Hello hello to all our BruDick friends! Today is the first day of posting for the Brudick Summer Exchange!
We have 5 NEW BRUDICK fan works today. Please remember to double check the warnings and tags before proceeding!
WORKS
Night Terrors [Art] for pixie_boots. [Gen, No Archive Warnings Apply]
Summary:
For the prompt:
I'd like for Bruce to be in the middle of spiraling and subconsciously seek Dick's comfort by going into his room and breaking down into his arms; Dick tries his best to soothe him but is slightly overwhelmed. I'd also like for this to be during Dick's Robin days.
A Calculated Risk [Fanfic] for epicmonkeytoes69 [Explicit, Creator Chose not to Use Archive Warnings]
Summary:
It had been almost two months since Bruce had last seen Dick, both of them busy in their respective cities, when a wide-scale threat has the Justice League calling for reinforcements. It wouldn't be accurate to say that Bruce was grateful to the mind-controlling aliens threatening civilians, but he wasn't ungrateful either.
In which Bruce pines, dreams, and takes a chance.
One Way Glass [Fanfic] for LostDiamondSoul [Explicit, Creator Chose not to Use Archive Warnings, Underage]
Summary:
Dick Grayson—husband, father, hero—is de-aged to his early days as Robin.
There are lots of different ways to look at the past. Sometimes, it's hard to know what really happened.
This Love Came Back to Me [Fanfic] for TheOakTreeGhost [Teen, Creator Chose not to Use Archive Warnings]
Summary:
“He’s back, Alfred…” Bruce nearly whispered as they passed by a park. Memories began to cycle through his mind like a film reel projected on an old movie screen. It was all sepia tones and haze, but the feelings surrounding them were as clear and warm as sunlight.
“Who’s back, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked, breaking the boy from his revery.
“Dick Grayson.” Bruce whispered like a prayer. “Dick Grayson is back.”
Burning For You [Fanfic] for LadyMerlin [Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply]
Summary:
Poison Ivy hits Batman and Nightwing with a new strain of toxin intent to burn them up from the inside. Bruce and Dick manage to fight it off with each other, but, now that they've crossed the line, will their relationship ever be as it was before?
throwing ideas your way in case you want them (NOTHING underage): 1- dick loves being held by bruce (bruce loves it, too; whispering sweet and filthy things to him depending on the mood); 2- phone s*x or s*xting/pics; 3- au where they're not heroes (lawyers, drs, bankers); 4- skinny dipping or another getaway; 5- mutual m**turbation; 6- dick surprising b with something really nice/meaningful.
yo are we allowed to have p()rn on this website again, because if so maybe i'll take a run at a few of these other ideas sometime too. but in the meantime, here's a piping hot #6 for you!
perfectly safe for work unless your work doesn't want you using tumblr during business hours. established relationship, no smut, lots of feels, light angst. tried to do my best by romani dick & jewish bruce and then fell down a rabbit hole of 20th century circus town history.
thank you for your prompts and please, folks, feel free to keep 'em coming!
These days, when mail addressed to Dick Grayson arrives at Wayne Manor, which hasn’t been his legal residence in like a decade, it’s generally an excuse for Bruce to have a little fun with it.
(“This relationship is very new, still,” he said the last time, sitting somberly across from Dick at the breakfast table with an envelope in his hand. “Things are delicate between us, Dick.”
“I understand that. We’ve talked about this before, Bruce. I know you want to take things slow.”
“I do. That’s why I’m concerned. It’s far too early to be telling everybody at -” as he looked down at the envelope with a solemnly furrowed brow - “Gotham City Bank Preferred Platinum Visa Rewards Card that we’re moving in together.”
“Very funny.”
“I know you’re preapproved for a special offer with 0% interest APR, but -”
“Oh, just give me the goddamn envelope and shut up.”)
But this time, both he and Alfred see the return address on the big cardboard box when it arrives, and they know whatever is inside, they can’t joke about this.
Gibsonton, Florida has been the winter home of circus and carnival performers since the early Depression. Its unique zoning laws allow residents to keep everything from monkeys to elephants to giant tents and trailers on their property, and in its glory days it was a safe, albeit colorful and bizarre, home for all kinds of people who might have been treated like freaks anywhere else. Pop Haly had been born there, back when the town was at its wildest, and had always spoken of it fondly, though in Dick’s time the circus traveled so far and wide that they didn’t really take whole winters off anymore the way they used to, so his memories of the place were more fragmented.
It would not take Batman - or even an ordinary detective - to figure out what’s in the box. Alfred gets there just as quickly as Bruce.
“Master Richard did mention plans for the circus to sell off some of the assets that were no longer in use, in order to reinvest them in the new permanent site,” the butler ventures. “I do not recall specifics, but I would imagine property -”
“And somebody going through it for sale found something that belonged to the Graysons.”
“Would you like to call him, sir, or shall I?”
Bruce shakes his head. “It’s Wednesday. He’ll be here at seven for dinner anyway. Leave it on his bed in his old room. He might want to be alone when he opens it. We don’t have any way of knowing what’s in that box, or how it will make him feel.”
He doesn’t get answers to either of those questions that night. Dick finds Bruce in the study and kisses him hello with an easy smile, but it falls off his face like a painting on a loose nail when he hears the word “Gibsonton.” He’s alone upstairs for so long that Alfred has to put the chicken pot pies back in the oven to keep warm, and when he comes back down to the dining room he’s uncharacteristically reserved and somber.
“What did he tell you?” Alfred asks Bruce quietly, as he helps the butler carry the dishes into the kitchen, leaving Dick staring wordlessly into his coffee and playing with a brownie he isn’t really eating.
“Nothing. I didn’t ask.”
“Not even to see if he was all right?”
“He’s not all right,” Bruce says simply. “It’s private, Alfred. If he wants to tell us, he will.”
But he doesn’t say anything over coffee and brownies, and he doesn’t say anything as he puts the box in the trunk of his car and drives home, and he doesn’t say anything for days and weeks afterward.
Bruce still doesn’t ask. But he hasn’t stopped wondering.
* * * * *
It’s nearly two months before the topic comes up again.
It’s a nice night, warm for October, the skies clear. Bruce is sitting alone with a cup of coffee on one of the benches near a corner of the grounds where the leaves are already turning. He still has a few hours before it’s time to leave for patrol, and it’s peaceful here. His parents liked this spot. It’s gotten easier, slowly but surely over the years since Dick came into his life, to live alongside their ghosts without feeling quite so . . . haunted. He can remember the nice moments without as much pain. When he was little, after the fall leaves were raked up into piles but before the landscapers hauled them away, Bruce was permitted to jump in them. He liked the crunching sound.
He hears the same sound behind him suddenly, an odd coincidence, and turns to see Dick approaching across the flagstones, scattered red and gold leaves crackling under his feet.
“You’re early,” he says, smiling, and moves aside to make room on the bench.
“Alfred said I’d find you here.”
Everything okay?”
“Yes. Yeah. I just had something -” Dick pauses, shaking his head a little like he’s gathering his thoughts, and takes a seat beside Bruce. They look up at the stars in silence for a few moments. Bruce doesn’t press him. Dick will talk when he’s ready. He always does.
“So you probably remember that box,” he says finally. He doesn’t look at Bruce as he speaks. “The one that came here for me.”
Bruce nods. “I remember.”
Another silence.
“You know, I kept waiting for you to ask me what was in it,” Dick says.
“It was private.”
“Like you’ve never seen me opening the mail and asked, ‘oh, a package! Who’s it from?’”
“I know exactly what Gibsonton is, Dick. Did you want me to ask, or were you afraid of me asking?”
“I don’t really know,” says Dick.
“Are you bringing it up because you want to tell me now?”
This silence lasts even longer than the others. Bruce doesn’t reach out to touch him, or turn to look at his face, but he lets his knee shift leftward just a centimeter or two, enough to bump lightly against Dick’s. I’m right here, the gesture says. Take your time.
“There was a warehouse on the property,” Dick finally says, eyes fixed on the trees in front of him. “All the other outbuildings were empty, easy enough to get them ready for the sale, but behind the stable there was a big old bunker of a thing I didn’t remember when the real estate agent sent me the photos. All she told me at the time was that the guy who was managing the property had found some personal effects in there and needed access to Pop Haly’s list of addresses of former employees. It was full of shelves with crates and bins on them, labeled, personal things people didn’t want to take with them on the road. I didn't think anything of it, I didn't assume there'd be anything in there for me, so I just sent over the copy I had in the paperwork he left me. But it must have been old -"
"Because the address he had for you was here."
"Gibsonton was home base, see," Dick goes on. "The place they always came back to. Sometimes when you were going out on a long-haul, you might leave a box there for the crew to watch over, if there were things you didn’t want to get lost or broken from months of traveling in a caravan.”
His voice has been impressively steady up until now, but when Bruce hears it begin to break a little, he steps in to let Dick breathe for a moment.
“So the property manager went through the warehouse to ready it for sale,” he guesses, “and found a box with your name on it. Things you didn’t go back for, because you stayed here in Gotham and didn’t go back to Gibsonton when the rest of the circus did.”
“Not my name,” says Dick, and he reaches out for Bruce’s hand.
Bruce exhales deeply. “Oh.”
They sit there like that for a long time. The moon’s almost full. A faint breeze shivers through the tree nearest them - a dogwood, which always erupts into riotous white and pink blossoms each spring - and a few red-gold leaves flutter downward.
“They left a bunch of things in Gibsonton that they didn’t have room for anymore in the caravan after they had me,” Dick says. “Things from their life before.”
“I see.”
“Things that were fragile, or delicate, or just things that there wasn’t a daily use for, so they had to choose between that and, you know, diapers and a stroller and all that. We never had a lot of room. And going from two people to three people in the same tiny space -”
“Of course.”
“They left a lot of things behind,” Dick says, and there’s something strange in his voice. “They left a lot of things behind, to make room for me.”
Bruce turns and looks at him, and squeezes his hand. “You don’t need me to be the one to tell you that nothing they left behind in a cardboard box in Gibsonton, Florida was more precious to them than you were,” he says, “but I’ll say it anyway, if it would help you to hear it out loud.”
Dick gives him a fleeting, weary smile before moving in closer, resting his head on Bruce’s shoulder. At the implicit signal that Dick wants comfort, that proximity and touch are now more important than the distance and silence he’d seemed to require when he first sat down, Bruce puts his arm around him, letting Dick curl up into the massive, sturdy wall of his chest. It seems to ease something in the younger man, who lets out a long, exhausted sigh.
“The biggest thing in it was a lamp," Dick says. "The base is a glass elephant. Mom told me about it once. She’d had it in her bedroom as a little girl. She’d dreamed of joining the circus because she wanted to make friends with an elephant. They’re matriarchal, did you know that?”
“I did.”
“Mom had dreams as a little kid of a trapeze act starring her and a bunch of girl elephants. They would be her best friends, she said. It always made me laugh when she told me about it. They left the lamp in Florida after she got pregnant; Dad was afraid a kid running around a space that small would knock it over, and he knew it was special to her. He always said someday, after they’d retired, they’d buy a little house somewhere, and -”
Dick’s voice breaks off. Bruce squeezes his shoulder.
“We always think we have more time,” Bruce says simply.
Dick nods. “Yeah.”
“It’s nice that you have it now.”
“That was the biggest thing in there,” Dick says. “There were some antique-looking books, and a really old dress - like a prom dress maybe. And some jewelry - nothing, you know, fancy, they weren’t rich, but things that were special. A few pieces that I think were maybe my grandmother’s. I remember them from photos. And a glass box full of shells. They must have collected them somewhere. Maybe on vacations, or maybe when the circus was traveling and hit seaside towns. Dad always liked to go to the beach on days off if we could.”
He sits up, pulling away from Bruce a bit, and reaches into his pocket to pull something out of it - something small enough to fit inside his closed fist, which he doesn’t open right away.
“And then there was . . . there was something else.”
Bruce turns and looks at him. Dick’s eyes are thoughtful, and warm, and a little sad.
“I think she forgot it was in her jewelry box,” he says, looking down at his hand, still clenched tight around something Bruce can’t see. “She talked about it a lot, actually. She always believed she’d lost it somewhere. She wasn’t a terribly superstitious person, it wasn’t that, not really, but it was a habit. And it was special to her. She’d gotten it from her mother.” He opens his palm and looks down into it, but Bruce still can’t quite see what he’s holding. “And the first thing I thought when I opened the box . . .” He shakes his head suddenly, looking up at Bruce with his eyes suspiciously bright. “I’m not explaining this very well,” he says apologetically.
“Take as much time as you need,” says Bruce.
Dick opens his palm all the way, and holds it out for Bruce to see. It’s a tiny gold oval, tarnished and faded. It looks very, very old. Bruce isn’t Christian, but he’s seen enough holy medals to know one when he’s looking right at it. And despite the fact that whatever graven image the medal once held is impossible to make out - probably long since worn down by decades' worth of fingers rubbing it for luck - he knows enough about Mary Grayson to make an educated guess.
“Saint Sarah?” he guesses. “Patron saint of the Romani.” Dick nods. “This was your grandmother’s?”
“At least,” says Dick. “Maybe older. Mom didn’t really know. She said that her mother gave it to her as a child, for protection, and told her that nothing bad could ever happen to her as long as she had it with her.” He closes his eyes. “She didn’t know it was in the jewelry box, she didn’t know it was in Gibsonton,” he says dully. “She thought she’d lost it. Used to joke about how that meant she was unlucky now. It was funny, when I was little. Every time she got stung by a bee or something went wrong at rehearsal or she was the only one in the whole circus who caught whatever cold was going around, she and Dad would laugh about it. ‘If only you’d had your Saint Sarah medal, this would never have happened.’” One bright tear wavers for a moment on his thick black lashes before falling. Bruce watches its slow progress over the rise of Dick’s cheekbone and down his jaw, wanting to kiss it away but uncertain whether that’s pushing the moment too far. “The medal was in the jewelry box all those years,” he whispers, “and they only left the jewelry box in Gibsonton because they had me.”
Bruce is a pretty good detective, true, but he also knows Dick Grayson better than anyone else in the world, and Dick doesn’t need to say it out loud for Bruce to know exactly what fear is haunting him.
“Your parents’ death was not your fault,” he says quietly, moving closer and leaning forward just enough to rest his forehead against Dick’s. “Even if your grandmother’s belief was provable, Dick, even if the medal truly was some kind of talisman invoking the protection of a patron saint - well, I know very little about saints, but I have a hard time imagining any of them granting or withholding their favor as capriciously as that. Your mother didn’t discard it, after all. She didn’t give up on Saint Sarah because the medal was lost. Perhaps she had her own kind of private rituals or devotions that she maintained in her own way.” He takes Dick’s empty hand and squeezes it. “Or perhaps she had less need of a talisman in her life to make her feel like the luckiest woman in the world,” he murmurs, “once her child was born and she realized how blessed she really was. Maybe she allowed herself to forget it because she didn’t need it anymore, the way she had when she was a child. Maybe it was all right for her to let it go. Mary Grayson always seemed to me like a woman who made her own luck. And her life was more than the worst thing that ever happened to her. She would be happy that her things have finally come home to you, Dick, but she would never, ever want you to blame yourself for being the reason that she’s gone.”
Dick sinks heavily against Bruce’s chest, not fully crying yet but not able to speak either. Bruce can feel the emotions pressing him down with a palpable weight. He’s so preoccupied with listening to Dick’s breathing to make sure it’s steady and he isn’t heading towards an anxiety attack, that at first he doesn’t notice the feeling of something small and warm and hard being pressed into the palm of his hand.
He looks up at Dick, who closes Bruce’s fist around the medal and lays his own hand over it before lifting his head to meet Bruce’s eyes.
“I know you don’t believe in it,” he says. “I don’t even know if I believe in it. But I need you to take it. I need you to have this, Bruce. Keep it with you, and don’t let it go. I’ll sleep better if you do.”
“Dick -”
"I lost you once," Dick says roughly. "I'm not going to lose you again."
Bruce closes his eyes. He doesn't know what to say.
“If anything ever happened to you, and I wasn’t there,” Dick tries to say, but he can’t quite get the words out.
“Dick,” Bruce says softly. “I’m honored to hold a piece of your family’s history. I’m honored to have this. It’s priceless to me, to have something in my life that belonged to your parents. I don’t want you to think that I don’t . . .” He swallows hard. “That I don’t know what this means.”
That your family is my family. That my family is your family. That if they were alive today, Mary Grayson would be my mother-in-law one day and Martha Wayne would be yours. That it would matter to you, that much, what they thought of me, and what I thought of them.
“So yes,” Bruce says. “I’ll keep this. I’ll keep it forever. I’ll treasure it. But I don’t need a talisman to protect me and keep me safe, Dick. I already have you. And you’re all I need.”
Here's a preview of my piece for the NSFW @batfam-problematic zine! You can pre-order a copy now! It's my first time to contribute to a zine, so I'm really excited for everyone to see it!!
So much drama, what could be going on...? 🤔😏
If you like BruDick, Young Justice, relationship reveals, accidental voyeurism, and healthy doses of identity porn, then you are going to enjoy my fic. And if that isn't up your alley, there are tons of other amazing writers' and artists' works featured, so there is surely problematic content to satisfy everyone. Oh yeah, and there is some pretty cool merch too. ;)
Preorders end April 14, so don't wait to get your copy!
Have you read the fanworks we released from Day 1 already? No worries, we have you covered! Hello to day 2!
Please remember to double check the warnings and tags before proceeding!
WORKS
not one of us know how to love the world [Art] for thegrayson [Gen, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings]
Summary:
Dick and Bruce are soulmates. It takes them twenty years to figure out what to do about that.
I'll be Your Candlelight (You've Always been Mine) [Fanfic] for FleetSparrow [Teen, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings]
Summary:
“Nightwing.”
To say Batman turned his full attention to the Nightwing would not be a fully accurate statement, for it implied that there was ever a time when Batman was not entirely too aware of Nightwing’s presence. Still, he made a show of deliberately turning before addressing the other man. The name fell quietly from his lips, though Batman knew he needed not to worry about them being overheard. The conversation he hoped to have, no matter how lacking in words, was one suited only for hushed voices.
Nightwing muted his own intercoms. His lack of a smile was a small mercy, a demonstration that Nightwing was at least partially willing to be honest with Batman.
“We’re good, Batman.”
“Nightwing.”
“I mean it. I haven’t changed my mind. I want to do this.”
OR
When an important mission seems to prove Dick's worst fears to be correct, it is up to Bruce to keep him from drowning in the darkness by being his candlelight.
Fuck Batman! [Fanfic] for Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox [Explicit, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con]
Summary:
Dick finds Bruce at his door after having nearly lost it all. Little does he know that Bruce has decided he'll do just about anything he can not to lose the last person in his life alive.
Day for You [Fanfic] for [Mysterious_Aud_Lou] [Gen, No Archive Warnings Apply]
Summary:
A "Take your kid to work" day. For years, it wasn't something anyone in Wayne Manor talked about.
This year, Dick decided to ask.
If I fall, will you (too)? for cadkitten [Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply]
Summary:
Dick and Bruce go undercover on an "engagement-moon" at a gay resort to take down a hate group. Damian is unimpressed.
Now that gifts have been revealed, we come with more treats! Please remember to leave a comment and/or kudos to show appreciation to the contributors!
WORKS
Castles Crumbling [fanfic] for pixie_boots [Teen, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings]
Summary:
After a drug bust goes badly, ending with an injured Robin, Bruce has the horrifying realization that he can't save everyone. And maybe, one day, he won't be able to save Dick Grayson. But perhaps it's been Dick Grayson who has been saving him all along.
Wayne Family Adventures: the secret episode [fanfic] for rurihiwatari [Teen, No Archive Warnings Apply]
Summary:
Prompt: How will the Batfamily take discovering that their dad and big brother/mother have been in a secret relationship for years
To Court A Grayson [fanfic] for cr0nu5 [Teen, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings]
Summary:
Damian Wayne has always gotten what he wants, and what he wants is his father to realize that Bruce will find no better romantic partner than Damian's beloved Grayson. So, armed with a briefcase and a carefully planned powerpoint presentation, Damian takes on the challenge of convincing his father that it's time to throw all other romantic entanglments aside, and begin to court Grayson properly.
a little annihilation [fanfic] for LadyMerlin [Explicit, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings]
Summary:
Dick knew something was wrong when he went to check on Bruce, but he’d expected it to be some kind of physical injury—a stab wound, maybe, or a broken bone.
In reality, Bruce had gotten himself dosed with a variant of sex pollen that could kill him if left alone. Dick is the only one around who can save him—and he’ll do it, whether Bruce wants him to or not.
Hey Robin! Check the Batcomputer! We have MORE FANWORKS!
Please remember to double check the warnings and tags before proceeding! And show the authors and artists love by giving KUDOS and COMMENTS!
WORKS
Pretty Wifey [Art] for Strawberry_boy201 [Teen, Underage]
Summary:
BruDick summer exchange 2023 gift
Mirage [Fanfic] for CaptainLordAuditor [Explicit, Rape/Non-Con, Underage]
Summary:
Bruce had been firm about not giving in to his desire until Dick was fully an adult. Dick had reluctantly accepted his point of view. When Bruce walks into his room at the Titan Tower with the clear intent to have sex, Dick is too thrilled to be suspicious…until it’s too late.
The Mirage Incident, but Bru/Dick.*
Set My Life On Fire [Fanfic] for shield_of_selene [Explicit, Rape, Non-Con]
Summary:
When the circus stays in a village targeted by Bruce Wayne, the warlord feared throughout the nation for his infamous conquests, Dick gains his attention and gets caught. He’ll have to come to terms with his existence as the little bird in the Bat’s grasp, as the Omega the warlord sees as his greatest treasure.
Covet [Fanfic] for hlw_shell_corporation [Mature, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings]
Summary:
Dick Grayson is an extension of Bruce Wayne. If there’s no Bruce Wayne, there’s no Dick Grayson. They struggle to exist without each other.
The entire world wonders if they have ever been separate people.
Inside Man [Fanfic] for Averia [Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply]
Summary:
After Jason moves out for college Bruce needs someone to keep him informed of all of Jason's comings and goings. Everything from his grade point average to his diet to his social calendar. His eldest doesn't call enough, but Bruce has someone to make up the deficit. Dick and Bruce have no secrets between them
‘morning mr wayne! me n jay went to the ym and hes doing great’
There's still time to sign up for the BRUDICK SUMMER EXCHANGE!!!!
Sign ups will promptly close on Thursday, May 11, 9:59PM PDT.
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