nerd here,” he shot you a cheeky smile before moving towards the door. “See ya.”

You waved back at him as he left, then immediately felt around your cheeks for any sign of heat.

Damian reappeared moments after Tim left, plopping a pad of watercolor paper in front of you with an expectant stare. “Well?”

Damian really was funny. Whether he meant to be or if this was really just how he acted, you didn’t know yet, but you couldn’t help the snort that erupted unexpectedly. “Are you just going to stand behind me like a fucking voyeur?”

He blushed and tugged at his collar. “Of course not,” he said, referring to your last name—another quirk of his you were already getting used to.

It was almost endearing.

Almost.

He snatched a nearby easel and set it down next to yours, noticeably not behind it, you noted with amusement. Damian then grabbed the pad of paper he’d stuck in front of you and split the thick book in half with an ease that left you speechless. Literally. What do you say after someone does something mundane so savagely yet so casually?

“Uh.”

He glared at you as if to warn you to drop the whole thing, “You may have talent, but I don’t have all day.”

“Whatever,” you dismissed him, still not over him ripping the book.

This must be how he bantered. You realized that, while you may have noticed some of his personality, you definitely were nowhere close to understanding the true breadth of it. Yet, you added hopefully.

You both quietly fell into a companionable silence as you showed him certain tricks he would replicate on his half of the watercolor paper pad. You noted that the silence only lasted so long, as Damian’s aggressive style still wasn’t transferring to the watercolors.

“This is bullshit,” he muttered as he scrapped yet another piece of paper.

“Maybe it’s just not your style?” you tried, but the glare you were met with left no room for debate. “Okay, okay,” you moved beside him and put your hand over his to control the movement. His body wash or whatever cologne he was wearing smelled amazing, but damn, did the kid overdo it. “See how light I’m pressing?” he nodded as you did the movement again, releasing more of his intoxicating scent that you were forced to ignore. “You want to paint with the tip of the brush mostly and you can’t do that if it’s smushed against the paper,” he replicated your light movement with your hand still on top of his, creating a thin, delicate line. “Come look,” you stepped back to fully view his canvas and motioned for him to do the same.

“You’re right,” he inspected his previous work to the one you had just worked on with him. He said your name suddenly, causing you to turn towards him.

You hoped you weren’t blushing, but the close proximity, his scent and him saying your first name for once? It was a bit too much for you.

Before you could reply, a resounding bang crashed throughout the room, seeming to have come from somewhere downstairs. Damian remained perfectly still but seemed unsure of the comeuppance, which did nothing to comfort you.

“Damian?” you asked, unsure of what to do.

Then the yelling started.

You couldn’t hear much of it at first, but it quickly became a booming screech, then even louder to the point the two of you couldn’t ignore the ruckus any longer.

“Stay here,” was all he said. He got up swiftly to shut the door behind him, effectively leaving you to listen blindly to the crashes and bangs from below.

You easily could’ve listened to Damian's demands, but you didn’t.

As soon as he left the room, you waited only a moment before opening the door to follow after his retreating form. Once you reached the end of the wall, you crouched down to peer through the banister down into the entryway below.

You held back your gasp at the sight of a hulking Bruce Wayne, who was much larger in person than on TV and the papers, towering menacingly over yet another dark-haired kid.

You couldn’t see Damian, but you peered close enough to catch Tim and Dick attempting to intervene with the rampaging kid.

Where had Stephanie gone to? You searched around with wide eyes but found her nowhere. You couldn't lie that you wished she were here to witness this crazy shit go down with you.

Speaking of Damian.

“I told you to stay in the room,” he grumbled, suddenly appearing behind you to grab your hand.

You stumbled to fall into step with him as he pulled you back towards the direction of the art room but stopped just short and tugged you down a different staircase from the main one.

“Where did you even come from?” You hadn’t heard or seen him sneak up on you at all. He was like a fucking ninja. “Who is that?” That being the more important question to ask, you realized.

Tim was already waiting for the two of you halfway down the stairs while an older gentleman waited down at the base. Tim looked haunted, but it seemed like, at the very least, he was holding it together for you. Damian, to the untrained eye, seemed as unbothered as ever, but you picked up on the way his actions bordered on robotic more so than usual, meaning he was also putting on a calm facade for you.

You realized you wouldn't be getting any answers any time soon.

“Miss,” the older gentleman stated your last name as you came to the end of the stairs and found yourself in a huge kitchen that would be any chef's dream. “I will be the one escorting you home this evening.”

The guttural screaming and banging sounded close, so you nodded and swiftly followed behind. All the while, Tim and Damian remained protectively on either side of you.

Flanked and covered on all sides, you made your way out a back exit where you assumed a car would be waiting.

You don't know what made you do it, but you turned your head at the last minute to see the new raven-haired kid stomping directly across the hallway that led right to you.

Your eyes took him in, trailing helplessly over his larger form while your fight or flight kicked in.

“Another one?” he screeched, his seething green eyes locking onto your own with a fiery rage. “ANOTHER FUCKING REPLACEMENT, BRUCE?” you startled backward into Tim’s chest as your eyes refused to leave the active threat in front of you.

Bruce came into view, noting your presence briefly with a quick but sorry gaze. It was enough to make your stomach flip at the acknowledgment.

You were shaking, you realized, just as Dick yelled at him to get back.

He and Bruce had the kid held back by both of his arms as he attempted to come closer to you, but scar-face continued to struggle violently against their inhumanly strong grip.

“TOO MUCH TESTOSTERONE, SO YOU HAD TO GO ADOPT SOME FAT BITCH?” From this close, you noticed the angry scars cutting across the fleshiness of his boyish cheeks and his odd white tuft of hair. The scars bent and morphed with every exaggerated expression.

Damian snarled from behind you while Tim and Alfred both placed gentle, guiding hands on your shoulders to lead you outside and into a blacked-out sports car.

What even was that dude talking about? Replacement? Adopted?

After quick goodbyes to Tim and Damian, you were left alone in the back of a Rolls Royce, wondering what the fuck you’d just witnessed.

•

About a week after your first visit to Wayne Manor and only a few days into your second week at Gotham Academy, you were still finding a routine.

Every morning started off by seeing Tim (and sometimes Stephanie) by your locker. The three of you would chat for a bit about classes until Damian would stop by to walk you to your first class, only because the rumors still hadn’t quieted.

If anything, the gossip had only gotten worse after you'd started hanging around the Wayne family.

You were a grade ahead in English and had confided in Damian after a few days of pretending like you didn’t know where the classroom was and him insisting you did, that you were actually just anxious. He’d looked at you like you were dumb until you explained your dilemma of having to cross through the older kid hallways to get to the classroom.

He hadn’t needed you to elaborate further to understand that the kids were still making fun of you. Thus, he began to walk you to class every day.

It wasn’t like Damian’s presence stopped the taunting; it just made it less directly aimed at you, which worked just as well. Plus, Damian ended up being funny as hell, so just having his presence helped keep you calm through it all.

It was... sweet.

Another new routine was that you now had Damian to eat lunch with and Tim and Stephanie as well. After your first hangout, you started seeing more of them in the hallways and eventually at lunch. It turned out both had the same lunch period and, after discovering this fact, would try to sit at the lunch table with you guys most of the time unless they had projects and such to complete.

Long gone were your days of hiding out alone in the library.

Today had been much of the same.

You were at lunch with Damian and Tim (Stephanie had to stay over in chemistry to finish an assignment) when a familiar and not in a good way, green-eyed face plopped down. The force was enough to shake the entire table.

His very being demanded attention, you realized with a gulp as you took in his messed-up uniform collar and, even more pressing, the deep-set scars that ran across the majority of his face.

Your fearful glance bounced between an annoyed Damian and tense Tim while the kid who’d screamed at you appeared sheepish.

“What’s up?” he tried with a deep voice that sounded extremely different from the angry yells you'd heard during your first visit to the manor.

When no one responded, he scoffed and pulled out a packed lunch that matched Damian and Tim’s sophisticated own. He pushed around at it. You looked down at the pathetic leftover pizza you’d ordered two days prior with severe disdain. Definitely not as appetizing as their gourmet sandwiches and pastries.

As if sensing your envy, the kid from the manor pulled out a red Tupperware container and scooted it cautiously across the table toward you.

You eyed the container skeptically before squinting at him.

“I made you scones.” You didn’t bother responding once again, but, nonetheless, he continued. “I’m Jason.”

“Okay,” you drawled out, wishing he would just leave you alone.

He looked unsure of you now, eyes widened and searching Damian and Tim’s faces for the right thing to say, but neither offered any help, let alone return his anxious gaze.

Why did he care what you thought of him or whether or not you accepted his apology?

“You’re not fat, by the way,” he added hastily, realizing too late that it had sounded a lot better in his head than it did coming out.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from your lips, not having expected his forwardness. You cleared your throat after catching the incredulous looks from everyone else at the table, but Jason seemed pleased.

You rolled your eyes a bit, hesitantly accepting his peace offering, when your stomach growled, revealing just how disappointed with your lunch you were. You couldn’t deny that his scones looked fucking bomb and the piece of pizza you’d eaten left a lot to be desired.

You took out a chocolate chip scone and toasted it in his direction. “Nice to meet you, Jason,” you told him your name before biting into the heavenly pastry. The insane taste alone had you moaning. “Holy shit,” you opened your eyes to see everyone at the table bright red and refusing to make eye contact with you, that is, aside from Jason’s stark green ones, “these are awesome."

You weren’t lying, either.

You knew how to cook and bake and all (when you were able to get the ingredients, that is), but it never came out anything like this.

“I made them,” he smiled at you a bit hesitantly. You could imagine why after such a violent introduction- if it could even be called that and now here he was with a complete 180 gentle disposition and scones. “I could show you too?” It came out as more of a question.

“Careful, Todd,” Damian warned, “she’s my friend, not yours.”

You would later ask Jason for his scone recipe and curse him when you realized that, of course, he hadn’t given you the exact recipe and your scones came out tasting like shit.

All those wasted ingredients for nothing, the fucking asshole.

You were going to get that recipe.

•

The same week Jason started school, you returned to Wayne Manor for the second time. This time, without all the hostility, though it seemed like any time the Wayne siblings hung out, there was some sort of quarrel.

This time, it was over who kept dropping all the green shells.

Damian was convinced it was Stephanie, who was convinced it was Barbara, who was convinced it was Dick, who was convinced it was Tim, but it had been you. Jason, who refused to play and insisted on posting up against the game room entryway, knew it'd been you.

What were you supposed to do when they were apparent Mario Kart gods while you were more like a toddler chewing on a console?

Finally, after Stephanie, Barbara and Dick had each won twice in a row, Mario Kart was rage quit by Damian, who demanded the group play something else.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his petulance, “At least you came in second once.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to be last place,” he said your last name.

“Maybe not every time, though,” Tim teased you with a nudge from beside you on the couch you were both sitting on with Damian.

“Well, then. Let’s play something I’m good at.” You flipped through their virtual game library until you came across Injustice 2 and launched it. Everyone in the room boo’ed. “What?!” You asked incredulously. “You guys bought the game, not me!”

Damian came to your rescue, “I want to play."

“You gonna be Batman, little bird?” Stephanie teased him.

“Please, Brown,” Damian maneuvered his controller to click on player two just as you picked player one, “I actually want to win.”

You played as Catwoman, while Damian selected Robin.

“They should have some relevant dialogue when they appear too!” You wiggled excitedly in your seat in anticipation.

It'd been a while since you played the first game and you’d never had the money to buy the second game, so all the game content was all new to you.

The characters loaded in and true to what you said, they began to taunt each other. You tried to turn up the volume, but before you could, Damian clicked 'A' and skipped through the intro, leaving your mouth to drop at the audacity.

Stephanie and Barbara cackled at your offended face while Dick got up to try and smooth things over with a placating grin, "Woah, there."

“Fucking asshole!” you cut Dick off, dropping the remote as Robin began beating the shit out of Catwoman before you could get a proper hold on your controller.

“Fuck your dialogue,” Damian was hunched over with his hands rapidly pounding buttons while you attempted to catch up to his onslaught of attacks. Stephanie, Barbara and Tim were hooting and hollering at Catwoman's whip assault while Dick sat back down to politely cheer for Damian, who quickly shut it down. "You're distracting me, Grayson."

You end up kicking his ass, but barely. Still enough of a beating for him to throw the controller out of the room past Jason's looming body.

You laughed as he pushed into your shoulder, “So much for last place, huh?”

He stuck his tongue out and you don’t know why your first thought was to grab it, but you did.

You stared at him while he stared at you, tongue still between your pointer and thumb, neither of you (or anyone in the room) saying anything. You were equally surprised he hadn’t reclaimed his tongue by pushing you or whatever Damian’s aggressive ass would normally do.

Jason, somehow, is the one who ended up breaking the weird, no, awkward tension you’d created by clicking on rematch. This time, you noted, without skipping the dialogue.

You nodded appreciatively in his direction, but he just shook his head with a roll of his eyes, "Psycho."

You dropped Damian’s tongue immediately, flush with embarrassment you were desperately trying to quell into a cool nonchalance and joined the game.

Within a few seconds, you used Catwoman’s whip to knock Robin on his ass with ease. "That's rich," you shot him a pointed eyebrow that you knew he understood.

“Jeesh!” Stephanie exclaimed now on the edge of her seat as Robin teleported behind Catwoman, but you dodged his sword attack and retaliated with a headlock followed by a bodyslam. She ended up blocking Dick’s view, leaving him to shuffle across the room near Jason in order to see past everyone who’d collectively gotten up from their seats.

Jason, who was on the left side of the couch, didn’t seem too bothered by Dick’s presence, but you knew it was throwing him off a little. As soon as Dick entered Jason's personal bubble, he was no longer able to dodge your Super Move like he'd done countless times before.

In the end, Jason beat you with a wink and left the room, leaving you more confused than ever about your rocky relationship.

From screaming to scones to winks, all in a few days. You were getting severe whiplash from this family when you weren’t even sure why they all even wanted to keep hanging out with you, least of all why you kept coming back.

Maybe it was a bit dysfunctional, maybe you were all dysfunctional for that matter, but for the first time ever, you felt like you kind of belonged.

It was… nice.

A/N: hope ur enjoying so far!

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#my fic:ars #my fic: the art of rehabilitating snowbirds #reader x jason todd x roy harper #reader x jason todd #reader x roy harper #damian x reader #dc batman #slow burn #ages: you/Damian 14 freshman; Tim/Steph 15/16 Sophomores but Tim takes all Junior level classes; Jason/Roy 17; Dick/Barb 23 #Jason gets held back so he's a junior taking some Sophomore level classes

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