#I probably think tim wanted to quit for a while

[fancyfeathers]

With the bat family daughter darling, did she already go to the same Gotham rich kid academy or did Bruce have her transfer there?

Referencing this post

Nope, her mom left Gotham before she was born traveled for work so she went with her so essentially she grew up around the world with maybe one or two homes in some place like New York or Singapore where they would stay for longer periods (1-3 months) when not traveling, with a tutor/governess teaching her. Like when her mother was originally engaged to Bruce he was more wealthy than her but she certainly has quite a bit of money to her name, like think Astrid Leong from Crazy Rich Asians, like the the first scene we see her in she buys earrings in Shanghai that cost 1.2 million (at cost), she has money.

Now I think Bruce would want her to attend a private academy, especially with Damian (despite the fact that she is terrified of him, it’s good sibling bonding). Now this could go one of two ways, she wants to go or she does not.

The first of two is if she might not be the best behaved and school would be her only way of socializing with other people her age, she is in a different class than Damian since he’d probably be older than her so he is not there to watch her every move throughout the day despite how much he would try to.

The other way is that she would not want to go to school there, like I mentioned earlier her and her mom had houses in New York and Singapore and while NYC isn’t too far away from Gotham, Singapore is and she has friends in both places and if she went to regular school it would be harder for her to see them when their own families were in town for business or if some good grace allowed it, being able to go back to see them.

Now the second option is very much less unlikely unless there is some serious good behavior from both of the darlings, mother and daughter. Bruce could certainly be convinced, especially after seeing his little girl’s wide smile when she finally gets to see her friends at the wedding of her parents.

Now her brothers certainly would not be happy, namely, and in order of how upset they would be, Damian, Dick, and Tim (Jason would not care enough that it would be a major issue for him).

Damian is very much that scary big brother that scares everyone away, there is no way he can look after her if she is with a bunch of people he’s never met besides maybe once or twice tops.

Dick is clingy, he doesn’t think his baby sister old enough to have friends outside of her family (ignoring the fact that she was raised by her mom and these are the kids she grew up with), he knows she doesn’t like his company much but to see her actually enjoy herself around people he does not know, it gets under his skin.

Then Tim, he has looked into everything about both of their darlings, he knows all about her friends, he knows those friends’ parents are friends of her mother, he knows of those parents and their sketchy business deals that come with most other socialite circles, and Tim certainly does not approve of them because children could turn into into their parents, he just doesn’t like the way it sits with him.

So while Mother!Darling tries to convince Bruce of allowing her to homeschool Daughter!Darling, the little girl is in the other room playing, pretending her old friends are with her.

[suzukiblu]

AND! Tim/Not Kon! Carefully navigating a relationship with someone you created to replace your dead best friend, but fell in love with as themself!

“I think you made me kind of a slut, man,” Hunter muses, which would probably not have made Tim choke quite so hard if Hunter hadn’t been speculatively dragging his eyes up his body while he said it.

The part where the other’s draped over the nearest weight bench in this Titans Tower training room and wearing literally nothing but running shorts and sneakers isn’t helping either.

Also Hunter definitely needs a haircut because his hair grew down past his shoulders in development and he didn’t want to cut it after, but Tim is just not emotionally capable of dealing with the barely-restrained curly ponytails and half-ponytails and man-buns he’s been wearing. Just–not even slightly, no. Not even a little bit. 

“You are literally a virgin,” Tim says inanely, trying very hard not to drop either his bo or his literal entire brain on the mats. “I–what? What?” 

Hunter shrugs; rolls onto his back on top of the bench. It leaves him bent backwards over it, back arched and head upside-down as he skims a hand up his bare stomach. Hunter is, somehow, even more tactile and hedonistic than Kon ever was, which Tim is very suddenly being reminded of. 

He debates the merits of panicking. Or maybe, like, running for his life. 

“I said, I think you made me kind of a slut, man,” Hunter repeats, like that’s the part that Tim was trying not to drop his brain over. “Like, either libido-wise or uploads-wise, I dunno.” 

“Wh–I didn’t put anything like–I didn’t–” Tim half-sputters, and the crushing depression that’s taken over most of his life since everyone died on him and Bruce disappeared and Dick gave Robin to Damian is possibly actually just too baffled to be crushing him right now. Hunter gives him a lazy, half-lidded look, tipping his head back a little farther on his neck. His throat is . . . his throat is very, very exposed. And thick. And long and strong and stubbled and– 

Nrgnk, Tim thinks, very faintly.

He did not ever look at Kon’s throat and think things like that. 

He is definitely, definitely thinking those things about Hunter’s, though. 

“Oh my god, you fuckin’ sad-ass wet canary, I don’t mean I think you did it on purpose,” Hunter snorts in exasperation, rolling his eyes like Tim’s an idiot or something. Tim is not an idiot. Tim is actually, like, reasonably intelligent and–he made Hunter. That required being pretty damn smart, actually! Really damn smart, actually! 

. . . and also unfathomably, unfathomably stupid, admittedly. 

“Then what do you mean?” he asks warily, because Hunter is about a month and a half “old”, except also more like nineteen, and has already decided that he does not give a single telekinetically-flying fuck about things like social graces or social filters and it’s frankly a miracle that nobody’s killed him for that yet. Or, uh. Tim. Or killed Tim for that. 

Cassie definitely thought about it, he knows. 

Seriously, though, just–as bad as Kon ever was about anything, Hunter has definitely actively decided to be worse. Which is admittedly a very “Kon” kind of decision to make, except also just . . . absolutely nothing like Kon, at the same time. Hunter literally does not even care that Superman exists, for one thing, and has about as much interest in wearing the “S” as Lex Luthor does, but also does not care Luthor exists either. Like–impressively does not care about either of their existences, in fact. 

Tim might have, uh, overcompensated a little while trying to make sure the “Kon” he was making wouldn’t have as many issues about his gene donors as the real one had, but also Hunter might just be that goddamn contrary. It’s unclear, at this point. 

“Oh, like I keep thinking about fucking climbing somebody,” Hunter says. “Like, literally? I’m pretty sure I could do it literally. You know, could float a bit if I had to, whatever.” 

“I mean, you’re very, uh–tactile,” Tim attempts awkwardly, really not knowing how to approach this conversation. “And still only have about five minutes of experience with actual human contact, but also teenage hormones? So wanting to, uh–be tactile with a lot of people isn’t necessarily, you know . . . uh.” 

“I meant I wanna climb somebody specific, Wet Canary,” Hunter corrects dryly, rolling his eyes again. “Not like, literally everyone I know. Well–okay, also Starfire and Nightwing. But like, Starfire and Nightwing, so can you blame me?” 

“I plead the fifth,” Tim says, since that is his sort-of-brother and his sort-of-brother’s situationship that Hunter is talking about right now and he just . . . he just needs the plausible deniability there at least, okay? And also does not have the time to have a sexuality crisis right now either. Like, that’s just not going to fit in his schedule, despite all Hunter’s–Hunter-ness being a thing. 

“Maybe also Red Hood,” Hunter muses speculatively, drumming his fingers on his stomach. Tim . . . does not know how he feels about that. At all. Either the fact that Hunter is talking like he’s actually attracted to guys, or the fact that one of the guys he apparently finds attractive is Jason.

“You know he literally beat me half to death once, right?” he reminds him. Hunter smirks at him. 

“Yeah, and I bet he looked hot as fuck doing it,” he says. 

“. . . . . . I plead the fifth,” Tim mutters. Hunter drops his head back even further on his neck and cackles. Tim does not think anything about his throat. Like–definitely he does not. 

“Also I would definitely sit in your Bat-daddy’s lap, if you guys ever figure out if he’s dead or not,” Hunter decides, nodding to himself as he says it. 

Tim falls off the mats. Or like–the floor, maybe? Like–that’s just what happens, yeah. Hunter laughs at him again. 

“I hate you,” Tim mutters extremely feelingly, attempting to just . . . just attempting, maybe. Literally he does not even know what he’s “attempting”, except maybe to not to have a heart attack at eighteen and a half. 

“Aw, too bad, ‘cuz you literally made me so therefore you did this to yourself,” Hunter replies with a broad grin. Tim definitely hates him. “Maybe you should work on all that self-punishing shit, man, you coulda made a way nicer guy than me.” 

“I was trying to make Kon, that really would not have happened,” Tim retorts dryly, and then wonders when exactly his dark humor got this dark. Well–logically, it would’ve been somewhere around all the dead people and all, he guesses, but still. 

“Really, because literally no one has described that dude to me as anything but, like, a socially-awkward marshmallow who was just constantly fronting whatever overbearing ‘please like me’ behavior he thought would work,” Hunter says, giving him a wry look. “Literally. Literally no one. I think the dog thinks he was a marshmallow, in fact.” 

“Right, and you’re so hardcore and edgy over there,” Tim says, eyeing him briefly. 

“I mean I’m capable of, like, things like saying ‘no’ to people who aren’t active supervillains actively trying to murder somebody not me,” Hunter replies reasonably. “So I’d like to think I’m at least, like, nougat or something. Maybe a caramel.” 

“You are not even Nutella, Hunter,” Tim says, and Hunter laughs again and then rolls back over and shifts up to straddle the weight bench, his thighs very . . . thighs about it. Tim tries not to be a weird little freak about said thighs, but in no way is he not a weird little freak about said thighs. 

Jesus, why are they so thighs. 

Hunter leans forward, bracing his hands on the end of the weight bench. Tim pretends to be oblivious to the existence of the other’s pecs and that big broad grin he’s back to wearing. It’s not like he’s not used to seeing totally different people wearing that face, between Kon and Match and literal Superman, and also like . . . Superboy Prime, fuck that guy forever, but Hunter still manages to look just a little bit more different than that, somehow. 

Tim literally does not even understand his own brain sometimes. Or at all, maybe. 

“I just keep thinking about doing the climbing, is all,” Hunter says. Tim forces his incomprehensible excuse for a brain back on track. “Like, the specific climbing of a specific somebody, mostly, but still a lot of climbing in general. And also how to convince said somebody to teach me how to have sex, like, in a way that is not the high school-level sex ed course somebody uploaded into my brain. Though like, that’s also a thing I keep thinking about.” 

“That doesn’t sound like you’re a slut, that sounds like you have a crush on someone,” Tim says, a little perplexed. “Or, uh, a psychosexual obsession with. But let’s hope for ‘crush’.” 

“Oh,” Hunter says, looking pretty perplexed himself. “Huh.” 

“The part where you’re perving on Nightwing, Red Hood, and Batman might be a little much, though,” Tim says dryly, mostly to move the conversation along before Hunter says anything that–

“Well, yeah,” Hunter replies with a shrug, leaning forward a little heavier on his hands. “”Cuz they’ve all got that same Bat-vibe somebody’s got.” 

“. . . what,” Tim says. 

“I really did not think I was being subtle here, dude,” Hunter says, raising an eyebrow at him. “Like, at any point.” 

“I literally made you,” Tim says, staring at him in disbelief. 

“Yeah, do you wanna maybe try some daddy kink and see how that goes?” Hunter asks, cocking his head with a thoughtful expression. “I feel like maybe we could do something with that.” 

“Asdfghjk,” Tim says, and falls off the floor again. 

“Like, no pressure, just asking,” Hunter says with another shrug. 

Okay, Tim thinks. Maybe Hunter’s right, and he did kind of make him kind of a slut, one way or the other. Like–maybe. Possibly. 

And maybe Hunter is also right about him having done this to himself, considering.

[rattfreakk]

I think post mh, robin might have picked up tims smoking habit, while tim decided to quit.

[nightingale-prompts]

Batboy Meets Batfam

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"Relax Batty, it's just one dinner." Dick parked the car inside the Wayne family manor's garage.

"But I hate billionaires. Can't we just go to Batburger and go home." Danny whined slumping in his seat.

"What's so bad about it? He's your grandfather now." Dick asked.

"The last billionaire I met was the only other of my kind. And he was awful. Tried to kill me, clone me, marry my mom, kill my dad, ruined my life. That last one was something he achieved." Danny's wings materilized and wrapped around him as he sulked.

"I know it's hard Danny and I can't promise no one will ever try to hurt you like that again but I can promise I'll stick by you. I can also promise to kick the butt of anyone who tries messing with you." Dick said ruffing Danny's black hair that popped out from under his leathery wings.

"Still don't wanna go." As Danny said this he began to shrink.

Dick sighed, he had learned recently that Danny was a shifter of some kind. It was useful to hide his identity but he would also use it to get out of doing things. When Dick told Danny to clean his room or study Danny would shrink to the size of a toddler and say "Im baby" to get out of it. Dick is ashamed to admit that he's let Danny get away with it because baby bat pictures are precious and worth their weight in gold. He has a wallet full of pictures now.

But Dick has to put his foot down this time.

"Danny being little won't get you out of this. Do you really want to meet your new family like this?" Dick asked.

Danny huffed and turned in his now ill-fitting hoodie the size of a 3-year-old.

"Alright come on." Dick gave up scooping the toddler-sized teen under one arm and walking into the manor. "Alfred still has Bruce's old baby clothes somewhere."

"Ahh!"Danny yelped.

"What? Don't want that? If you show up as a baby, they will think you are one. You know Tim Drake is going to be there. He's going to be in the same school as you. Do you want him to think you're a baby?" Dick said holding the kid at eye level.

In surrender, Danny grew back to his normal size.

Dinner was oddly quite as everyone studied Danny closely.

Barbara was the least concerned as he talked about work with Dick and pushed Danny a bowl of strawberry salad. She wanted good aunt points. Danny would love her the most.

Cassie studied Danny's features. It was almost creepy how much he looked like Dick. She'd believe it if Dick was his biological father. Except for the eyes. Danny had a very particular eye color they were blue in the center but kind of had a green ring on the iris. The condition was called central heterochromia and it's rare.

Damian wasn't glaring like he usually would. He looked almost wide-eyed at Danny but remained silent.

Jason was absent as always apparently he was moved by Dick's announcement.

Then again Danny was supposed to be a surprise.

Tim and Danny seem to strike a cord immediately. Danny despite how silly he was the teen was very intelligent. Tim wasn't as subtle as he wish, mostly because Danny cornered him in conversation.

"So you're more used to living in a small town?" Tim smiled politely.

"Hmm? I didn't say that exactly. I said Im just new to the city." Danny responded.

"So you're from a different city? Metro or Star?"

"Neither, It's nowhere you'd know. Not really notable."

"You're going to be family soon, of course i want to know."

They went back and forth for a while. Tim was probably irritated after finding nothing about Danny's identity. And that meant Bruce was probably suspicious as well. Dick had to bet that Bruce's overactive paternal instincts would overwrite his need to investigate.

"So Danny, have you heard of the new vigilante in Bludhaven? The one they call Batboy?"Bruce asked wiping his mouth with a napkin as he ate.

This was the question Danny was waiting for.

"Of course! Have you seen the pictures on social media! Everyone is talking about him. Like, he has wings like a bat. Do you know what I'd do to get that power?! I mean he's not Superman but come on its so cool. We don't have metas-Is that what you call them? Yeah, metas. We don't have them where I'm from so I didn't think I'd ever met one. Dick said he met him the last time he saw Nightwing and promised to get me a picture but he didn't and he said he forgot." Danny put on a pretty convincing fanboy routine.

"I see. So Dick told you he's friends with Nightwing?" Bruce probed.

"He didn't need to tell me. Nightwing found me after I ended up in Bludhaven. I was pretty banged up and he parched me up and took me to the police station. I tried to leave but he told me that Detective Grayson would look out for me." Danny said digging through his salad to pick out the fruit and nuts.

"What about your parents?" Bruce asked softly.

"Bruce," Dick said in warning.

"Its fine...my parents didn't want me anymore. I can't go back. They'd probably kill me. But it doesn't matter anymore, they aren't here." Danny said stiffly feeling uncomfortable for saying a bit of truth.

They say the best way to lie is to have a bit of truth. Danny disagreed. The best way to lie is to have no truth, so they can't tell the difference.

Dick pulled the teen closer as Danny pulled his hands inside this hoodie hiding one of the burn scars on his arm but just enough to show that they were there.

Bruce didn't say another word.

Damian seemed to make his mind up at some point and joined in the conversation.

"Do you eat meat, Nightingale? I've noticed you haven't touched anything with it." Damian sounded oddly cordial.

"Ew, no. I don't eat meat. My friend always said meat was murder and taught me about how evil slaughterhouses were. We once raided a local farm to-oop. I forgot there are detectives at the table. I promise I'm a law-abiding citizen and not an eco-terrorist...anymore." Danny smiled too innocently.

Damian nodded in understanding. They had found common ground. That still doesn't mean he liked Nightingale. But he couldn't fight him since he didn't seem to know anything about their vigilante lifestyle.

Damian had to begrudgingly admit that Danny's presence was welcome. Soothing even.

It didn't matter. He and Drake still had bigger plans. Finding out who this "Batboy" was. They just needed Dick give up some information about the bat metahuman.

Tim had his suspicions that it was Danny but Batboy had stark white hair with black streaks and green eyes. Not to mention wings.

They would have to agree to disagree.

"Danny you have to eat something other than fruit. Eat the rest of the salad." Dick tried to sound stern but caved almost immediately when Danny pretended he didn't hear that.

Bruce internally sighed. Does he step in and help or let Dick figure it out. How does one be a grandpa to a non-vigilante who you can't threaten with no patrols?

*Bonus*

Danny when he see fruit.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiii!! I love your writing for the batboys!

So my request is Jason and Dick with a s/o and their like cuddling exchanging kisses relaxing and one of their brothers get them for a mission and see their brother (Jason/Dick) with their s/o for the first time. (Maybe the other batboy didn't know Jason/Dick had a girlfriend)

Okieee! Have a great day!

Dick

Cuddled himself into your side, burying his head into your neck, on the verge of falling asleep but not quite there yet as he hummed whenever you ran your fingers through his hair.

‘You like it when I run my fingers through your hair, you might as well be purring.’ You told him while giggling as he tightened his grip on your waist when he felt you shift slightly beneath him. ‘You’d like that wouldn’t you.’ Dick said sluggishly as he pushed his head further into your hand, impatient as he waited for you to continue running your fingers through his hair whenever you stopped briefly.

‘I would but you already act more than enough like a puppy regardless. I guess what they say about dogs and owners looking alike is more true in your case but instead of looks it’s personality.’ You said as you gently tugged his hair, causing him to groan as he then retaliated by deliberately kissing under your jaw and down your neck slowly as he could.

‘You think you’re funny don’t you?’ Dick asks against your neck.

‘I think I’m hilarious when you’re concerned dickbird.’ You gasped when you felt him nibble on your skin, ‘but you love me for it really.’ You added as he raised his head to look at you with a cute little pout across his tired face. You hated how exhausted he looked and so you had decided earlier that day that he was scheduled for some much needed rest, even going so far as to drag him to bed when he was too stubborn to leave a case for a measly five minutes just to eat food.

‘I do, love you I mean.’ Dick said softly as he raised his head to kiss your lips as you hummed happily against him, just as the door to his room swung open.

‘Alright dickhead, time to-‘ Jason looked up to see that he had clearly instructed something and instead of leaving he decided to stand in the doorway awkwardly as he cleared his throat.

‘I didn’t know you had company in here.’ Jason then said.

‘What do you think I normally do?’ Dick asked his younger brother as he shrugged his shoulders.

‘Piss us about usually.’ Jason replied almost casually that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the sibling spat. ‘Now I’m sorry to cut your lovers embrace short but we need to go, preferably now because I don’t know how much longer Tim and Damian can remain together in awkward silence.’ Dick sighed and kissed your cheek as he begun to pull himself away from you begrudgingly.

‘Sorry peanut, I promise you I’ll cuddle you as soon as I get home.’ Dick said when he saw you pout, hand tugging at his shirt which only made him want to say fuck it and stay in your arms, but he knew he couldn’t leave Jason alone to deal with Damian and Tim the entire night without them unironically pissing the other off somehow. ‘For now I’ve got some siblings to keep away from killing each other, so keep the bed warm for me yeah?.’ He adds as he cups your face and kisses you on the lips, nose and forehead.

‘It’ll be cosy and warm when you come home, that and probably smelling of dog too.’ You said as you kissed the space between his brows, cussing dick to smile and relax beneath your lips, he didn’t want to leave, he really didn’t but he knew that when he did come back it’ll be all the more worth while.

‘That’s fine by me, sweetheart.’ Dick replied, completely ignoring Jason who was wondering how the fuck you managed to deal with his brother for as long as you have.

Jason had you cosied up to his side as he continued to read a book he has been meaning to catch up on for a long while but couldn’t in due to the random spikes in crime as of late.

Which unfortunately meant that quality time between yourself and Jason was short lived. So when you were finally able to have Jason by your side for longer then an a few brief moments, you were bound to leap at the opportunity to cling onto him and smother him in kisses, much like you were doing now across his jawline and down his neck.

‘Miss me that much chipmunk?’ Jason asked with a smile as he paused his reading to rear his head back, allowing you further access to his neck, smiling to himself as he felt your lips caress his skin pleasantly. Jason was very much in need for affection after going without it for far longer then he might’ve liked, especially when most days it seemed as though your affection was all that helped Jason in getting through the day; and being deprived of such was a different kind of torture for Jason when he had finally gotten accustomed to it since the start of your relationship.

‘I did,’ you admitted, kissing his pulse on his neck before pulling away to smile up at him, ‘but with how tightly your holding my waist, I’d say you’ve missed me just as much jaybird.’ You added cheekily as you gestured down to the hand that was gripping your waist almost protectively with a playful glint in your eyes.

Jason scoffed as he then tugged you closer to him, making sure to rest his forehead against your own as he spoke, ‘I did miss you chipmunk, I’m not ashamed to admit it because most days it seemed as though you were the only thing keeping me going most of the time.’ He smiles sweetly at you as he kissed your forehead, you closed your eyes and leant into his touch happily, finding bliss at long last.

Only for the door to Jason’s room to burst open. ‘Jason! Are you ready yet Damian’s- oh.’ Dick stoped mid sentence when he noticed you cuddling up to his brother’s side.

You and Jason looked at Dick, who seemed frozen on the spot with his sudden stillness and unblinking eyes, before looking at each other.

‘Is he…okay?’ You whispered to Jason, concerned.

‘He’s fine. Dick’s just being…well a dick.’ Jason replied as he picked up a pillow and threw it in Dick’s direction, ‘Paging dr dickhead.’ He adds as the pillow hit dick square in the face as you slapped Jason on the bicep. ‘Be nice to your friend? Brother? I don’t know-‘

‘I didn’t know you had a significant other Jason!’ Dick exclaimed, completely forgetting what he was doing there in the first place as he smiled widely at you both.

‘And there’s a good reason for that.’ Jason growled as his hand on your waist tightened.

‘So they’re the reason you didn’t want to come out on patrol tonight?’ Dick continued as he made himself comfortable on the edge of Jason’s bed. ‘Who knew my little bro Jay jay was in love.’ He teased and he tried to pinch Jason’s cheeks, only for Jason to smack it away with a grunt, dick shrugs as he played on his stomach and kicked his legs. ‘So tell me how you met, leave no detail out of it.’

Needless to say dick has to be dragged out of the room by the scruff of his neck by an agitated Jason as he dropped him off with Damian, who was sharping his sword, and said ‘he’s your problem now.’ And went back to his room to you to cuddle.

[allthegothihopgirls]

alfred, who writes in a journal every day unbeknownst to the bats.

alfred, who's journals aren't marked by a period of time, or his own age, instead by the names of those he looks after. when dick is first adopted, and he knows this change is permanent, he puchases a new journal, despite his existing one being only 2/3 full. this one has a simple 'richard' written with a gold accent on the cover, a change from the last 8, titled 'bruce'.

alfred, who somehow makes journaling more of a logbook, albeit still personal. he's writing about himself, sure. memories of old friends, his travels, stories he's heard, things he has experienced.

but he mainly writes of them, the things they do, how they act. their character quirks that they haven't even picked up on yet themselves. the things he wishes he could tell them as a parent, instead of butler. the things they should know about those who've come before them. the regrets he has, and changes he's making. how they've molded him into a new person.

alfred, who will take all this information to the grave. until then, they stay packed in their respective boxes, some dustier than others, in the back of his wardrobe in the manor.

the contents of those journals aren't specific to each kid. everyone's within those pages. in tim's there's a lot about jason, and damian's has a lot about bruce. nothing's overly invasive in them, and the furthest it strays from the truth is when sometimes alfred admits to believing a different set of events to whatever he's been told, and even then he's probably right.

jason, who receives his journals prematurely. there's only 2, there should have been more. it's painfully obvious the cutoff, how it wasn't supposed to end there, but still it did. he receives them post-resurrection, convinced he doesn't belong in the world. his memories of robin growing fogged and becoming twisted.

he reads them and he cries, maybe it's because he forgot how much good there was in those times, or maybe it's because that's the determining moment in his new life where he decides that he really deserves and wants to live, because his existence runs deeper than being the robin who died.

frankly it's quite jarring for jason, to read about himself from another's perspective. as much as i love the idea of him and alfred getting along the best out of all the kids, he definitely distances himself for a while to process everything. he slowly creeps back though.

no one else gets to read their share until alfred's gone, and when they do it goes unspoken, no one pries to know anything outside of their dedicated journals.

jason, after hesitance and much internal conflict, drops off his own on dick's nightstand one night. receiving them back, two weeks later, is a silent affair face-to-face.

tim, similarly, on no one's accord but his own, gives jason his, to keep. he says something about how he doesn't think they were ever about him, and they seemed much more like a sequel. he also apologises, and mentions how he almost felt like he was intruding on something. but he understands now, he doesn't clarify about what.

[swiftlymurmurs]

I've seen a lot of people voice disappointment over this Game Changer season finale and while I personally wasn't really bothered by a lot of the criticisms (I thought the Ratfish was an interesting added game mechanic and I never really care who wins or loses so his judgements not aligning with mine made no difference to me) I do think it's very interesting and I've spent some time thinking about why it doesn't work for so many. Some thoughts: Why is this Eric guy even here?

Tim & Eric were a popular tv comedy duo in the late aughts alt comedy scene. Sam and many of the writers at Dropout are sketch comedy nerds who, in 2007, were freshly at the start of their comedy careers, and probably see them and the larger [Adult Swim] environment they were a part of as a huge influence.

Why has it maybe aged poorly?

As far as I know, their popularity came in the early stages of about a decade of quite cynical, surreal comedy that also spawned the "lolrandom" era. While huge and fresh at the time, I think my generation (gen Z, the main viewerbase of Dropout) has grown pretty tired of this style and favours sketch comedy that's more clever, witty, and emotionally open or wholesome. At least, that's a movement Dropout has very much steered into with their roster of comedians and it's what the viewers expect.

The parasocial thing

It's no secret that Dropout actively promotes itself as a tight group of friendly comedians who you are invited to get to know, expect, and love when they show up. They don't abuse parasociality in the way you see, for example, younger audience oriented youtubers shoveling merch do it, but they absolutely make use of it. Most of the moments from this episode I've seen people gush over or post positively about are those where the cast recognize each other's styles, reference their relationships, and just generally make it known how well they know one another. When a total stranger enters the picture in an episode where the cast already have a barrier to their regular banter AND is given so much power over the game, they may look like an outsider or even an enemy to the happy little family people have gotten so attached to. Especially because his role is explicitly that of an antagonist, and the cast are never given a chance to see him and maybe out their love and respect for him as a comedian. In the minds of viewers, he just stays some guy who made mean jokes about their blorbo and then left.

Conclusion

I'm always glad to see this show making big swings, and while most of them have landed, some of them are bound to miss. It's a show that prides itself on trying things the viewers may not yet know they wanted and the second it stops trying, I think it'll be all the worse for it. It's a shame to end the season on such a note, but it's been hit after hit so far, and before we know it we'll be right back into it. I love this show, I love this cast, and I'm excited to see what's next!

[mouwrites]

Thinking thoughts about these guys again

Creepypasta/MH - Things That Make Them Think of You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Tim/Masky, "Ticci" Toby

Jeff the Killer

Violence. Specifically, committing it

I know that sounds bad, but he gets so high off of that stuff

The adrenaline rushing through his veins, the wild smile that comes to his face, the noise, the sights... it's euphoria for him

And when he reaches his peak, endorphins at maximum saturation, that's when he thinks of you

It's almost like he subconsciously asks himself if there's anything in the world that could make him happy like this, and his subconscious responds by conjuring an image of you

As if he couldn't get any happier, thinking of you just pushes him higher

This happens a lot...

He'll be killing someone, already over the moon, then he'll blast to Mars when he thinks of you

And he starts associating you with violence; even if you're the gentlest person in the world

It's the happiness it brings him that links it to you

Though if you're a psycho (affectionate) like him, there might be another reason he associates it with you lol

It just gets worse over time; eventually he can't even see other people committing violent acts without thinking of you

He'll be watching a horror movie, and blood will splatter the screen and he'll be like: Nice. Y/n's nice too. Y/n... <3

Jane the Killer

Quite the opposite of Jeff; it's the quiet moments that get her thinking of you

(my reasoning is confusing but I'll try my best to explain T-T)

And there are two reasons for this

One, because whenever she gets a moment to think to herself, her brain always wants to think of you first

Maybe it's just hunting that hit of dopamine it gets when she imagines your smile, or the way your hands feel in hers...

Or maybe it's just that it's become a habit for her to think of you so often, so it's second-nature that she does so when she gets the chance

But the second reason is that she loves peace, and you are her peace :)

She's a vengeful person with a lot of turmoil inside, so when her environment is peaceful, she tries to follow suit

She's just taking what she can get before she has to go back to hate and obsession

So she imagines the peaceful things in her life

Namely, you

Even if you're not a very peaceful person, she feels at ease when she's with you

So, when it's quiet, she thinks of you to quiet herself

Memories of forehead touches and holding hands are more than enough to fill the silence :)

Clockwork

Literally everything.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but Clockwork will find the most random things that remind her of you

She’s got a very creative mind; she can find the subtlest of things that make her think of you

Oftentimes they’ll be disturbing things…. Like a dead animal or smth

But she gets a little smile when she thinks of you anyway :)

She’ll probably send you a picture of whatever it was that reminded her of you

So you’ll just get a text out of nowhere like:

[picture of a dead wasp] “thought of you <3”

After a while you’ll learn to just not ask

Because you’ll definitely get one of these texts AT LEAST every other day, if not every day

Sometimes they’re actually nice things though! Like a song or a pretty sunset :)

Or something she saw while shopping that made her think of you; she always makes sure to steal …obtain those things

And ofc she gifts them to you 😌

Nina the Killer

I think it depends on your aesthetic

To me, Nina is someone who’s very in tune with aesthetics

Even if yours is super niche, or it doesn’t fit under a specific category like “emo” or “butch” or even “clowncore,” she’s got it DOWN

And so it’s always things that fit your aesthetic that make her think of you

Maybe it’s a view: a dark forest, a bright sunset in your favorite color, a sunny park, an eerily empty sidewalk…

Maybe it’s clothing: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets… always the exact kind of thing you’d wear :)

Maybe it’s music: she listens to music like. All the time. So she’s definitely at least dipped her toes into a genre that’s so totally you

Or maybe it’s something miscellaneous: a pop tart flavor, a blanket, a picture, the color on a soda dispenser…

No matter what it is, you’re guaranteed to love it

She always manages to surprise you with yet another random thing perfectly suited to your aesthetic

And she’s always on the hunt for more >;)

If it’s something she can physically bring to you, you best believe she will though

And if you decide you hate it (you won’t, but maybe later when your aesthetic changes), you guys light a bonfire and burn it together :)

Tim/Masky

It’s a Polaroid picture of you

He’s not in the picture; it’s just you

The flash is on, illuminating you and leaving the background in dark obscurity

He took it himself one night when he was just enamored with the way you looked

He did it casually, just telling you to look at the camera

The rest was all you; maybe you smiled, maybe you threw up a peace sign…

Whatever you did, he felt it captured your essence perfectly

He stared at the photo for a long time after it came out, and he still stares at it frequently

He carries it deep in his wallet where no one can find it

He’ll pull it out when he needs to think of you, usually when he’s especially down

Which is pretty often, my boy is troubled :(

He’ll trace his fingers around the edges, remembering that night

Your voice fills his ears, your scent fills his nose, and suddenly he’s aching to see you in person again

And he will; he’ll probably call or text you soon :)

“Ticci” Toby

Honestly? Probably something super obscure related to some kind of inside joke between you two

I’ll paint an example

Maybe you two were in the kitchen together, and you wanted him to get out the milk for you

But you ended up calling it a “mug of jilk” instead of a “jug of milk”

Toby, of course, bursts into laughter

He teases you for ages afterwards, calling milk “jilk” and always pointing out jugs of milk with a knowing grin

You’re in on it too though

You always snicker whenever he does those things

Maybe that’s why it becomes so special to him; it amuses the both of you

He gets to laugh and hear you laugh :D

So (in this case) he’ll think of you whenever he sees a mug of j (oh gosh oh no you guys got me too) jug of milk

And he probably takes pictures to send you too

You’ll just get a text that says “jilk mugs spotted ‼️” and a picture of the milk aisle at the grocery store

He likes to imagine your laugh when he sends texts like those :)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my lovey doves <33

(divider by saradika)

[hello-eden]

Plain Sight part 4

@sir-ghost-the-green @blankliferain @catthestampede @elliesalien @wanderwithwings @bianca-hooks123

P1 p2 p3

Tim has a kid

He has a kid

Tim was sitting on the couch trying to process every thing that Jason just said. There is a kid one room over that he had a hand in creating. A little girl named Elle that he had no idea about.

Tim can tell that Jason's expecting him to tell him that she's part of some sort of genetic experiment or a one-night stand but honestly the second he heard that she was four he knew exactly who the mom was. She was made from stupid teen love and the feeling of being on top of the world.

Tim remembers Danny quite well. 

He had no idea that they were involved in any of this and honestly Tim's a little scared that it's their fault. He knows that Danny had a mad scientist parents but Danny was never into that sort of thing. Tim remembers the scars that Danny had said were from malfunctioning weapons and hates himself a little bit for the fact that he left him alone.

The news that Danny's related to Damien is entirely another thing. Danny might not just be his fault and he should probably stop throwing himself into self-deprecation. Tim knows Danny had no idea. Danny was adopted; he told himself.

“ Are you okay there, replacement?���  Jason asks in a softer tone that he usually uses. probably being able to tell that Tim's on the edge of a breakdown.

“You just told me that I have a kid, we have no idea where the mom is and that we have no idea what could be after them.” Tim takes a few deep breaths knowing it isn't Jason's fault.

“you got any idea who the mom might be or is this a Superboy situation”

“this is more of a Damien situation”

“oh was not expecting that out of you” Jason seemed to pause for a moment clearly not expecting that answer.

 “yeah”  Tim really didn't know what to say. this had not been how he expected the night to go. “I didn't expect it either”

“You know who Dahlia is or at least whoever the hell her name is because I can tell from her file that's definitely not their real name.” Jason said, obviously trying to change the subject from feelings to something with an actual answer.

“ Danny”  Tim takes a deep breath before saying the rest having not heard their name even out of their own mouth in years.”Danny Fenton” 

 “this a nightlife situation?” Tim can tell Jason is trying to be nice about everything's going on but the bat need to know everything is certainly strong and all of them.

 “no”  Tim remembers meeting Danny with a weird amount of clarity that he probably shouldn't. “Actually surprisingly enough, I met a cute boy at a Wayne Enterprises sponsored party and got his number.”

 “you didn't stay in touch?” Jason said obviously thinking there was more to the story. He would be correct. 

“ I certainly stayed in touch for the next year until Bruce was gone and a relationship was not something I was able to do.” the answer would get out eventually especially if they did the math. Danny and Tim did not part on the best terms but Tim likes to think if they met again there wouldn't be too much bad blood.

“ oh that would certainly be a reason“

They sit there in silence for a while before Jason speaks up again.

“you going to meet her” Jason gets up from his chair and makes a move to pick up their cups. 

“What”

“you going to stay till you wake up or am I going to have to schedule a meeting in your CEO schedule” Jason said, trying to make it clear he was ok with ether option.

 “no” Tim thinks for a moment. On one hand being able to plan it out would be great, on the other he can't bring himself to move. “I'm going to stay here”

“then that settles it” Jason makes a move towards the kitchen with both their cups in hand. “want more tea?”

 “you sound like Alfred,” Tim says, giggling a little bit thinking about how absurd the situation is.

 “Well, I certainly didn't learn hospitality from the old man.”

  “sure I'll take more tea” 

[makeyoumine69]

Euphoria (Memory Reboot x2)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After wrestling with the lingering thoughts of Bateman, you finally found yourself open to Paul Allen's offer — a life-changing opportunity. But despite your resolve, you couldn't shake the need for closure. Determined, you sought one last encounter with Patrick, intent on resolving the unsaid and the undone before the cityscape of New York faded into your past.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, pegging, sex toys, face riding, penetrative sex, rimming (Patrick receiving), oral sex (69, blowjobs), edging, biting, spanking, cum shot, masturbating, praise kink, body worship, drug usage, pet names, dirty talk, needy Patrick, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation.

WORDS: 8.7k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Euphoria

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm sorry it took me quite long to write this, I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

The clock’s ticking was the only sound in the opulent meeting room of Pierce & Pierce office. Your heart seemed to beat to the rhyme of ticking, while you were nervously spinning the thin cigarette in your hands but never really trying to actually smoke;  the glass ashtray in front of you would probably be left empty till the end of the day. It was even funny how drastically things changed after that…moment of privacy you shared with Bateman. Starting from that, you couldn’t really get him out of your head, even though it has already been several weeks of your pretending game of “nothing had happened” between you and Patrick. It was a matter of time, when your colleagues would start to notice your strange behavior whenever you and Bateman were in one room. 

Squeezing the cigarette between your shaky fingers, you turned around in the leather chair to look at the New York skyline through the wide window. ‘That it is not an exit,’ echoed in your ears and you tried to shake the nervousness off from your tense shoulders, but the more you were being alone, the more surrounding space was weighing on you as if you were on the very bottom of the Pacific ocean. 

The moment the door swung open and Timothy Bryce entered the meeting room, you were more in control of yourself. “Hey, Tim. Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Sorry, (y/n). Had a business call with some delusional prick.” Bryce snarled and took a seat across from you.

“Delusional prick?”

"Yeah, you know...delusional," he chuckled and glanced at the cigarette in your hand, which was still more like an accessory. "The guy thought I gave a fuck about his life and his wife, who used to be a whore, by the way."

With a soft snicker, you made yourself more comfortable in your chair, throwing one leg over another. “Wanna smoke?”

“Yep,” he leaned over the table to take the cigarette, your fingers touched for a moment but none of you paid attention. “So, what happened? Why did you want to see me?”

Confused, you took a moment to think about your answer. You worried a lot about picking the right words, but now you were even more anxious. ‘I just need to tell him the truth and that’s all,’ you reassured yourself before turning to face Tim. “Well, the thing is - I’m quitting P & P.”

Tim’s face remained unchanged for a second, but then the man furrowed his brows, tilting his head and rubbing his ear as if he didn’t hear. “You're what? Quitting?”

"Right," you gave him a half-smile and continued. "Recently, I received a very... very good offer from one company in Chicago."

“Jesus Christ. Chicago? Really?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Bryce lit the cigarette and leaned back in his chair. “Who the fuck even gave you this idea? And why so sudden? You have such a good job here, with a good salary and…” He paused and blew a few rings of smoke. “Do those bastards pay well?”

Laughing heartily, you crossed your arms over your chest and watched the smoke dividing the room in two with a white veil. “So many questions. Are you interested in leaving Pierce & Pierce too?”  That was not a serious question, since you knew that Bryce was more than satisfied with his job. “If I say who recommended that place to me, will you keep it a secret?” Tim nodded even before you could say something else. “I was at one P&P party, that one you decided to skip a week ago. So, there I met Paul Allen and we talked a bit and he mentioned that he just came back from his business trip from Chicago…we had a long conversation, but as a result he proposed to me to think about the option to change my current job.”

All the time while you were speaking, Tim was glancing at you with wide open eyes, his prominent brows curling up and down whenever you mentioned Paul Allen’s name. It was always funny for you to watch Bateman & Co getting so frustrated and annoyed whenever Allen was around or whenever someone discussed his success with having the Fisher account. To say the least, his ability to get a reservation at Dorsia. ‘I’m not gonna tell any of them that Allen offered me dinner in Dorsia after that party.’

“So you were unsatisfied with your job all this time and didn’t say anything? That sucks, (y/n). Didn’t expect that to come, not gonna lie,” Bryce made a low sound which was very similar to growling, but at the same time it also sounded like a scoff. “But, if that really is what you want, then who am I to judge you? We have only one life to fulfill all our needs, right?”

Timothy’s statement was like a balm to your soul, that was exactly what you hoped he would tell you and when he did, you felt some kind of relief washing over you like a breeze of fresh air.

“Thank you, Tim,” you finally grinned and put your elbows on the table. “Glad you didn’t start to read me notations.”

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Him?” You squinted and tilted your head; your intuition was screaming that something was so damn wrong.

“Bateman,” with a sly smile, Bryce put the cigarette out in a glass ashtray; his glance was eloquent but you never really managed to read it. “I bet he will be upset. Very upset.”

“Bryce ” you rolled your eyes. ‘Is he lying or…?’ That question remained unspoken. “Leave these cheesy jabs to yourself, okay?”

Tim only laughed at your weak attempt to threaten him and stood up from the table. “You know, I saw him with Jean in Arcadia last night…” Now this information could come in handy… “I think they had some kind of date or something, huh,” he chuckled again and fixed his tie, giving the picture on the opposite wall a scrutinizing glance. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but something is definitely happening. In my opinion, you should tell him about your…unexpecting leaving, you know.”

Before you could respond, Timothy Bryce looked at you one last time and left the meeting room. Now, you were left alone but not really alone as the weight of the newfound information lay on your shoulders like two massive dumbbells. ‘If everything is too obvious for Bryce, what other things might the others think about me and Bateman?’ That was a rhetorical question mostly, but still you couldn’t even get up from the chair, sensing the strange, chilling fear inside your chest—what if you were mistaken with accepting the offer of a new job?

Gritting your teeth, you snarled and almost kicked the table from beneath, your palms were clenching and unclenching, thankfully no one could see you like this. Swiftly but nervously, you finally stood up and headed out from the meeting room, striving to avoid any of your soon-to-be-ex colleagues on your way to Bateman’s office. 

How many times have you rehearsed the words you were going to say while you were walking up there? Countless. But still, when you entered Patrick's office and saw his lovely secretary, everything inside you froze - words, emotions, even your breath.

“Hi, Jean,” you mumbled, with a half-smile on your slightly tensed face. “Looking good.”

“Uh, thank you,” the blonde woman replied and fixed the stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

As soon as you heard the echo of Patrick's voice through the office door, a lump formed in your throat and you had to cough several times because of the unpleasant dryness.

“Well,” you paused and glanced at the closed door with a nameplate ‘Patrick Bateman’ on it. “You would help me a lot if you let me have a private conversation with your boss.”

“Patrick is,” her voice suddenly wavered, implying that something was wrong. “He’s busy right now.”

“Oh,” you stepped back involuntarily. “Okay, I can come later.”

“No,” Jean replied curtly. “I’m sorry, but today is not an option at all.”

‘Is that some kind of joke?’ You hummed to yourself, already regretting coming here in the first place. “All right then. Have a nice day, Jean.” Turning around you already stepped out from the office when you head her voice:

“(Y/n), wait. Oh, I hope I pronounced your name correctly.” She blushed once you came back inside. “I think I can tell him about your visit, when he will be less busy.”

That offer was not something you would expect. “Actually, that would be nice,” you clicked on your tongue, considering your next steps. “Tell him that I have a reservation at Dorsia at eight o’clock–”

“Today?” Her question cut off your bluffing. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

You just grinned politely in return. “Yep, today. Tell him…that I need to talk with him about business and stuff. And, that it would be probably the last chance for him to catch up with me.” Jean’s eyes widened for a moment, but you reassured her instantly. “No drama, just changing my job.”

“Uh, that was probably a tough decision?”

“Not really,” you winked at her and crossed your arms over the chest. “But don’t tell him about that, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” She tried to hide her confusion behind a warm smile but failed. “I’ll tell him that you will be waiting for him at Dorsia tonight and that this conversation is very important.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed and for a moment just stood there, looking at the closed office door. “Thank you, darling. For everything.”

You made a special accent on the word ‘darling’, purposely embarrassing her and leaving no room for any questions and other stuff that would make a current situation even more fucked up. 

After you left Bateman’s office you had to find Allen as only half of what you told Jean was actually bluffing—you knew that Paul had a reservation at Dorsia tonight, considering he was inviting you for dinner. Allen’s strange interest in you wasn’t your top priority at that moment but using it for your sake was something you couldn’t deny at such a situation. So when you finally found Paul in one of the meeting rooms, you persuaded him to give you that reservation, explaining that you wanted to show one of your colleagues Dorsia before you would leave New York and move to Chicago. And even though everyone would find out that that colleague was Patrick Bateman, you wouldn't’ care since you would be far away from here.

A few hours later, the melodious voice of Whitney Houston reverberated off the walls of the opulent living room in Bateman's apartment, the lyrics of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," which Patrick knew perfectly, striking a chord in his chest every time the song came on.

But today everything was different.

Everything, except some random blonde bimbo who was on her knees between Bateman’s spread legs, sucking his thick cock but not actually giving him any pleasure. Frustrated, the man tugged on her hair without any compassion, bringing her closer, so her nose was almost brushing against his hairy pubis. But almost immediately, the woman began to whimper and claw at the perfect skin of his hips, and he didn't like it.

“What? Already tired?” Bateman sneered and fixated the blonde’s head in one place for a moment by her neck. “Or is that your first time? Then, I’m so fucking honored!"

As soon as the man let the blonde go, she pushed him away and sat back on her ass, breathing heavily. “Are you crazy?” the bimbo inquired and pressed a hand to her half-exposed breasts, her whole appearance looked messy. “I was about…t-to choke on your fucking dick!”

Sighing, Bateman rolled his eyes and just stretched out on the couch, lazily stroking his half-hard shaft. "So, this is your first time?" The woman hesitated to answer, which only made Patrick mock her even more. "Did you tell me that you have a boyfriend? And he works at P&P, right?"

Wiping her mouth with undisguised contempt, the blonde started to get up, but Patrick stepped on the hem of her dress and she almost fell. "Marcus! Stop it!"

"Uh, look at you," the man chuckled, watching her feeble attempts to get up. "Such a pathetic little bitch, pathetic and greedy," the man added, giggling. "Ready to give head to every vice president at Pierce & Pierce! Your boyfriend should be so proud of you."

The woman was on the verge of tears when Bateman finally allowed her to get up and collect her things. She had been in such a hurry that she had left her panties on the glass coffee table. All this gave Patrick much more pleasure than the blonde's inexperienced blowjob.

"Ask your boyfriend to teach you how to suck dicks," he blurted out as the woman rushed into the hallway, rifling through her purse looking for something. "Since he's probably a pro at that sort of thing."

But the girl was already gone. So the man could only laugh to himself, so proud of his cheeky jabs, if only he didn't feel like a schoolboy dreading his upcoming meeting with his teacher. With a heavy sigh, Bateman closed his eyes for a second, his cock was already soft, but his sac were still tense and full of his cum; he felt too unsatisfied with himself, which only made things worse.

What was it even for?

The man could just take some coke, lie down on his bed, close his eyes and think of you—that was enough for him to cum so hard that he had to go to the laundry almost every day because he ran out of sheets. But today was different, considering that Patrick was going to meet you, and not just anywhere, but in fucking Dorsia. It seemed that everyone in this town could get a res there, but not him.

Biting his lower lip, the man looked down at the throbbing cock in his hand - the mere thought of you was making him horny as hell. "Shit…" If only he could reboot his memory and get rid of that scene in the Tunnel. If only. Meanwhile, the Whitney Houston tape continued to play the song "Where Do Broken Hearts Go". Bateman doubted he would be able to masturbate, he was too nervous and stressed out, even imagining you while that bitch was giving him head didn't work. Although it usually did. "Dorsia, huh," the man giggled nervously and checked his Rolex - he still had plenty of time. As if spellbound, Patrick slid to the floor and kicked off his leather shoes, his red tie already loosened and his pants hiked down. Leaning against the couch, Bateman threw his head back and began to jack off, recalling the forbidden, sinful sensations of your hand sliding along his hot flesh. "Mmm-fuck," he moaned and shivered, his free hand already gripping the edge of the white couch, several beads of sweat running down his tense temples. What if today he finally found the courage to confess? Confess that all these days had been a fucking torture for him, that he was ready to crawl on the walls from how much he longed for you, not even physically, but mentally. Maybe, just maybe, your reassurance that everything was not over for him, that maybe he still had a chance to have some normalcy in this cruel world—could change everything?

"Fuck, f-fuck!" Patrick cursed, sensing that his impending orgasm was slipping away from him just by reflecting on the things that were happening between the two of you. Jerking off and thinking about your sexy voice, your hot body and your cheeky smile was one thing, it always turned him on better than anything else, but thinking about the complexity of your relationship… that was not a turn-on for him. Not at all. Cursing to himself, Patrick slicked back his auburn hair and quickly got up to stagger to the bathroom, where he nervously opened the cabinet behind the mirror and found a small white jar of pills. Xanax was his only stress reliever so far. Taking a deep, almost desperate breath, Bateman looked at his reflection, his bloodshot eyes full of tears that threatened to cascade down like a waterfall. "This is not an exit." Patrick told his reflection, but opened the jar anyway and took a handful of pills. Frustrated, unsatisfied, he didn't know how he was going to survive dinner with you, and Dorsia was the last thing on his mind. "Because I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared."

Luckily, the marble walls of his bathroom were the only witnesses to his downfall.

Dawn came to New York faster than you could imagine. All the way to Dorsia you were nervous, but still confident in the plan you had made earlier that day. Even though you had failed in your previous attempt to dot the T's at the Tunnel, today would be different, you were sure of it. ‘I don't even know why, though,’ you chuckled to yourself, and the taxi driver gave you a concerned glance, but you just shrugged it off, signaling him to concentrate on the road.

In the restaurant everything looked the same as when you were here with Paul Allen, but this time you were not the one who was invited, but the one who invited another person—named Patrick Bateman—and speaking of whom, was late and that made you quite anxious. ‘What if he just doesn’t come?’ This thought made you fidget in the chair, your hands fumbling with the napkin on your knees and after telling the waiter for the second time that you were expecting someone else to come, your fingers became cold as if they were frozen. 

“Maybe I can bring you some drinks?” The waiter didn’t give up, spurring you to order at least something to drink.

Quickly running a hand across your strained face, you exhaled loudly and nodded. “Yeah, drinks,” you stummered when you looked past the waiter, noticing the familiar elegant silhouette coming close to your table. “Can you…bring…some water?”

Confused, the waiter glanced down at the full glass of water next to you. “Uh, more water?”

“(Y/n),” Bateman’s voice echoed across the space. “I hope I didn't make you wait for so long,” he chuckled and took a seat at the table. “Had some important business affairs.” The moment he noticed the confused waiter, Patrick gave him his most sassy smile and checked his Rolex for no reason, probably just to show them out. “Can you please bring me a glass of J&B and some fresh salad to your taste.”

‘A salad, really?’ You almost snickered, but instead your face turned into a neutral expression. "Business, huh?"

Bateman rested more comfortably in his chair after the waiter finally left. "You know, some affairs with blonde hair and long legs, big tits and an amazing ass."

That came out of nowhere. 

Still calm, you watched the man across from you smile, surely proud of himself and so damn bossy it was almost absurd. "You mean someone in particular, don't you?"

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick put his both elbows on the table, clasping his hands, revealing his gold Rolex once again. “Her name is Stephany, if I’m not mistaken, she’s a girlfriend of one of our accountants,” the man paused before snickering. “That one who makes monthly reports, you know him. So, I’m a bit late because I couldn't leave such a lovely girl without a treat she deserved.”

Right now, you didn't care if it was true or not—his well-framed—confidence was something you found very interesting and even amusing, as it was proof that he was preparing for this dinner just like you were.

"And that's when I thought vice presidents actually worked at Pierce & Pierce." With a slight grin, you joked and finally took a sip of water, feeling your throat suddenly go dry, just like when you were talking to Jean earlier.

Bateman's sudden laugh rang out like shattered glass. "'C'mon, (y/n), don't pretend you don't know that-"

"I know that your father owns almost half of the company," you interrupted him abruptly, and he wasn't happy about it. "And that gives you certain privileges."

"Don't be envious. It doesn't suit you."

"Envious?" You set the glass of water aside. "I think it was me who invited you here so that you could finally visit Dorsia… at least once."

The air between the two of you was thick with venom and something even more poisonous. Nevertheless, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't think Bateman was acting like the jerk he undoubtedly was. But, to be honest, you expected him to act a little less smug.

"I still think this place is overrated," Patrick hissed through clenched teeth right as the waiter brought him his whiskey and salad with sliced vegetables and some cheese, which he didn't even touch, taking a big gulp of his drink. "So, uh, Jean told me you wanted to talk to me about something important. What is it?"

The waiter didn't even try to offer to check the menu again and retreated, but he would definitely come back later with the same request, since you hadn't ordered anything yet.

"Well, it doesn't seem to matter anymore," you suddenly declared, crumpling the paper napkin before dropping it on the finest tablecloth. "The thing is—I'm quitting P&P and moving to Chicago. That's it. Nothing special, really."

The moment of silence washed over them both like a tidal wave. Visibly shocked, Bateman just sat there, then nervously straightened his tie and looked around as if to call for help. 'Not so ballsy anymore, Patty?' There was something about the way he was humiliated, something that stirred a burning flame in your gut that came dangerously close to burning you alive from the inside. And again, you would be lying to yourself if you pretended you could control it.

"Chicago?" Patrick repeated as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Why do both you and Bryce react as if Chicago were a desert island?"

"Heh," Bateman rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. "So Bryce knows everything. Why am I not surprised?"

"I'd tell you more," that was the moment you'd been waiting for so long—the moment of his vulnerability, and you couldn't stop yourself like a shark who sensed blood in the water. "Paul Allen was the one who actually recommended this job to me."

Patrick's jaw clenched at the mention of Paul Allen. "Really?"

"Yes," you continued to corner him. "One day we were having dinner, here, in Dorsia," you grinned, catching every little change in Bateman's no longer confident face. "He said one of his buddies was starting a new company, and they were looking for specialists… like me."

"Well," he began, sliding his hand across the table's surface as if to calm down. "Good for you, (y/n). Congratulations!" That was the most fake 'congratulations' you ever heard, even though you were expecting a slightly different reaction. "But I don't understand. Why didn't you talk to me before? Before you made your decision."

This question almost made you choke. 'Did he really say that?' And just as you were about to answer, the waiter came across the table again, choosing the perfect moment. Before he could offer to check the menu, you raised your hand in an irritating gesture. "Bring me a vodka and orange juice," Patrick's eyebrows arched almost immediately. "Double vodka, please."

"Yes, s-sure." The waiter stuttered before taking the crumpled napkin and walking away, very stressed.

Without giving yourself time to think, you leaned against the table and muttered. "Why should I? We are not friends."

"Of course not," Bateman scowled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the black pinstriped suit outlining his physique perfectly. "Not after you gave me a decent handjob in the Tunnel bathrooms."

Patrick caught you off guard by injecting this argument so blatantly into the conversation. "Decent? It was fucking amazing." You growled and quickly turned around to see if anyone was paying attention to your table, and when you were sure there was nothing to worry about, you faced Patrick again. "Too amazing, considering you seem to be thinking about it all the time."

"W-what? I… I didn't…"

Sneering, you tapped your fingers on the table in nervous anticipation of your drinks, even though you hadn't planned on drinking any alcohol, wanting to keep yourself as sober as possible for the dinner and everything that might or might not happen afterwards.

"Relax, Bateman," you rested your chin on your clasped hands, finally allowing yourself to examine his handsome appearance, including the way his cheeks were tinged with a red hue. "You've said too much already."

And from that moment on, you began to feel relaxed, even pleased with all the things Patrick revealed to you, accidentally or not, you would use every little detail to your own advantage when the time came.

A little later, when the waiter finally brought your cocktail, you finished it too quickly, so you asked for it to be repeated under the attentive hazel eyes of the man sitting on the other side of the table. The more drunk you got, the more topics you discussed, but when you mentioned Paul Allen again, you noticed that Patrick's good mood was fading.

"Wait a minute!" You held out a hand to stop him from jumping from one topic to another. "Can you tell me why the mere mention of Paul Allen triggers you so much? Is there something between you two?"

Bateman couldn't hold back a loud, hearty laugh. "That joke's too tasteless even for Bryce," he finished his whiskey, the salad still untouched on the table in front of him. "Allen…he's…not the person he tries to pretend to be."

"Oh?"

"I think he's part of that Yale thing."

You narrowed your eyes and leaned in closer. "Yale thing? What do you mean?"

Patrick quickly licked his lips, not expecting you to delve further into the subject. "Well, I think he's probably a closeted homosexual who likes to do a lot of coke and have orgies with male hookers."

At first you just giggled out loud, not caring that some people were looking at you, but then your face suddenly became serious. "How do you know about that? Did he tell you or…" you smiled playfully. "Did he do something… that made you think so," you bit your lower lip and drank the last drop of your cocktail with unabashed thirst. "That sounds strange…very strange."

"You're drunk, (y/n)," Bateman murmured, tilting his hand as if thinking about something. "Too drunk, which gives me the impression that you're as much of an amateur at drinking as you are at doing coke."

"Uh, s-shut up."

"See? Can't even speak words."

"Maybe...maybe I am drunk, now what? Are you gonna be a fucking gentleman like you always try to be and offer me a ride? Or maybe," you fixed your hair nonchalantly, your vision slightly blurred. "Would you be brave enough to show me your apartment?"

As soon as those words came out of your mouth, you knew there was no turning back, and your inner voice, which usually kept you from doing shit you would regret, seemed to fall asleep from the high level of alcohol in your system.

The man across from you straightened up at your bold suggestion, reading the subtext with ease. "Is that what you want? For me to take you to my place?"

His question hung in the air for a moment before you managed to come up with an answer, but you didn't know how to get out of this situation and turn it into a joke, as you usually did. Maybe you just didn't want to get out of it? Just like you didn't want to let him go when he helped you get up from the table after he'd paid for dinner and the two of you were in a cab. Not to mention when you almost fell down and the man caught you in his arms, but there was still a barrier between the two of you—an invisible wall—the only line that kept you apart. The line that was too dangerous to cross, but too tempting not to think about what lay behind it.

By the time the cab pulled up at the American Gardens Building, you were half asleep on Bateman's shoulder, his Lancome cologne not helping at all, making your mind even more cloudy. But you did your best to get out of the car without his help, letting the cool fresh air bring you some relief and clarity. 

In the elevator, Patrick began to mumble about his musical preferences, but you didn't really pay attention because your brain was overworked trying to come up with a plan B in case things went too far. 'As if they hadn't gone too far already,' your inner voice suddenly tried to break through the thick layers of alcohol, affection and uncontrollable desire.

Bateman's apartment looked exactly as you had imagined—opulent, stylish, and very minimalist. Everything seemed to be in its place, including you, standing next to the tall window in his living room.

"Not a bad view," you admitted, taking off the jacket of your suit. "Not Central Park, but not bad at all."

"Central Park?" Patrick asked, hiding in the kitchen, which was perfectly connected to the living room, but you couldn't see him behind the wall as he examined the large number of different kitchen knives.

"Yeah, you know, Paul Allen's apartment faces Central Park, looks really fancy," you didn't mean to hurt Bateman's feelings, but the moment you turned around and saw him, it was obvious that your words had reached him. "But, I really prefer your place...it's more modern for my taste."

Puzzled, Patrick didn't hurry to join you in the living room, his thin fingers never ceasing to slide up and down the sharp blade in his hand, but at the very last moment, the man put the knife back in its place. With deliberate steps, he walked out of the kitchen and approached his stereo system.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, as if his life depended on your answer.

Such a reaction from him was oddly appealing, the vulnerability, the desperation in his brown eyes. This was a level of satisfaction that no drug could ever match. Meanwhile, Bateman turned on the music, the charming voice of Phil Collins filling the room as "Invisible Touch" began to play.

The man was examining the tape in his hands when you slowly approached and gently cupped his face, inducing him to look at you. "Yes, I do," you confirmed your previous words, and when Patrick didn't flinch from your touch, you decided to go on, tracing your finger along his sensual lips, fighting the urge to kiss them here and now. "Speaking of preferences," you removed your hand only to place it on the lapel of his suit. "Would you be a good boy and give me a full tour of your apartment, including the bedroom?"

In any other situation, you would probably die from shame at saying something like that, but not now. Not with him, because no sooner had your question escaped your lips than you noticed that his hands were shaking, and the CD was about to fall out of them, so you had to gently grab it and pull it out of his hands. Bateman reminded you of a man struggling with addiction, every twitch of his plump lips, every furrow of his perfect eyebrows spoke volumes about the undeniable affection between the two of you, an affection you were both too exhausted to fight and hide.

Without further ado, you placed the CD on top of the stereo and pressed Patrick against the nearest wall, holding the lapels of his Valentino suit and sealing his hot mouth with yours, opening it wider with your tongue, so eager to taste him again after such a long wait.

"Mmhm," he purred into the kiss, his hands desperately wrapped around your waist, then going lower to cradle your hips, groping and squeezing a little too hard so that you had to bite his lip to make him stop, but the man just growled and pushed you closer, your groins rubbing against each other in the most lewd way possible. "Bedroom...go to the bedroom...and wait for me there."

Bateman's words right after the kiss sounded like nonsense, which you found oddly arousing. With a foxy smile, you licked his cheek, then his neck, almost biting the artery and sucking on the reading mark. "No, no, no, Bateman," you shook your head, grabbing his neck slightly to kiss him again, but he did it first. Even now Patrick was trying to take the lead, your tongues fighting for control like two snakes entwining around each other. "I'm in no mood for games or waiting."

The moment you said it, Bateman lifted you with practiced ease as if you weighed nothing, and you didn't even have a chance to protest as he began to move toward the closed room behind his white couch. In his arms, you finally felt complete, even if you let him take the lead for a while. Noticing the pair of panties on the glass coffee table, you wrapped your legs around him and buried your fingers in his silky hair, ruffling them and letting them fall on his forehead, making him look even hotter.

Jesus, you were on the verge of an explosion just from the foreplay alone.

Bateman's bedroom greeted you with stark white walls, the brightness of which was almost painful to look at as he turned on the light holding you with one arm, and the king-size bed on which he carefully placed you, but you didn't let him pull away, tugging at his tie and forcing him to lay on top of you.

"Fuck, look at you," Patrick grazed your earlobe before massaging your chest through your shirt and hovering over you. "So insatiable, aren't you? Running in circles like a trapped kitten."

Growling, you pulled him closer again to suck on his lower lip, letting your body rub against his so you could feel how hard he was, so painfully hard, considering the sound he made when you snaked your hand between his legs to cradle his bulge. "Are you gonna cum in your pants if I don't stop?"

With a determined persistence, you continued to massage his hard cock through the layers of his expensive clothes as you removed his jacket and then his suspenders, one by one. Bateman didn't interfere as he was also busy getting rid of your clothes without actually tearing them apart.

"Let me," you insisted as soon as you noticed him struggling to unbutton your shirt. "This is my favorite shirt, you know," you gasped, your own fingers trembling, making it difficult even for you to finally remove your shirt. "I don't want it to get torn."

When you finally got rid of the top part of your clothes, the sight of your exposed skin made Patrick grunt in hunger, and the next second the man was already sucking on your nipple, his muscular frame shaking on top of you from your teasing ministrations on his twitching dick and hard balls. Damn, you wanted to suck him dry as much as you wanted to ruin him until he forgot his own name.

"Don't like it anyway," Bateman muttered suddenly, holding your hands above your head. "You need to go to some... fashion shows... maybe you will have more free time in Chicago, considering Paul Allen offered you this job. I'm sure it would be some boring shit."

‘Good Lord, he mentioned him again…’ You rolled your eyes and turned away from his face, eliciting a low rumble from Patrick's massive chest. "What the fuck is wrong with Paul... are you... jealous of him or something?"

"Me?" he asked, confused and you took the opportunity to release your hands and roll over so that you were now on top of him. "I'm not the one bragging about having dinner with him in fucking Dorsia!"

Bateman sounded like a little boy who was upset that no one wanted to play with him, which made you giggle, but then you straddled him and opened his white shirt and removed his tie.

"The more you talk," you murmured as you ran your hands along the smooth skin of his torso, paying special attention to his toned pecs and abs. "The more you make me think you two had a history," you leaned down to teasingly lick his lips, your sneaky hands already working on the zipper of his pants. "But still, I don't care." In one swift motion, you pulled down his pants along with his boxers, watching his thick cock pop out, yearning for your attention. "Mhmm, the last time we were alone you worked me up really good, I wanna return the favor," your hands wrapped around the base of his beefy shaft, the small droplets of his pre-cum already covering its tip, forcing you to lick your lips in hunger. "If you have nothing else on your mind?"

Did you really care about his feelings since you asked him that question? 

The man beneath you was definitely growing impatient, his hands gripping your hips as if he was about to imprint his fingerprints on your skin if you were not wearing your pants. 

"Lie on your side," Bateman suggested suddenly. "Take off all your clothes and lie down here," he tapped the spot next to him and you stood up quickly, as if he had cast a spell on you. Never in your life did you get rid of your clothes faster than now. "Uh, what a cute ass you have, (y/n)."

You frowned at his words, giving him your dead stare as you slipped out of your underwear, giving him the full view—the glint in his hazel eyes was too much to ignore—so you turned around and presented yourself to him; Bateman couldn't help but lazily stroked himself, putting a hand under his head. 

"Tell me, Bateman," you began, your hands slowly sliding down your bare skin. "Have you been thinking about me all this time?" You cupped your ass, bending over a little so he could see the spot right between your legs. "Or have you found a way to forget things you don't want to remember?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a second. "I wish there was a way to forget." Patrick murmured and watched as you lay on your side in the 69 position, then he did the same, his hot breath scorching the soft flesh between your thighs. 

You wrapped your hands around his hips and eagerly took his drooling dick in your mouth, while he was lapping at your crotch. "Mm-fuck," you jerked against his face, your fingers digging deeper into his skin as Bateman feasted on you like the most delicious meal. "Me too, Bateman, m-me too."

Having said that, you swirled your tongue around the swollen tip of his veiny cock, causing a muffled moan to erupt from his mouth, its vibration sending shivers down the base of your spine, only spurring you on to go further, pushing his dick deeper into your mouth. Soon the room was filled with the soft, wet sounds of your shared oral pleasure, punctuated by soft but powerful moans and groans as you both teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Gripping your ass, Bateman responded to your actions with the same passion, devouring every drop of your flavor and giving you no chance to escape, his strong arms like ropes around your body. After giving his cock the attention it deserved, you decided to tease his heavy balls with light lapping on them, before slipping a finger inside his tight ass, you expected him to protest but instead you heard him moan and the next moment his hips began to move towards your penetrating movements.

"Good boy," you praised him, rolling your eyes at the way the man was sucking on your most sensitive spot. "Taking my finger so well..."

The coil in your lower abdomen was about to snap at any moment, but you still wanted more, you wanted to feel that cock inside you, even if it was going to rip you a apart. Breathlessly, you didn't even remember asking him about condoms, and how you managed to get out of bed and go to the closet, where you found a little box Bateman was talking about—its contents almost made you gasp in awe, so you decided to take it with you.

"Well, well," you crooned as you stepped back into the bedroom. "Should I ask you what this is or are you going to tell me?"

With a wide grin, you held out a large purple dildo, Patrick's eyes twitched and he gulped, leaning on his elbows. "I... I use it with hookers," the man confessed, licking his glistening lips covered with your juices. "Why?"

"Hmmm, you like watching women play with it?" You asked as you reached the bed. "How about actually using it and not just watching?"

Damn, you could swear you saw his breath catch in his throat, his muscles tense and his dick throbbing just at the mention of using that sex toy on him. 'So he likes that idea, what a naughty boy,' you chuckled to yourself and took your place on the bed next to him. "This is going to feel so good, baby," you brought the dildo to his lips, suggesting that he lick it for lubrication, and when he did, you could barely keep yourself from cumming, just from the sight of his tongue flicking around the tip of the silicone sex toy. "Get on your knees and let me take care of you."

"Fuck," Bateman cursed, but it was too late to turn back. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, the man got down on all fours and gave you full access to his firm ass, which you immediately fondled, spreading his buttocks and biting them one by one. "Mmh-hmm, (y/n)."

"Relax," you stroked his hips, kissing the lower part of his back just above the dimples that were too sexy to ignore. "God, you have such a beautiful body," you decided to praise him, knowing the effect it would have on him. "I would worship it forever if I could," which was only half true, or maybe...it was not. Leisurely, you showered his soft skin with little peaks here and there, dotting it with your marks of love, not even realizing that you were giving all of yourself to the process.

As you pressed the tip of the dildo against his puckered muscle ring, Patrick tensed at your touch, gripping the sheets and closing his eyes, so overwhelmed and confused at the same time, but your reassuring hand on his trembling one encouraged him to look back at you as you hovered over him to kiss his lips, his neck, his shoulder.

"(Y/n)," Bateman suddenly huffed through his clenched teeth. "I want you to..." he gasped as you flickered your wet finger around his tight asshole. "...fuck."

"You want me to feast on that delicious ass of yours?" You finished the sentence for him, grinning in pure gratification at his complete submission. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, y-yes," he grasped the sheets and positioned himself more comfortably on all fours— a clear sign that he was not used to this position and you couldn't miss it. "I want to feel your tongue... all over me."

"Shit, Bateman, you're a real sweet talker." With that you put the dildo on the bed next to you and before you knew it you were spreading his ass cheeks wide open to make a flat lick along his tight hole. "I wanna hear you," you gently but insistently probed his ass with your warm tongue, giving him several slaps on the buttocks that drove the man wild as you felt his velvet walls tighten around your tongue. "Good boy, c'mon, spread it out for me."

Blushing, Patrick used both hands to spread himself for your eager ministrations as you fucked him with your tongue while your hands traveled all around his hips before you wrapped one of them around his pulsating cock, fuck, he was so close, you could tell by the way his balls tensed when you gave them a slight squeeze.

"Don't cum until I let you," you commented and the next moment you were already pushing the sleek sex toy into his ass and this time he accepted it gradually, taking it in with ease—the sight made you gasp but you focused on giving him pleasure. "Tell me, Bateman, how does it feel?"

The question remained unanswered for a brief moment as you began to slid the dildo in and out, stimulating his prostate and causing him to shake and whimper in pure bliss, but when you decided to add fuel to the fire by jerking him off and sucking on his strained sac, Patrick could barely contain himself, his legs about to give way at any moment.

"F-fuck, a-aahhh, mmhhmm," he murmured into the pillow, his hands finding their way to your messy hair, gripping them almost to the point of pain. "I...c-can't...hold...it any longer," Bateman's wailing bounced off the walls of his luxurious bedroom, which had never seen anything like it before. "I..."

Though you wanted him to last longer, you were too overwhelmed yourself, feeling the string in your belly ready to burst. "Let it go," your words were like a balm to his ears as, just a moment later, his cock pulsed in your grasp, spraying loads of his thick cum across the Chinese sheets that Patrick had always been so fond of. "That's it…" You didn't stop fucking him with a dildo, nor did you stop pumping his throbbing dick, milking it until the last drop of his seed. "Good boy, you're such a good boy." 

Panting, you pulled out the sex toy, covered in his slick, and brought it to his trembling lips, inducing him to suck it before taking it into your mouth, feeling the mixture of tastes on the tip of your tongue. Then, Bateman rolled onto his back, desperately gasping for air, his cock still hard. That was fucking phenomenal, but you didn't comment, thinking about your own orgasm at last. Locking your eyes with Patrick's hazel ones, you touched yourself the moment he beckoned you over, and without words, you mounted his flushed, sweaty face, riding it as desperately as you could, using his tongue and lips without shame. Tilting your head back, you grabbed his head and almost clawed at his scalp, feeling your insides about to fucking explode from the tension. So when you peaked, your scream could be heard all over Bateman's apartment. The orgasms you had before were nothing compared to this. It took everything from you, it made you die and rise again.

The final chord of the parade of shameless lust was when you let him fuck you in a way you didn't even expect. Spooning you from behind after he put the condom on, the man lifted your leg and sheathed himself inside of you till the hilt, making you feel so full you had to wrinkle the fabric underneath, but that was just the beginning as Bateman pulled you closer, trapping you in his arms like a cocoon, his tongue sliding around your ear shell with undisguised affection,

"Mmhmm, fuck, you're...so perfect," the man whispered into your ear, setting up the pace and resting his hand between your legs for extra stimulation. "Holy fuck! I'm cumming again, omh-shit..."

"Fuck m-me, yeah, just...l-like that...a-ahhh," you coaxed him to fuck you harder as you suddenly found yourself on the verge of climaxing again. "Gimme everything, baby, a-awww...goshhhhhhhh," you were the first to fall over the principle of pleasure, twitching along his body as if you were hit by the electric shock, all your nerves were on fire. "Bateman, mmhm-fuck-fuck! Your dick feels s-so good.."

Your vivid orgasm became the last straw for his second release as you felt him bite at your neck, his buffed frame shaking in spasms of pure rapture, you even had to hold back a scream from how painfully Patrick's hands squeezed your hips, but it was pleasurable pain of being ruined, of being fucked into a wet mess. Barely breathing, you didn't even remember how you passed out from exhaustion and for the first time in the last few days you fell asleep completely satisfied and happy.

When the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds into Bateman's bedroom, you were already awake, as was he, but since you were lying with your back to his face, you didn't notice until the man kissed your shoulder, snuggled up against your neck, and made you roll over to face him.

As you did so, you dared to look directly into the brown eyes still clouded by the aftermath of your shared pleasure. "Hey." He muttered in a husky voice.

"Hey," you murmured back, hugging the pillow. "Did you sleep well?"

“Surprisingly—yes," the man stretched his arms, flexing his muscles and checking himself in the mirror on the other side of the room, which you hadn't even noticed. "(Y/n), I want you to go to the office and tell everyone that you're not going anywhere."

Shocked, you blinked several times, not knowing what to say as you hadn't expected anything like this.

With a nervous chuckle that turned into a hearty laugh, you rolled onto your back before sitting up on the bed. "Oh God, you're such a little Delulu, it's even funny," you looked at him—his face was nothing but a blank space without any visible emotions. "Did you really think that random sex would change my mind about changing jobs?" You chuckled again, louder this time. "I mean, the sex was really good, but... it's not like I'm going to give everything for this, you know?" With that, you got up from the bed and wrapped a blanket around yourself. "Can I take a shower?”

Trapped in the thought that only he could know, Patrick rolled onto his back, his eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the ceiling above him. "Yes," he murmured, barely audible. "Do whatever you want."

Walking towards the bathroom, you suddenly stopped and turned half around. "You better forget it," you said, savoring every word and finally returning the favor. "Maybe ask Paul Allen for advice," you grinned as you watched Bateman close his eyes in a feeble attempt to distance himself from everything that had happened. "Maybe he knows something about memory reboot machines that can help."

Without waiting for his answer, you continued on your way to the bathroom. Even though you were pleased with yourself, your revenge didn't taste sweet, but bitter, and its bitterness would remain on the tip of your tongue even after you washed yourself clean under the hot streams of water.

But the game was worth the candle, as they said.

Was it?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[cinnbar-bun]

Pony (Various SBR x Reader)

Characters: Diego Brando, Johnny Joestar, Mountain Tim, Gyro Zeppeli (separate)

Prompt: "My saddle's waitin' / Come and jump on it."

Summary: How ya'll get down and dirty together with your fave cowboys.

Rating: NSFW THERE IS NOTHING BUT SMUT HERE

Notes: Reader is GN!, no body parts mentioned for reader, implied to be during the SBR, no spoilers for Part 7, just pure smut hcs.

Word Count: ~2.3k

You can read on my AO3 here!

Taglist (if you'd like to be added, please fill out the form in my pinned): @bruabbina @adeadcreator

Diego Brando 

The type to suggest a casual arrangement before he gets seriously involved with you. He says it’s just to relieve some stress during the race but before you know it, he wants you closer. 

Tries to present himself as a dominating and forceful top, and that’s probably how many of your sessions will go at first. He refuses to give up power easily and especially not in a presumed ‘casual’ mutually beneficial arrangement. 

In reality he can be quite the switch, something that will be explored the more you two get intimate. He relishes power struggles, and will goad you into trying to dominate him further or putting you deeper in your place. 

A talker, Diego will almost never shut up. Whether it’s praising how your body squeezes him, degrading you smugly, coaxing you to ‘tame’ him, or begging for some pleasure- his mouth will be running. 

He makes such beautiful noises <3 

Prefers to have sex in more secluded areas, preferably your tents late at night. But if pushed to it, he will not be opposed to just taking you in an alley or in the woods out in the open. 

“Since you acted so wanton earlier, it shouldn’t be an issue for you, should it? Now stop whining.” 

He loves when suck him off while he’s sitting or standing. It makes him feel like a king. He’ll give you plenty of praise or condescending compliments while you do so. 

His fingers are amazing. Calloused from holding the reins for so many years, but experienced at the best ways to give you pleasure. 

Diego tends to admit his true feelings or get more possessive during sex. A lot of “mine” or “for me” and “I love you’s” are thrown out while he’s going at it (or you’re going at him). 

Occasionally cannot hold back how feral he feels because of Scary Monsters. He will be rutting and grinding into you and telling you he needs you now. 

Probably one of the few occasions he will not be talking beyond mindless grunts, groans, and growls. 

Does like roleplay, not really anything elaborate (especially not during the race when time is limited), but he does like indulging in specific ‘roles’ for you both. He tends to like being called ‘master’ or ‘sir’ or even ‘my lord’. Don’t worry, he’s happy to do the same for you if you want it (sigh can you imagine him calling you master/mistress I’m-). 

Has no preference for where he finishes, because he truthfully wants to cover himself all over you, whether you swallow, giving you a facial, or inside- he’s raring to go again to finish on a different spot and exert his place with you. 

If under the influence of Scary Monsters, though, he will tend to want to finish inside you. 

His aftercare is pretty crappy at first, especially when it’s meant to be ‘casual’, because he thinks he’s such hot shit that you should be grateful you even got to sleep with him. But as he gets closer to you, he will either grumble and tell you you’re so dirty while cleaning you, or just silently help you then hold you close. 

He can be very clingy after sex, making him hold you close and bury his face into your shoulder/chest so he can inhale your scent and regain himself.

Johnny Joestar 

Type to get caught trying to ‘relieve’ himself and weakly ask for your help. And really, how could you resist that flustered face?

Johnny isn’t inexperienced, absolutely not, but he hasn’t slept with another since his time as a pompous jockey who had people throwing themselves onto him left and right. The guilt and his injury left him rather rusty and self-conscious about his performance. 

You’re gonna have to do a lot of the heavy lifting with him, but Johnny proves himself to be an eager lover. 

Lots of foreplay between the two of you, with Johnny having a preference for face-sitting. He also will incorporate some of the Spin with you to act as a ‘vibrator’ of sorts to pleasure you more. 

Self-conscious at first but slowly grows more comfortable and confident as you two continue together, making him relax. While at first he tries to stay silent or apologizes/mumbles under his breath a lot, he’ll slowly begin to crack some jokes and be more vocal. 

This is when you’ll see Johnny shine more. He’ll offer more creative suggestions and kinks for the both of you to try out. He’s wonderful at adapting on the fly if he finds you enjoying/disliking something. 

Besides his stated fetish for bug bites (which will seriously get him going if he sees you with some), he just really loves your ass. He straight up cannot get enough of it, and will be grabbing and holding it whenever he can. 

Continuing with that logic, he loves reverse cowgirl because he loves seeing your ass bounce against him. 

Johnny’s dirty talk tends to consist of him throwing expletives and saying what he feels. He’s not too good with roleplay because after a while the pleasure crashes his brain and he just starts talking mindlessly. 

“Ah, shit, you feel so good… fuck, keep going.” 

He can be a teasing bastard when he really feels like it. Often, he’ll employ the Spin on you, then pull it away just before you finish. He can get pretty cheeky, but that’s just how you know how comfortable he is with you. 

His neck and collarbone are some of his more sensitive spots, and if you focus your attention there, he loses his mind. Leave him some hickeys and tug on his hair, and he’s positively gone. He will complain about the marks later, but secretly admire them and be happy he’s got them from you. 

He likes finishing on your ass. Second favorite thing would be to have you swallow, but he finds it pretty attractive if some of it spills out of your lips. 

His aftercare is good and he’ll do his best to care and comfort you. But majority of the time he’s just spent and exhausted and wants to snuggle with you. He gets rather soft and whispers a lot while you two bask in the afterglow. 

Mountain Tim 

The type of man to want to be romantically involved with you and take it slow, before he can’t contain himself and has to have you. 

Tim is a gentleman, he really is. For a bounty hunter, the man takes great care to try and woo you and behave properly around you. Because, truthfully, this man is a romantic deep down. 

He’ll never try and let his desires get the best of him for fear of taking advantage of you, so you’ll have to initiate. And the minute you initiate, he’s all for it and will jump at the opportunity. 

A giving lover- so giving that the both of you, on occasion, were spent with only the foreplay. 

He’s passionate. His actions can be overwhelming in the bedroom, but you can practically feel the love dripping out of him. He goes nuts for you. 

Obviously, bondage is most likely occurring. His stand gives him a multitude of ways to tie you up and tease you with his body. He will take advantage of his powers to bring you the utmost pleasure. 

However, his favorite kinks include cockwarming and overstimulation. He would love to be inside you forever if he could, and he often likes to tease you by having you sit on him for a while before he moves. 

As for overstimulation… he’s gonna make you cum over and over. He always praises you for finishing and will try to urge another orgasm out of you. He loves seeing your face and hearing your breathless moans and whimpers. 

“That’s it darling… that’s it. You’re doing so good for me… you can give me another one, can’t you? I know you can, darlin’. Just let me take care of you.”

Heavy on the praise. He’s never mean or degrading, because he loves you too damn much to do that. At worst he’d do some condescending praise, but majority of the time it is pure praise for how amazing you are and how good you feel. 

While he can lean into some sub/dom dynamics with you, often sex is just an outlet for the both of you to express your affection and love. 

He is often a service top for you, but leans more towards dom. That doesn’t mean he won’t sub for you, he absolutely will if you desire it. He’d love nothing more than to see you riding him. 

He prefers positions where he can see your face. Tim will coo for you to look into his eyes and shake his head when you try and cover your face or look away. He just loves seeing your facial expressions. 

Reverse cowgirl is a good treat once in a while for him, too. He loves being able to smack your ass and praise how you’re riding him. 

Likes to finish inside. He believes it’s more proof that the two of you are bound together. 

His aftercare is amazing. Probably the best guy around at it. Course, he’ll be a bit of a flirt and tease, but he always care for you just as any good cowboy should. 

Gyro Zeppeli 

Also the type to suggest a casual sexual relationship with you before he falls for you. 

If you were to look up “wild” in the dictionary, you’d find Gyro’s picture right next to it because this man is an absolute loose cannon in the bedroom. Or tent. Or woods. Or alley. Or body of water. Or wherever the hell you two decide to have sex. 

Gyro isn’t ashamed of his desires and will seek you out pretty often. 

He’s experimental in bed. He is experienced from his many sexual escapades back then, but since the race, he’s been steady with you and likes trying whatever new wacky whim crosses through his mind. 

His surgical and anatomical knowledge combined with his teasing nature makes him a menace. He knows almost every nerve and muscle on your body and how to manipulate it for your pleasure. Not to mention, his control over the Spin will have him working your body in overtime. 

Gyro likes to tease you during inopportune times by using the Spin on you to act as a vibrator and get you excited, but he’ll act like nothing is going on around the others and make you wait. He’ll eventually have the two of you secluded and “take care” of the problem he caused, all while having that shit-eating grin on his face as he tells you you’re getting too desperate. 

This man is getting goofy and silly with you during sex. Expect some bad puns or jokes while he’s ramming your insides. 

An unfair and rough lover who gets pleasure from hearing your voice. He will never want you to be quiet, and he makes it his mission to have you screaming by the end of it. He might chide you and call you out for being too loud, but honestly he doesn’t care if everyone else is hearing it. He just loves how your voice sounds. 

Roleplay is common between the two of you. Sometimes it’s ‘prisoner x jailer/executioner’, ‘surgeon x patient’, or ‘royal x dutiful, loyal executioner who is totally gonna be rewarded for being an awesome partner today in the race, right?’ 

Gyro surprisingly can stay in character and he will play his roles very well for you. He gets pretty into them when he wants to. 

Likes doggy style a lot. Whether for you or him, he just wants someone being on all fours and their ass being grabbed. 

Switch, leaning more towards top/dom. But he finds it hot if you take charge of him and put him in his place (and he’ll serve you like no other, baby). Will call you whatever you want him to call you, no questions asked. 

Occasionally drops some Italian in the middle of banging you. This was especially prevalent when he started falling for you and would loudly proclaim “ti amo” over and over without addressing it in English. 

Despite his playful attitude both in the bedroom and out, he can get pretty serious and emotional with you. Sometimes the rough horseplay just doesn’t cut it, and he’ll lay back and thrust slowly into you while gripping your hips to help you ride him. He’ll talk less in these moments and just enjoy hearing both of your gasps and quiet moans. 

Doesn’t have a specific preference on where to finish. He just does it wherever he feels. He commonly does it on your back or stomach, depending on the position. 

His aftercare is wonderful. Yeah, he can be a joker sometimes but the afterglow with you is nice and can get pretty romantic. He’ll glide his hands over you gently and trace over the marks he may have left on you or just to feel your skin underneath his fingers. He’ll clean you up and have you both rest. He did reveal he could relieve some of the soreness from your body with the Spin, so occasionally he’ll do it (admittedly, he does like seeing you limp or wobble after a tryst with him). 

It’s where Gyro will be at his most tender with you, where he will cradle you and look at you with eyes full of love and desire for you. He speaks quietly in these moments and likes to ramble about nothing with you. And when he pulls a small laugh out of you, he thinks he could just die on the spot and be content.

[2tcs]

I love your content so far from what I read and I had a crack I did just hit me

After a while the bat family finally decides to get rid of Ra al Ghul like take him down and take his position from him as the leader of the League of assassins to dismantle it

Ra al Ghul never warned anyone if they want to actually become like the main watcher over the Lazarus pits but they have to go to a 2000 door haunted house run by the ghost King who is 15 years old

So I'll be entire bat family is practically being put through spooky's haunted house 1000 doors except it's Phantom haunted house 2000 doors

Danny believes that anyone that wants the Lazarus pits is undirectly like a bad person so he kind of uses it to a trauma dump on people and be mentally tortured these people so they drop out of taking it

He's getting help from Ghost like Ember Techn, Poindexter, Wulf even cujo

Like they put Ra al Ghul through hell and now they're going to put the bat family to that because they have no idea or not if they're good people

So it's just Danny traumatizing them by making with the horrors and some of the deaths of the ghost the last shocker is at the last door they have to relive Danny's death then Danny will come out and hand them a key and then proceed to give them the whole feel about being the new owners of Lazarus pits

I just enjoy the idea of Danny and the ghost being terrifying

I don't think Danny knows enough ghosts to pull off 2000 doors but he does know Ghost Writer. As well as several ghosts who could make them relive each other's worst/most traumatic moments. Ras probably went alone when he did his trial. But if the whole batfam is going in? So much ammo.

It could start out simple. Lure them into a sense of ease.

---

"Huh. When the scary voice said we would be facing trials to prove our worth. I didn't expect sentient, cuddly blobs." Duke said petting one of the blobs that was chirping happily. Not noticing as his fellow vigilantes and friends also began to cuddle the blobs.

It takes them three hours before they realize that they've lost time and begin to fight the calming effect that the blobs exude and head towards the door on the other side of the room.

---

And maybe embarrassing.

---

"Once upon a time."

"WHY THE FUCK AM I WEARING TIGHTS!"

"I don't know. I think they look good."

"Shut up dickface."

---

Even a bit annoying at times.

---

"I AM THE BOX GHOST!"

"WTF! This guy is more annoying than Condiment King!"

"At least he isn't dumping ketchup on us!"

---

The first few hundred doors could even be called easy for people like the bats.

---

"Quit hitting yourself. Quit hitting yourself." Jason said after he ripped off the robot's arm and started to use it to beat the robot.

"Hay. Don't you think you're going too far Hood?"

"Stop your incelence! For I. Skulker. The greatest hunter ever. Shall be the one to skin you alive and use your pelts as a rug in my den!"

"You were saying Dickolase?"

"Give me the other arm. I want to break this pinata open."

---

But that ease does not last long. Soon they are faced with the suffering of others.

---

"What was that. What was that!" Steph shouted as she clung to Tim. Trembling from the adrenalin rush.

"I think. I think we just died? In a motorcycle crash? Did we just get hit by a CAR while on a MOTORCYCLE?!"

"That motorcycle crash was quick compared to how I died! So shut the fuck up!" Jason yelled before stomping toward the next door. And if his hand was shaking as he reached for the doorknob? No, they weren't

---

And even faced with the consequences of their failures. Failures that nearly tore them apart. Failures that could still tear them apart.

---

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Shut up old man! You never asked! You weren't there! You're Never There!"

---

And temptations.

---

Dick looked around as his family piled into the living room of the manor. Everyone was laughing at something Duke said. Jason laughed the loudest as he slung his arm over Tim's shoulder for support. (Wrong, this is wrong, why is this wrong?)

---

And nightmares.

---

"Give them back! GIVE THEM BACK!" Bruce screamed to the sky as he clutched his kids as close to him as he could. Falling into despair as their bodies, their corpses, grew colder. The echos of their own cries of pain and anguish ringing in his ears.

---

They still manage to fight through the physical and psychological horror. Even when they are pushed to experience torture that not even their most vial villain would do to them.

---

"I'm alive! I'm me! Mom! Dad! Please! Please!" "Shut up you freak! Honey, get the muzzle. I don't want to hear its lies anymore." The woman, the monster, in the teal hazmat suit said as she pulled out their intestine and hung it on a rack for further examination.

---

They persevered. And when they leave the last door behind? And are faced with a young boy, no older than 14, who looks like an amalgamation of all of the Robins when they were that age?

---

Danny watched as the would-be-owner of the Lazarus Pits stumbled through the door. Only for an entire group of Kevlar waring fruitloops to fall out of the door.

"So you are the fools who think to control the blood of King Lazarus. So far you have seen many facets of the horrors that can come from..." Danny started his monologue before he was interrupted by the one wearing a cloak reminiscent of a bat falling to his knees.

"Please. Please say we don't have to fight you. I can't. I can't." He said before breaking down in tears as several others joined him in his cry fest.

"Shit." Danny said as he looked at the people before him. Panicking over what he was supposed to do.

[timmydraker]

CW: drugs

When Tim is seventeen, Bruce gets a call from his principal asking for a private meeting to discuss Tim’s education. It’s not abnormal, but the parent teacher meetings weren’t due for another month and something about the tone of Professor Wilcot’s voice leaves Bruce concerned.

He organises it for the next afternoon and politely tells the timid looking man to please get to the point.

Wilcot answers with a tight lipped frown, “I recently discovered that Tim has a few nicknames. Now, that in itself isn’t a probably but the names themself are… concerning.”

Bruce immediately thinks of Red Robin and worries his son has been caught, but that makes little sense when Tim has shown to be the best at contingencies and secret keeping.

“Such as?”

With a deep sigh the man continues, “Well, there’s ‘Benzo’ and ‘Opi’. As well as ‘27’, which is recently learned references a so called ‘club’ of celebrities who die at that age for-for drug abuse.”

Even if he wasn’t a detective, Bruce could easily put it all together. Benzodiazepines and opioids, both drugs and a number well tied to such a thing all regarding a famed person.

It’s like he’s just gotten inside from being drenched in snow and had hot water dunked on him as dozens of different moments come to mind. He remembers Tim going from being down and low, tired and drained to suddenly being extra alert and chatty. He assumed it was coffee, but Tim often had a red nose and sniffled like mad.

He also got shakes, was made fun of by his brothers for being a sweaty person, and irritable at the best of times. He was jumpy and easily spooked, which everyone connected to him growing up safe and getting no sleep.

Tim also had forgotten basic case information a few times but usually managed to cover it up.

Bruce had noticed and responded by trying to lessen his work load, only for Tim to scream at him, storm off and come back looking drowsy a couple of hours later.

Wilcot doesn’t speak for a while, seemingly giving Bruce the chance to process his words but when he does it’s just to put forward the last bit of evidence Bruce needs.

“I admit it isn’t exactly ethical, but I check Mister Drake-Wayne’s locker and… I thought it would be best if I let you chose how to proceed lest I harm his reputation.”

A bottle, almost empty, of Oxycodone and a half full bottle of Oxymorphone.

Bruce looks away when the last bottle lands on the table, it’s a benzodiazepines called Dalmane and there are no pills because they’ve all been crushed into a powder.

Bruce doesn’t even want to think about how those drugs interact.

Wilcot says one last thing before he leaves the room, quit clearly giving Bruce a moment as the reveal settles in his mind, “Tim is a good kid. He’s kind to everyone and I truely hope he can get help. Please, if there is anything I can do, contact me. Other than that, I will keep this quiet. Please take care of him.”

Let it be said that Bruce Wayne loves his children, he genuinely cares for them and most importantly, he likes who each of them are.

But he’s not always the best father to them, not when he’s too far in his head and his head is too far up his arse.

He tries to confront Tim calmly and with compassion at first but it becomes clear he isn’t qualified to deal with it and he should have gotten Alfred or even Dick. When Batman deals with addicts all he has to do is get them to a hospital and show he isn’t judging them, but with his own son and when he’s not being Batman…

Tim instantly locks up when Bruce shows him the bottles and his defences go straight into overdrive, “Bruce, don’t. That’s not fair! Did you go through my fucking stuff?! That’s fucked up!”

Bruce looses his composure quickly, “Don’t you dare curse at me, Timothy. You are a goddamn hero and you’re doing this? Why did you tell me?! I could have helped you! Why, Tim?! You e seen what people who abuse drugs end up like-“

Tim screams so loud Bruce can practically hear how it hurts his throat, “WHAT FUCKING DRUGGIES?! IS THAT WHAT THEY END UP LIKE?! TOO FUCKING LATE BRUCE, YOU’RE TOO LATE! I GAVE YOU EVERY FUCKING SIGN AND YOU DID NOTHING SO FUCK OFF! I. AN HANDLE IT ON MY OWN!”

“This ain’t handling it, Tim. You’re addicted. You’re erratic, you’re bouncing from mood to mood and, have you seen how skinny you are? I’m worried, Tim.”

Maybe Tim would have been able to handle it better if he hadn’t been a few hours into withdrawal, but all he does is swing. He manages to catch Bruce of guard and hit him square in the jaw, only to realise what he’s done and start hitting himself the same way.

Bruce breaks as he watches his son who is usually so calm and controlled break down in a fit of aggression and pent up energy.

When Tim manages to hit himself hard enough Bruce. An hear a crack from his hand.

As he speaks again he dooms himself to a life time of regret, forever wishing he had gotten Alfred’s advice first.

“I’m sorry son, but until you’re clean, you will no longer be Red Robin.”

There’s a silence before Tim releases a wheezing laugh of disbelief.

It’s soon followed by the most enraged, harrowing scream Bruce has ever heard. It feels as if it shakes the walls before Tim kicks at his father’s stomach and bolts.

Bruce is too stunned to follow and foolishly assumes he can track his son anywhere.

Tim, even after he manages to shakily pull out the Dalmane he had in his pocket just as he passes the gate and take a big inhale, manages to put his mind together enough to remove his watch and key.

Bruce is forced to shamefully admit what happened a few hours later when he can’t find him and realises that Tim isn’t coming back.

Alfred for the first time in Bruce’s entire life actually glares at him.

Dick shouts at Bruce about how unbelievably stupid he is.

Jason just scoffs and says the kid will come back while Damian makes a comment about Tim being weak.

Maybe they would have reacted better if Bruce told them why Tim left, but he shamefully doesn’t want to admit he didn’t notice that Tim was a dealing with addiction under his own nose.

But Bruce has never been good with honesty.

[brucewaynehater101]

Hear me out for something. So we agree that Tim definitely took a bunch of Ras ninjas when he blew up the place right? And they're *super* loyal to him and also very, very competent.

What if when Tim brings Bruce back from the Time Stream, once Bruce is healed up, he insists on taking over WE from Tim. Not because Tim is bad at it, but because he doesn't want to sit around doing nothing while he physically heals and isn't allowed to be Batman.

So Tim decides to use the money he made to revive Drake Industries. He'll need a bunch of very loyal workers who know how math works to fill out upper management to make sure there isn't any corruption and wouldn't you know it. He has a couple hundred of exactly what he needs stolen from ras who are getting antsy about not having anything to do.

It only takes a year, maybe two at the most, for Drake Industries to raise to rivaling Wayne Enterprises and Lex Corp like it used to before Tim's parents died. There are rumors though, that it's impossible to rise beyond a certain point in the company as all those positions are filled already and if a new one opens, it's given to someone that no one has ever heard of before (more defectors from Ras). All the people on the board are weirdly young (is that Olympic Gold Winner Cissie King Jones???) And one of them just had a big scandal go public about being Lex Luthor's illegitimate son that he kicked out for being gay?? This is not at all what happened with Kon, and Lex has been trying to calm the rumor mill around it but the gossip collums have taken this and ran with it.

You would think that with a board of directors so young and a company so new that's so big, corporate espionage on them would be *easy* but that's to the fact that every single member of upper management would die for Tim, none of it happens. His company is massive and air tight. People who try to bribe his workers into selling secrets often end up in strange accidents. After all, you can take the person out of the Ninja Death Cult, but you can't take the Ninja Death Cult out of the person.

Yes! There is a series not quite like this, but dear to me. "Where Bats and Birds Roost" by Mouse_in_this_house has BAMF Tim Drake with ex-LoA agent spy network that he hides via the Neon Knights initiative.

However, I love that your AU had Tim make it from the corpse of his parents' company. Instead of using Bruce's resources, Tim used the ones that only belong to him. I also like his rehabilitation plans for all the defectors and their loyalty to him because of it.

Tim should go around snatching up people from his enemies because he has better benefits, way less chance of the job killing its employees, and charisma. Maybe Bruce gets a little annoyed cause WE employees also prefer to work at Drake Industries (probably not, but it would be funny).

Also, YJ working for DI? Brilliant ^^

This type of chaos and the BAMF Tim are spices I need more of. Let Tim use his whacky ability to befriend his enemies for his benefit!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Happy Scary Halloween

Requested Here!🎃👻

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!SWAT!fem!reader (w/ daughter from previous relationship)

Summary: Lucy asks you and your daughter to help prank your boyfriend Tim on Halloween, but he isn't the only one who gets scared.

Warnings: vague spoilers for Megan (2022), quotes from other horror movies, fluff!

Word Count: 1.9k+ words (I had fun with this one haha)

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“Coming with?” your teammate asks. “We’re meeting at Fanny’s.”

“Not tonight,” you answer softly, looking down at your shoes.

“Mid-Wilshire will be there,” she adds, shaking her shoulders as she watches you.

Rubbing your neck to hide your reaction to the mere thought of Tim Bradford, you murmur, “I have to pick up my daughter.”

“Ugh, fine,” she concedes. “You get a pass this one time. But you can get a sitter – shoot, I’ll watch her next time if it gets you out for a few hours.”

“Thanks.”

You leave the locker room and walk through the station, unable to keep your mind from drifting to Tim and when you’ll get to see him next. You’ve been dating for a few months, and your daughter gets along with him well, but it’s been just the two of you for so long that you are unsure if you’re comfortable with taking the next step. Tim is quite possibly the love of your life, and you don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, but your daughter comes first. I need to buy her a Halloween costume, you remember as you get in your car.

“What do you want to dress up as this year?” you ask your daughter, who rests against your shoulder as you watch an old Halloween movie.

She shrugs and moves closer, wrapping you in an awkward hug. “Any ideas?” she asks you. After speaking, she shakes her head and mumbles about the character on screen being dumb for going into a cemetery alone.

“Depends,” you answer. “Do you want to be cute, scary, something in between?”

“I dunno. Maybe we should ask Lucy for help.”

You nod and smile. “Probably.”

While you relax in the comfort of your home, watching the end of a movie with your daughter, Tim sits at a table in a diner surrounded by other police officers. The days leading up to Halloween are usually some of the worst days of the year for cops, rivaled only by Halloween itself and Spring Break. He’s tired and wants to see you, but his department put in a lot of work over the last few days, and Angela guilt-tripped asked him to come.

“Any big Halloween plans?” Lucy asks as she slides into the booth seat across from Tim.

Tim shakes his head and leans back in the seat.

“You’re going trick or treating aren’t you?” she guesses. “Getting soft now that you’re in love, huh?”

“Watch it, Chen.”

“What’s my honorary goddaughter dressing up as?” Angela inquires.

“Honorary goddaughter?” Tim repeats, raising his brows. “What?”

“Just tell me what she’s going to be, Timothy.”

“I don’t know, don’t think they’ve decided yet.”

“They? Oh my gosh, I love them so much,” Lucy gushes. “I wish my mom and I got along like they do.”

“What can you expect? They’re both shy,” Angela points out, “and they’ve had each other through everything.”

“You and Wesley giving out full-sized candy bars again?” Tim inquires, attempting to move the conversation away from you and your daughter.

“Of course,” she scoffs. “And we’ve got a bet going to see which costumes will be most popular this year. He’s thinking Spider-Man, I’m thinking Hermoine or Megan.”

“Megan?” Lucy repeats, his eyes widening in a way that Tim knows too well – she has an idea.

“Don’t start, Chen,” Tim sighs.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“C’mon, Lucy,” Angela beckons, “let’s go where we’re appreciated. There’s some firefighters from the 118 back there, maybe we can get you a date for the Halloween party.”

“As long as his costume isn’t a shirtless firefighter,” Lucy stipulates as she follows Angela. “Once was enough.”

Tim checks his phone, unsurprised to see you haven’t texted him. Yet, he smiles when he sees the picture of you and your daughter on his wallpaper. Maybe he is getting soft, but not for anyone except you.

Across the diner, Lucy drops her voice to communicate her idea to Angela, Nyla, Nolan, Grey, and Wesley. It will take some convincing, and a few minutes of practice, but it has the potential to be amazing. Most impressive, it might actually scare Tim Bradford.

“If I get punched, I’m blaming you,” you murmur to Lucy as you straighten your costume.

“If he punches you, Angela will punch him back,” she replies. “But I don’t think he’s going to go that far. I want him to run, not react.”

“We are talking about the same Tim Bradford, right?”

“He’s on his way,” Angela announces. She turns to your daughter and asks, “Are you ready?”

��Yep!” your daughter answers, smiling at you. “I’ve been practicing.”

“This is the best Halloween ever!” Lucy exclaims.

“I’m still saying it doesn’t work,” Wesley calls from down the hall, where he’s setting up a fog machine.

“Have a little faith, Wesley!” Angela replies. “He loves them, his guard won’t be as high.”

Your cheeks warm at her comment, and you walk to your daughter to fix her wig and dress instead of replying to Angela’s claim. Tim does love you, you know that, but it doesn’t make it easier to remain impassive or collected, for that matter, when someone else points it out.

“All these years of SWAT training to just prank him with a creepy doll movie,” you muse quietly.

“Hey, that’s a good point,” Nolan replies. “If he punches you, just use that training.”

You look over your shoulder to scowl at Nolan, but his eyes meet yours, and he smiles, so you turn away quickly. Tim will arrive any minute, so Lucy turns the lights off, starts the music she made for this prank, and everyone moves into place as the fog machine whirs.

The front door opens, and you inhale deeply but silently, just as before a raid. It clicks closed, and you count Tim’s steps before he flips the light switch. Nothing happens thanks to Nolan flipping the breakers, and Tim’s movements grow quieter but not impossible to track. In time with his soft breaths, you tap Lucy once… twice… and then lay your palm flat against her arm.

A spotlight in the corner of the hall comes on, dim and buzzing lowly, as it illuminates your daughter, dressed as Megan and standing with her head down. The replica katana Wesley brought glints on the table from your position but should be invisible to Tim. He moves into the hallway and narrows his eyes as your daughter looks up. The blue contacts Angela helped her put in seem to glow as she watches him.

Suddenly, the music changes and your daughter steps to the side, beginning the dance from the movie as she moves down the hallway and nears Tim. Pushing off of the wall, she spins and lifts the katana. With a deep breath, she does the measured lunge Nolan helped her learn and stabs the blade toward Tim. He jerks backward just as the light turns off. Your daughter giggles as she disappears into a dark bedroom.

Though he can’t see you, Tim is only feet from you as he turns in a slow circle in the dark. Lucy’s music fades before Megan says, “This is the part where you run.”

All the lights in the house come on as Nolan flips the breaker, and you wait behind Tim. When he turns again, he steps back quickly at the sight of you. Sitting in a chair and dressed as Annabelle, you let your head drop to your shoulder before Angela and Wesley throw several dolls out of the doorways in the hall, letting them land with clear thuds on the hallway floor.

Tim steps back, narrowly missing the table while he backpedals toward the door. You’re admittedly shocked at how well this is going, but you’re also beginning to feel a bit of remorse for pranking him like this.

“You need to learn some manners, Tim,” your daughter says, stepping back into view with the katana hanging from her hand.

Tim reaches for the doorknob, then stops. He watches her for several silent seconds, then says her name. With his complete focus on your daughter, you stand and place the life-sized Annabelle doll in your chair.

“That-“ Tim begins, leaning forward to place his hands on his thighs. “That was pretty good.”

“You were scared,” your daughter taunts, bouncing in place. “We did it!”

“I can’t believe that worked,” Wesley murmurs as he turns off the fog machine.

“Add that to your Tim Tests!” Lucy exclaims, emerging from the kitchen.

“I should’ve known you were involved.” Tim turns toward ‘Annabelle,’ and says, “Okay, you did it, you can get up now.”

The doll doesn’t move, and he looks at Lucy, who keeps her eyes on the white dress and shakes her head. Tim walks to the chair and lays his hand on Annabelle’s shoulder, causing her to tip onto the floor.

“Where’s Mom?” your daughter asks, looking between Angela and Lucy.

“She was Annabelle,” Lucy murmurs slowly. “I didn’t have a doll.”

“We didn’t either,” Angela adds. “She has to be around here somewhere.”

“Nolan, if this is-“

“It’s not me,” Nolan interrupts. “This wasn’t in the plan.”

“Tim,” your daughter calls, more of a squeak than anything, as she points to a trail of red droplets leading toward the side door.

Tim leads the way, followed closely by Angela, Lucy, and Nolan, while Wesley waits inside with your daughter. They exit the house and see bullet casings scattered across the small patio but no sign of anyone.

From your position on the roof, you can see their expressions, the worry and fear they’re attempting to mask – likely for your daughter’s sake.

“I see dead people,” the speaker you mounted below the patio covering whispers.

“Do you think she’s doing this?” Lucy whispers.

“I don’t know that she could,” Angela points out.

You smile beneath your mask, moving closer to the edge. Pressing a button on your phone, the speaker plays a dial tone before shifting to a quiet static sound.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” you ask from the roof.

Tim, Angela, Lucy, and Nolan turn quickly, and Nolan presses his hand over his heart as he sighs. You don’t know what you look like, perched precariously on the roofline in a Scream-face mask with a long black robe rippling in the breeze, but clearly, it worked to scare Tim even more.

You pull the mask off and smile. “So, did we scare him?”

“Him?!” Lucy repeats. “You scared us!”

 Tim smiles suddenly, and your eyes drift to his chest.

“You scared your daughter, too,” he points out, clearly proud of himself.

“Did I?” you challenge softly.

Wesley and your daughter exit the house, and she smiles as she looks at Tim. He shakes his head and hugs her, then demands that she change or at least take out the contacts.

“Happy Halloween, Tim,” you call.

When they turn around to find you, your position on the roof is empty, not even a shadow of your robe is left as evidence you were ever there.

“Thanks,” you tell your SWAT teammates as you land on the ground in your front yard. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Oh, we got the good end of this deal,” your teammate says. “Bradford trying to get out of the house without any sudden movements was golden. And it’s all on video. Good luck dealing with him now.”

You sigh as they leave and return to the backyard, where Tim cups your face and demands eye contact. You squirm in his hold, and his smile widens.

“I’m getting you back next year,” he promises.

“Ooh, I’ll help!” your daughter agrees, moving to stand beside you both, her shoulder pressed to yours.

You, however, get caught in the idea that they both want to be here, beside you and with you, again next year. It’s a happy Halloween, indeed.

[deaddovedecadence]

if requests are open, i'd like to ask for a fic of yandere batfam caring for a sick reader (i've got 1 foot in the grave rn 🤒) with forced infantilization (if that doesn't squick you out, hopefully) gn reader would be preferred. thank youuu 🙏

They are in fact open and fun fact, ive never done infantilization before so im super excited. I think what I'm doing to do is like a mini fic of each batfam member and how they're deal with you being sick. I'll totally do a gn! reader but they might come across as non binary.

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Alfred: not the worst but not the best. Fussing over you all the damn time whenever you have even the faintest bit of even a cold because he’s lost enough people, you will not be one of them. He tucks you in bed. and will read to the books he read when he was young, smiling to himself with you fall asleep from the drugged milk. Over all a 5/10

Bruce: Doesn’t really believe in it. Thinks that forcing you to be strong will make you, an oldest daughter even stronger. Still when you get sick he’s so gentle with you, cooing that he loves you and that soon you’ll be all better, that your dad is here now. It hurts so badly because you know who he is and yet he’s so fucking gentle with you. 5/10

Dick: Honestly he’s like this all the damn time. Says that because you were an oldest you ought to relive your childhood. Holds basic respect over you to make sure that you do what he wants when he wants because you know that he’ll go back to that coddling cooing cruelty if you don’t. When you’re sick it’s turned up to the max because he likes taking care of people who can’t fight back. Likes being able to hug you and hold you and love on you all he wants. 8/10

Jason: He’s definitely more gentle with you than he is with his siblings but definitely has rough edges. He sees you as someone that needs to be protected but in the manor you are more equal. He fusses when you’re sick for sure because even though he knows that you have the best medical care, he still remembers all the people he lost in crime ally. He’s not obvious about it because he doesn’t know how to be but yikes does this man watch over you like a hawk. 4/10

Cassandra: Thinks that you’re weak and needs her care in a way that her siblings and steph do not. Cass respects strength and the ability of people to take care of themselves ,and you in her eyes can not do that. So when you fight, she forces you down, humming sweet lullabies from cultures all over the world. When you’re sick it proves her point because the rest of them would have been over this by now. You need her. 7/10.

Tim: uses it to manipulate the fuck outta you. Tells you that you are weak, that your sickness is proof you need their love and attention. Will drug you to be dependent on them will you’re ill and probably made you sick in the first place so you’d learn that you belonged in the family, that there is no going back for you. Calls you a child even though you’re older than him. 8/10

Duke: They almost coordinate with Tim, making sure that you never suspect any of them. Duke’s power is words, they know how to spin them and manipulate them and make it so that you aren’t really sure of what’s real and what you dreamed up. A gaslighter to the max. Loves and respects you but thinks that you need to stay here, you aren’t strong enough to be a bat’s lieutenant. 7/10

Damian: While Dami does think that you are weak, he also thinks that. there is a value to you that the others do not quite understand. You soothe the family and act asa merger so that even when they anger each other, they come back for you. Damian is very intuitive and this allows him to understand you better even if he lacks empathy to those outside of his family. Even when you are ill he worries over you but demands you heal because you are strong. 0/10