you look different — d.grayson x reader
pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader
synopsis: reader somehow fell into the fictional world of dc, specially bludheaven and seeks nightwing's help. only thing is that you think he seems to RECOGNISE your face somehow but he's not saying how or why. and he looks too miserable— more than the usual amount you've read.
authors note: this is a two(?) part series! i hope you guys like it. if you have any ideas do lmk. reqs are open
masterlist — next
earthquakes aren't supposed to take you to a different dimension. you were sure, do the next possible answer was that you were dreaming. but were you? because everything felt too real.
your head was still hurting a little from the bright light that shone during the earthquake— or what you thought was an earthquake. you have no idea what happened, or why it happened. all you know was that you fell unconscious when your room shook and you woke up with a terrible headache in the worst possible cities to ever not exist.
bludheaven.
unbelievable. one moment you were on your bed, next moment you were on the streets of bludheaven. you saw some shop that had the city's name on it. at first you thought it's some joke, but then who could set up a whole city to look like a fictional city you're familiar with? you're not dreaming, maybe you were reality shifting? is that even possible? you didn't really have time to ponder because it was slowly getting dark, you need to find a place to stay safe. obviously you can't go to a motel, you had no money. even if you did, would this place accept the money? too many questions but from what you've read about bludheaven you have to find a safe space.
you started walking on the streets where it the street lights were on to keep check if your surroundings. yoh must have walked for an hour, you had no idea where you were headed, but you knew that if you kept walking you'll find something—it was almost like a force of nature that guided you during your walk. and thank the force of nature because you did see something.
a man, his back towards you but he has sticks behind him. two escrima sticks. you immediately knew who he was, of course you knew it. you've read a lot of about this guy, and from what you've read, you know that he was your safe space and the one to get out of this mess. a part of you wanted to jump—not just because you found a way home but also because you're about to talk to the nightwing.
he was several feet away from you, you had to run to catch up to him. "nightwing!" you yelled, but he didn't stop his steps. you yelled again and again until you reached closer to him.
finally, he stopped and turned to face you, you who were bending down slightly, hands on your knees catching your breath from the running. "finally, you wal—" you didn't get the chance to finish what you were saying. nightwing's face scrunched up with anger? why is he angry?!
and why did he grab his escrima stick and pointed it at you.
"you." was all he said before trying to buzz you with the stick. you immediately ducked, trying to defend yourself but he was skilled. you won't be able to keep with him, you didn't keep up as his stick reached closer to you making you fall on your back.
"dude! not cool," you said from the ground. "i thought you were the good guy who helped random civilians, not try to hit them randomly?" you huffed slightly. those nightwing writers were so wrong about this guy.
"“random civilian? you?” he scoffed, stepping closer with his stick still pointing at you on the ground.
"yes, me. who else? its an empty street right now, isn't it?" your eyes looked around.
"this isn't funny. whoever you are, I'm not playing this game." nightwing said with fury, his face told a sad story, you couldn't point out what. maybe batman died? but why is he mad at you? what game does he think this is?
"sir, could you please put the stick away and let me explain. i need your help." your words rushed out, not wanting to get interrupted by him or his stick.
your words made him frown slightly, "help? you want my help? again, I'm not playing whatever this is."
"i wish I knew what this was— please, you have to listen to me. you're my only hope right now." you tell him honestly.
it was true. you somehow fell into a dimension where bludheaven and nightwing were real. you know no one here, if nightwing is here then that means others might be here, people who could send you back to your dimension. and nightwing knows these people, so he was your way back home. but only obstacle is that he is not friendly here.
"hope." he repeated as if that word meant nothing to him anymore. he put his stick away finally. "you have 5 minutes to explain why you look like that."
you frowned... what does that mean? "um, thank you?" you said. maybe you look different in this universe and hence that comment. "anyways," you tell him your name, he looked like he already knew it. "i somehow fell into your dimension. you see, i know you are nightwing, etc because in my world you are a fictional character I've read about, you're a comic book character. i don't know how I got here but i know that you know people who can help me get me back to my world. and in my world, the fictional nightwing is a good guy, he'd help me. so please—help me, dick."
when you said his name, his real name out his face flinched. "you know my name," his stick was facing you again.
"woah, no need for these!" you pointed at the stick with your eyes. "i just told you, ive read your comics. i also know you have a dog and other stuff." you said with a smile, hoping he'd act friendly.
"my dog died." he said blatantly.
"oh," you didn't expect that. "im sorry about that... uh."
he waved his stick. "how can I trust you saying the truth?" he asked.
"i honestly don't know. intuition? look at me, why would I waste my time trying to convince you I'm from a different dimension and have to get back?"
"many reasons. but if you were having any negative reasons for this... you wouldn't be dumb enough to look like that." he said, lowering his stick.
not that again. you chose to ignore it, you need his help. it doesn't matter what he thinks you look like. and why does that even matter?
"so you'll help me?" you asked with hope in your eyes, slowly getting yourself up, dusting your jeans and palms. he looked like he wanted to give you his hand but he didn't.
"no."
"no? you won't help me?!" you asked with frustration, scoffing through your nose. unbelievable.
"im not that guy anymore. i do basic patrolling at night because I can't sleep and having nothing to do. i can't help you, sorry." he said and started to walk away, you ran after him.
"wait! no, dick. wait, you don't understand. i know no one here, i having nothing. please, at least point me at the right direction for help— like batman or zatanna or anyone who could help me!" you grabbed his hand as you spoke to stop him from walking further away.
dick looked at where you were holding, once you noticed his eyes on your hands you removed it. "sorry, look. i get that you're not exactly like the dick grayson from my world that I've read about but I can tell there are some of him in you. are you seriously going to let me just be alone, i have no money, no identity in this world."
"you do have an identity, you have a name." he said.
you rolled your eyes. "i meant verfied one. i... please just help me, dick?"
he stared at you, his cold look softened a little. something shifted in him for a moment before he put up his shield.
"fine," he paused. "I'll help you. as in I'll get you to batman tomorrow. he can deal with you."
"thank you! that's more than enough!" you clapped your hands together.
he just stared at you again before speaking. "uh, you can stay with me tonight. tomorrow, first thing we're going to gotham. hopefully we'll never see eacother again."
"okay, deal." you gave him your hand but he didn't take it. just motioned you to follow him. "wait, we're walking to your apartment? do you not have a transport-wing?" you asked.
he glared at your complaint. your fingers made a zipping up motion at your lips and quietly followed him to his apartment. tried to follow him quietly at least.
_
his apartment was small and depressing. which isn't a surprise to you but everything was so bland... like he has no life. he asked you to not touch anything and offered you his bed and took the couch. but you were sure that he wasn't going to sleep. and neither could you. for most of the night, you talked his ear off. asking questions and answering them before he could—not that he was willing to answer. occasionally he'd glare at you but sometimes, rarely he'd soften up. you even made him smile a little! but he quickly retrieved it.
"was that a smile?" you asked. this version of dick grayson had definitely gone through extra hell. something extra terrible had happened to him. you don't know what but you can tell.
"go to sleep." he said and laid down on the couch. you shrugged and went to the bedroom to sleep as well.