#dick robin

Sir that's his emotional support orphan, leave him alone.

Superman standing in front of a crowd answering questions and just having a good time in general

When suddenly out of nowhere Batman shows up behind Clark, pulls out a sleeping Dick!Robin out of his cape and puts him in Clarks arms (he agreed to babysit), then he just vanishes and Clark resumes answering question like nothing happened

And the civilians from Metropolis just stand there like, who the fuck was that? Who's that kid? Was that like, Supermans wife? That kid does look a lot like both the wierd cryptid and Supes

plot! this comes right from this request. soo as a lover of a slow burn dynamic i chose reader to be with the league of shadows, this is set in season 1.5 of young justice so that dick is still robin but he's older now. during a stealth mission something goes sideways really fast, the league of shadows wasn't supposed to be there, and neither were you. fem reader implied!

a/n: thanks for the request honey!! i haven't watched season one in a while so sorry if there are some mistakes. hope you enjoy!! actually i have other scenes in mind so i'm probably gonna write a part 2! i miss season one young justice and robin sooooooooooo much

The Gotham docks were wrapped in fog, every breath of the harbor air heavy with salt and rust. Shipping containers rose like steel towers in the gloom, stacked haphazardly in rows that formed a maze. Robin crouched high above on a crane, his domino mask adjusting between heat and motion detection.

“Four signatures” he muttered under his breath, watching red figures flicker across his HUD. Their movements were silent, calculated: no clunky boots, no chatter. Shadows. “We’ve got company.”

Aqualad’s calm voice answered through the comm, barely a whisper against the static. “Confirmed. I'll approach from the east.”

“Please tell me it’s not Klarion,” Wally groaned from somewhere below. “Or clowns. Or demon clowns.”

“Worse” Robin said, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. “No glitter”

The Team fanned out. Artemis knocked an arrow, her shoulders tense. M’gann floated silently above the fog, scanning ahead. Superboy clenched his fists.

And then it started, fast and brutal.

A flash of silver sliced the air.

Artemis barely ducked before Cheshire landed on her, flipping the archer onto the asphalt as though she weighed nothing. The quiet dockyard erupted into chaos.

“Contact!” Aqualad’s order cut through the comm. “League of Shadows!”

“Knew it!” Wally shouted, already dodging a blade aimed at his ribs. “Why is it always ninjas?!”

From above, Robin spotted another figure moving with impossible grace across a container roof. He dropped silently behind them, birdarangs at the ready. He expected a grunt—another faceless Shadow.

But when the figure turned, it wasn’t a grunt.

It was a girl.

She was his age—maybe a little older—tall and lean, dressed in matte black leather that clung like a second skin. Her hair was pulled back into a tight tail. No mask. Just kohl-lined eyes that locked onto his. Eyes without hesitation. Without warmth.

Robin tilted his head, cocky as ever. “Don’t suppose you’re here for the dock tour?”

You didn’t answer. You just moved.

Fast. Precise. Unforgiving.

The first kick caught his ribs before he even processed it. He blocked the follow-up elbow, twisting his body to absorb the impact, but you were already there, slipping through his guard like smoke. No wasted motion. No sound.

He liked a challenge.

The fight was chaos wrapped in elegance—two trained combatants measuring, countering, adapting in seconds. He swept low at your legs; you backflipped clean over, palm-striking his shoulder hard enough to rattle his bones.

Robin grunted, flipping into a crouch. “Okay… not a rookie.”

You didn’t stop. You grabbed his wrist mid-strike, twisting sharply and forcing him off balance. He retaliated with a kick to your thigh, but you rolled with it, flipped over him in one fluid arc, and scissored your leg around his neck, using the momentum to slam him to the ground.

Somewhere across the yard, Wally’s horrified voice carried. “Is Robin—guys, is Robin actually losing right now?!”

Robin coughed, flipping himself backward to regain footing, blood on his lip. His grin flickered, sharper this time.

“You’re good.” He twirled an escrima stick. “But I’m better.”

He lunged low, feinted left. You read it instantly. You were learning each other’s rhythm, your strikes brutal and efficient, no theatrics. You finally landed a clean kick to his jaw, snapping his head sideways.

Robin stumbled, wiped blood from his mouth, and laughed under his breath. “You hit like you’ve got something to prove.”

Still no answer. Just those eyes.

He steadied, voice quieter now. “…Who are you?”

Your first and only words slipped out, calm and flat. “Not yet, Boy Wonder"

And then you were gone—vanished into the fog as an explosion rattled the dockyard.

By the time the smoke cleared, the Shadows had disappeared with their prize.

The Team regrouped, bruised and breathless.

“Okay,” Wally said, dragging a hand down his face, “we just got wrecked.”

“They were prepared,” Aqualad said, grim. “Too precise for coincidence.”

Artemis rubbed her shoulder. “That Cheshire freak had backup. Did anyone else catch the number of that truck?”

Robin stood apart, eyes fixed on the smoke. “Not a truck.”

The others turned to him.

“She wasn’t like the others,” he muttered. “No theatrics. No killing blow. Just… calculated.”

M’gann tilted her head, concerned. “That’s… good, right?”

Robin didn’t answer. He was still staring into the fog, searching for your silhouette.

A few days after the Gotham docks mission, mount justice’s systems are full of Shadow data, but Batman, Red Tornado, and the team still can’t identify the silent fighter Robin clashed with. The files are blank where your name should be, you must've been someone new, but for now you were just a shadow.

The mission was supposed to be surveillance. Instead, they walked straight into another League of Shadows operation. Chaos erupted. Blades against fists, smoke bombs in the dark.

“Seriously? Again?! They’re like roaches in leather!” Wally said while dodging blades thrown at him.

"Maintain formation!" Aqualad ordered his team but it was too late, Robin was down.

Now he sat in a rusted holding room, wrists shackled behind a pipe. His lip was split, breath steady but strained.

He muttered to himself, “Note to self: dodging isn’t flying. Don’t let Wally talk you into split-jumping off a truck again.”

The click of boots pulled him alert. He tensed.

You entered.

The same girl.

This time your hair was loose, shadowing your face. No mask. Just calm eyes, unreadable.

Robin grinned despite himself. “Well. I was starting to wonder if you were real, or just my brain’s idea of a fun hallucination.”

You didn’t reply.

“Back to finish the job, or just here to watch me die of boredom?” He asked tilting his head.

You crossed the room with silent, measured steps, stopping a few feet away.

His grin softened. “…You don’t talk much.”

“Why would I?” Your voice was quiet, smooth, detached, like each word was rationed.

“Politeness?” Robin tilted his head. “Friendly hostage banter?”

Still nothing.

He leaned forward slightly, curiosity sparking. “Last time we met, you broke my lip and disappeared. Very ‘murderous ballerina.’ You got a name?”

At first, just silence. Then—your lips twitched, almost a smirk. “Why do you want it?”

“Can’t exactly put ‘mysterious shadow girl’ in the mission report,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Doesn’t look professional.”

A long pause. Finally, softly you said your name

Robin repeated it under his breath.

The word sat heavy on his tongue, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

He leaned back against the pipe, studying you. “You gonna tell me why I’m still alive?”

“No.”

You turned, walking for the door.

“You didn’t kill me last time,” he called after you. “Didn’t kill me this time. That’s not League protocol.”

“Maybe I’m not very good at following orders,” you said, never turning around.

The door shut behind you.

Robin sighed, letting his head fall back. “Well. That was informative.”

A sudden thwip cut the silence. A blade embedded itself into the wall, inches from his hand. The chain on his cuffs snapped clean.

Robin blinked, pulling his wrists free. It was one of her knives.

“…Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing his wrists. “Definitely not League standard.”

The Team gathered around the holo-table. Robin stood with his arms crossed, mask hiding his expression.

Batman’s voice came cold and low over the monitor. “You escaped.”

“Yeah,” Robin answered. “Eventually.”

“Who freed you?”

Robin hesitated. Just a fraction of a second. “…Did it myself.”

Aqualad’s eyes narrowed. “Robin. We need accurate intelligence.”

Robin shifted. “There was… a Shadow operative. Same one from the docks. The girl.”

Artemis frowned. “The quiet one? With the killer moves and the creepy staring?”

“She totally kicked your butt,” Wally added. “No shame, bro.”

“She got lucky,” Robin shot back, smirking. “Once.”

M’gann leaned in. “Did she… say anything?”

Robin’s gaze flicked briefly to the table, where a knife sat gleaming under the light. He hadn’t turned it in. Not yet.

“She said her name,” he admitted quietly.

The others waited.

Then he said it.

No recognition. No records. Not a single file.

“She is not in the database" Aqualad said after checking.

“Of course she’s not,” Artemis muttered. “The League doesn’t exactly hand out yearbooks.”

“Still,” Wally said, uneasily. “She let you go. What kind of Shadow does that?”

“Exactly,” Robin murmured.

Batman’s voice cut through the room. “Monitor her. If she appears again, do not engage alone. We don’t know her allegiance.”

Robin’s eyes stayed on the knife. His voice dropped so low it was almost to himself. “Maybe she doesn’t either.”

The next mission Batman assigned them was supposed to be an easy handling one: retrieve high-tech prototype stolen by Intergang operatives, intelligence traced back to League sources, in an abandoned underground power facility in Switzerland. The team’s goal is to get the device before it disappears into the black market.

Unbeknownst to them, the League of Shadows wants it too, and they're already there.

Snow swirled over jagged ruins, glittering faintly under a pale moon. The old facility hunched in the mountainside like a corpse of rusted steel and broken concrete. Wind howled through shattered windows, scattering flakes across the ground.

The Team crouched behind an outcrop of rock, eyes fixed on the half-buried structure. Robin adjusted his goggles, lenses flashing faint green as they scanned heat signatures. His cape shifted in the wind, snowflakes clinging to the black fabric.

Kaldur’s voice was calm over the comms. “Kid, secure the perimeter. Miss Martian, scan the upper levels. Superboy, Artemis—come with me. Robin, take the underground. That is where they will hide the prototype.”

“Always sending me to the creepy basements,” Robin muttered with a grin as he stood. “I feel so loved"

He didn’t wait for a reply. With a flick of his cape, he slipped into the shadows of a cracked shaft, dropping silently out of sight.

Darkness pressed down like a weight. Rusted platforms groaned beneath his boots. Old wires dangled like spiderwebs, dripping water onto the concrete. The air smelled of mildew and ozone, as if the place still remembered what electricity used to feel like.

Robin’s footsteps were soundless as he moved deeper. His voice murmured low into his comms.

“Visuals show two hostiles… wait—scratch that. Six. Looks like Shadows are playing scavenger too.”

Wally’s voice crackled back, half a whisper, half a whine. “Oh great. Can’t we just have one bad guy for once?”

Robin’s grin sharpened. He shifted along the catwalk, scanning the floor below. And then he froze.

Because across the fractured generator hall, in the eerie blue light of flickering panels, she stood.

You

Your black leather clung to your frame, hair pulled tight, eyes lifted. You moved like silence given form, striking down a guard with clean precision. And then your gaze flicked up, meeting his.

Robin felt his pulse jump. You stopped. Just a heartbeat. Then moved again.

His grin spread slowly. “There you are” he whispered.

You collided mid-motion, bodies spinning like dancers who both knew the steps—but this wasn’t a stage. This was instinct. Blades, fists, sticks. Strike, block, counter.

Robin swung his staff down toward your ribs. You caught it with both hands, twisted, and kicked off his chest, sending him staggering back a step.

“Still crashing parties that aren’t yours?” Robin taunted, recovering with a spin.

“Funny,” You said coolly, slashing upward with your blade. “I was about to say the same.”

He ducked, hair brushing steel. “You always show up when I least want you.”

Your boot swept at his legs, sharp and fast. “Trust me. The feeling is mutual.”

They broke apart for a beat, circling. Your chest rose and fell steady. His grin was sharp but his eyes were studying, calculating.

You darted first. Knife flashing. He twisted aside, but the blade skimmed his shoulder, slicing through fabric. He winced.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Definitely not flirting.”

You didn’t answer—just pressed forward.

Chaos reigned. Aqualad drove his water-bearers through Intergang brutes, holding the line as Artemis loosed arrows in quick succession.

M’gann hovered above, her voice tight. “Robin’s below! There’s a lot of movement—he’s not alone!”

Robin flipped a flash disk across the floor. It burst, filling the hall with choking smoke. Shadows swirled. For a heartbeat, you were gone.

Then—

BOOM.

One of the unstable generators erupted, metal screaming as sparks showered the chamber. The ground shuddered. Cracks split the floor.

Robin shouted, “Move!”

Too late. The floor gave way.

Concrete splintered. Both of you plummeted.

Robin groaned first, rolling to his side with a wince. His suit was torn at the shoulder, dirt streaked across his mask. “Ugh—note to sel,,” he muttered, pressing a gloved hand to his ribs, “next time, dodge before the blast.”

He turned his head, blinking through the settling dust. Someone else stirred. Leather creaked.

You pushed yourself up from the cracked ground, your hair matted with dirt, black leather scratched but intact. Your eyes locked onto him instantly—sharp, unreadable. Your lips curled slightly, not quite a smirk.

“Still alive, Boy Wonder?”

“Only just,” he grunted, sitting up straighter, cocking his head. “Thanks for the concern. Thought you Shadows were all about finishing the job.”

“I was,” she said dryly, stretching out a sore shoulder. “But now we’re both stuck. So… great plan.”

“Wasn’t my bomb,” Robin shot back, dusting off his glove. “Pretty sure that was your side’s idea of an exit strategy.”

You rolled your eyes and stood slowly, testing your balance. “Please. If it was my plan, we’d be gone. And you’d still be tied to a chair.”

“…Kinky,” Robin muttered under his breath.

You shot him a look.

He grinned. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

Robin’s eyes flicked to her. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer.

“Cool. Love the silent treatment,” he added, adjusting his arm with a wince. Probably dislocated. “Ten out of ten for dramatic tension.”

“I didn’t ask for commentary” you said sharply, eyes scanning the perimeter. Your voice was hoarse but cold as ever. The water was now creeping over your ankles.

Robin chuckled. “Didn’t ask, huh? Maybe I should write a handbook. Surviving Cave-Ins with a Shadow Girl Who Might Kill You.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “You talk too much.”

“Occupational hazard.”

A beat of silence. Then a low groan echoed through the space — the ceiling above them shifted. A chunk of rock fell with a crack and splashed nearby. Robin flinched. You didn’t.

“How bad’s your arm?” you asked finally, still not looking at him.

Robin blinked. “…Wow. That almost sounded like concern.”

“It’s not.”

“Sure.”

You finally turned. The light above them was dim, coming from some cracked emergency panel, but your eyes locked on his arm.

“It’s dislocated.”

“Yup.”

You took two steps forward, squatted beside him, and without hesitation, grabbed his wrist.

“Whoa—wait—!”

CRACK.

“AH—! Jeez—!” Robin swore under his breath, gripping his shoulder. “Could’ve warned me!”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“I looked at it.”

“That’s not a warning!”

Your gaze flicked to the rising water. “Get up.”

Robin grumbled but complied, pushing to his feet. His cape clung to his back, heavy with water. You moved first, wading toward what remained of a tunnel.

“No offense,” he said, limping behind you, “but you Shadows have terrible timing. Every time we cross paths, there’s some explosion, a cave-in, or an ambush.”

“Then stop getting in the way.”

“See, now I know you’re not over our last fight. Is this grudge thing going to be a recurring theme?”

You gave him a deadpan stare. “Yes.”

“Cool. Just checking.”

Robin leaned against a jagged wall, his arm now bound tightly in his cape like a sling.

“You know, for someone who kicked my butt two weeks ago and vanished into smoke, you’re not as scary up close.”

“Good,” you muttered. “I’m not here to scare you.”

He tilted his head. “Really? ‘Cause you’re doing great at it.”

You didn’t answer. The water was almost to your knees now.

Robin’s expression sobered slightly. “Hey… for real. Why’d you cut me loose last time?”

You stiffened. The question hung there, unanswered.

“You don’t have to tell me. I mean, mysterious ninja girl letting the hero live? Classic.”

Your gaze lowered. “I don’t kill unless ordered.”

“And they ordered you to kill me?”

A pause.

Then, softly: “No.”

Robin’s brow furrowed.

“Then why didn’t you bring me back?”

You didn’t reply.

The silence stretched.

Suddenly, a deep rumble echoed around them. Then a sharp crack overhead. The ceiling gave way — not all of it, but enough for a surge of water to come crashing in from the side. Robin lunged, pulling you backward as the current hit them both hard.

You both slammed against the wall, soaked and groaning. Robin coughed.

“Okay—this just became a really bad day.”

You, drenched, shoved wet hair from your face, glaring at him.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

He raised his hands. “Right. Duly noted.”

Robin’s grin faded. His eyes sharpened. “So you're what—freelance assassin now?”

Your gaze stayed on the cracked wall. “I’m nothing.”

Robin tilted his head, voice softer. “That’s not true.”

You snapped her eyes to him, glare sharp.

He shrugged, smirking faintly through the pain. “You’re extremely annoying. That counts as something.”

“If I had a knife, I’d stab you right now.”

“You did stab me,” he shot back. “Shoulder. Like, fifteen minutes ago.”

“Should’ve aimed higher.”

Robin laughed under his breath. The sound echoed oddly in the cavern.

The Team regrouped around the holo-table.

“We’ve lost Robin’s signal,” Aqualad said evenly, though his eyes betrayed worry.

“What do you mean lost?” Wally snapped, pacing. “Like, ‘out of range’ lost, or ‘buried alive with some ninja girl’ lost?”

M’gann gasped softly. “He was fighting one of the Shadows when the explosion happened—”

“We don’t know what happened,” Kaldur corrected firmly. “But we must assume he is alive. And we must locate him.”

Artemis folded her arms tightly. “If he’s with them, we’ll need backup.”

Conner’s fists clenched. “Then let’s stop talking and find him.”

Above, the Team triangulated Robin’s broken tracker. “They’re underground,” M’gann said, eyes glowing. “I can feel him.”

“Then we move,” Kaldur ordered.

At the same time, Sportsmaster and his Shadows advanced from the opposite side. One operative, the tall man with burning eyes, moved with sharp urgency.

Light cut through the cavern as debris shifted. M’gann’s voice echoed. “Robin!”

From the other tunnel, Shadows poured in—led by Sportsmaster, and the tall operative who went straight for you.

He gripped your arm sharply. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine” you said, pulling back.

His eyes flicked to Robin, hostility sharp. “You let him touch you?”

Your jaw tightened. “I wasn’t letting him.”

Robin smirked faintly, bruised but standing. “Relax, Shadow-boy. She hates me just as much as you do.”

Aqualad’s voice cut firm. “Robin. Report.”

Robin wiped blood from his cheek, standing straighter. “Underground dungeon, rapid flooding, hostile company. Pretty typical day.”

Wally zipped in, grinning in relief. “You look like a wet bat.”

Robin ignored him. His eyes flicked to you.

You met his gaze. Not a glare. Not soft either. Something in between.

“You’ll see me again” you said quietly.

Robin’s grin widened faintly. “Count on it.”

And like smoke, you were gone again.

The bio-ship hummed as it cut through the rain-heavy skies, sleek and silent despite the storm thrashing outside. Water streamed down the organic windows, blurring the city lights below. The only sound inside was the low thrum of the engines—and the unspoken tension thickening the air.

Every set of eyes was on Robin.

He sat near the rear, shoulders hunched against the cold paneling, cape heavy and sodden against the floor. Mud streaked across his mask, plastered his dark hair to his forehead. A deep gash marked the sharp line of his jaw, and his right arm hung stiff at his side, the shoulder wrenched out of place. He was bruised, dripping, clearly exhausted, but his arms were crossed like a shield, his chin tilted in defiance.

No one dared to speak at first. M’gann kept her eyes forward, both hands steady on the controls, guiding them home. Superboy lingered at the back of the ship, arms folded, silent as stone. Kaldur had taken a calm, patient seat across from Robin, waiting for him to begin. Artemis leaned forward in her chair, restless, chewing back the question burning on her tongue.

It was Wally, of course, who finally broke the silence.

“So, uh… mind telling us how exactly you ended up trapped underground with one of the League of Shadows’ top agents?”

Robin let out a short exhale—half a laugh, half annoyance. “Well, we fell.”

Wally blinked at him. “No. No-no. That’s not an answer. That’s a setup for a joke. Like, ‘We fell—’” He made an exaggerated boom sound with his mouth and threw his hands up. “—‘into a secret romantic cave!’” His grin stretched wide. “C’mon, dude, what actually happened?”

Kaldur’s voice cut cleanly through Wally’s antics. “Start from the beginning, Robin.”

Robin tilted his head, that faint smirk tugging at his mouth even through the bruises.

“Relax, Aqualad. It wasn’t a date.” He lifted his good shoulder in a shrug, wincing at the movement. “Unless you count an explosion, a rockslide, mild concussion, and a flash flood as… romantic ambiance.”

The words were dry, sharp-edged with humor, but Artemis caught the wince in his shoulder. Her brow furrowed.

“You’re hurt” she said flatly.

“I’ve had worse” Robin answered, brushing it off with that familiar bravado. Then, quieter, almost slipping out:

“She didn’t do it. Not on purpose, anyway.”

That single word—she—hung in the air. The others caught it immediately.

M’gann’s voice was soft, uncertain. “You mean the girl. The one who helped you escape before.”

Robin didn’t answer right away. His gloved fingers tapped an absent rhythm against his utility belt, buying time, weighing what to say. At last, he inclined his head.

“Yeah. She was there again. We both went after the target. She wanted whatever intel the Shadows were sent to grab, we were after the same. Got in each other’s way. Again.”

Superboy’s arms tightened across his chest. His tone was flat, suspicious. “And then you fell into a hole?”

Robin’s smirk returned, tired but unshaken. “You say that like I planned it. Blame the villain’s deathtrap. Explosions happened. Ceiling caved in. She and I were in the same tunnel. Whole place collapsed. Next thing I know—” He paused, his voice losing its edge. “—we’re under a few tons of dirt and metal, barely breathing. Water coming in fast. No backup. No exits.”

The silence this time was heavy. The team exchanged uneasy looks.

Kaldur leaned forward, voice steady, calm. “She didn’t leave you there.”

Robin’s eyes flicked up, sharp, serious. “No. She didn’t.”

The words landed harder than expected. Wally sat up straighter. “Wait. She saved you?”

Robin shook his head. “Not exactly. I was the one who pulled her out of the water.” He hesitated, something unreadable crossing his expression. “She told me not to touch her.”

Artemis snorted under her breath. “Well, now that sounds like a Shadow.”

Robin chuckled softly to himself, low enough it almost went unnoticed. “She’s… complicated.”

M’gann’s brow creased as she guided the ship. “But she’s still one of them.”

Robin didn’t flinch. His answer was immediate. “I know.”

Another silence fell, colder this time. And then Wally, because he couldn’t help himself, blurted out:

“Okay, but like… is she hot?”

Artemis turned her head sharply. “Wally.”

Robin didn’t even bother answering. He just tipped his head back against the paneling with a groan, as if physically willing himself not to react.

The bio-ship descended smoothly onto the mist-shrouded ridge of Mount Justice. The hatch hissed open, the night air rushing in, damp and cool.

Robin was the last to rise, his limp slight but unmistakable as he followed the others down the ramp. Kaldur touched his arm gently before he could step away.

“You will speak to Batman?” Kaldur asked.

Robin gave a crooked smile. “I’ll tell him what he needs to know.”

Wally, irrepressible as ever, clapped him on the back with a grin. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

Robin snorted. “For someone who tried to drown me?”

“Exactly!” Wally shot back, triumphant.

Robin only shook his head, a smile tugging faintly at his lips as he stepped into the mist, unreadable.

He twirled the knife you left between his gloved fingers with practiced ease, the blade catching the dim light. His thoughts replayed like static—mud, water, your voice in the dark.

Don’t touch me.

Cold. Sharp. A warning.

And yet… you hadn’t left him. Not when you could have.

Robin’s fingers tightened around the weapon. The corner of his mouth pulled in a grim, unreadable line.

You were a Shadow. An enemy. A risk.