#Red Robin x Y/N | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kimberly-spirits13 · 1 month ago

Text

Tired Timmy

Pairing: Tim Drake x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Fluff- When you return from a mission, you realize how tired Tim is and get him to sleep.

Note: Found this in my drafts and idk what it was doing there so here ya go

Word Count: 1598

Tonight, was an especially cold night. Snow fell over the city and blanketed everything in sight. You had just gotten back from a mission in the Amazon and was on break from patrol duty. Aside from getting used to the change in climate from where you were versus where you are now, you were worried about Tim. Of course, he was relieved that you were back safe and sound, he told you as much, but he seemed especially stressed as of lately. It wasn’t uncommon for him to stress about you leaving for a mission without him, but even coming back didn’t seem to stall his emotions.

“How’s it going Timmy?” You asked in the comms, watching the surveillance cameras from around the city.

“mmm” he grumbled in response

“That good huh?” You started snickering at his response, “Only thirty more minutes and then you can come crash.”

“Good to know.” He said as you watched him haphazardly swing from one building to another, “any leads on the Riddler case?”

“A few, I’m pretty sure he and Penguin are in cahoots again. I’d say that they’re getting ready for a heist. Give them three weeks tops.” Tim heard paper being tossed around as you combed through the case files regarding your suspicions, “We can go over them when you’re rested.”

“I’ll be fine.” Tim said, “We’ll talk about it when I get back.”

You weren’t going to argue with him. Tim could be stubborn about working and you didn’t want him angry on patrol, especially when he was this tired. It was a good way of making sure that he came home injured.

“Dick, make sure that Tim doesn’t throw himself off a building or something.” You said on a private link.

“I’m always on it, Y/N/N.” He replied in a chipper tone, “You see it too?”

“Yeah,” you leaned back in your chair, watching as the boys ran through the city, “I’ll pick his brain on it when you guys get back. Just make sure he comes back in one piece.”

“Will do.”

You logged into the computer database on Penguin and Riddler’s recent moves, trying to pinpoint connections to them. It was late and you told Alfred to go to sleep so there was only Damian’s pets keeping you company. The first sign of extra life was the sounds of the Batmobile roaring through the underground tunnels. Sometimes, depending on how fast Bruce was going, the walls would vibrate and shake. Dust from the cave’s ceiling would fall onto the floor and in the air as he came flying into the garage. Today it was mundane, and no dust came off the walls. You heard the mechanical sliding of the doors opening and two pairs of heavy footsteps before the sound of two other engines roared through the cave.

“How’s the investigation going?” Bruce asked, raking through the papers as Damian picked up Alfred the cat from the chair arm rest.

“It’s moving along nicely. I think they’re going for the new diamond exhibit downtown. I don’t know why anyone exhibits anything valuable in this city anymore.”

Bruce gave a stiff chuckle before patting you on the back, “Good work, turn in for the night, you need rest.”

Bruce started walking off as Tim came up and leaned over the side rest.

“Hey babe.” He tipped your chin to give you a kiss.

“How was patrol?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“It was fine.” He said, pulling up a chair next to you.

“You seem exhausted.” “Timmy let’s go to bed. We need rest.”

“Looks aren’t always as they appear Y/N/N.” He mindlessly ran his fingers through your hair and stared at you, “What do you have on the case?”

You knew there was nothing you could do to get Tim to go to bed at this point. It was time for plan “yapping to death”. Talking fast, you told him everything you had. There was no repeating what you had said, and you started flipping through the papers as fast as possible without raising suspicion. You had the clocks set to look like a later time, making sure that Tim would think it was later than it was. It was obvious when the plan was working since you saw Tim’s unfocused eyes start wandering around the cave. When it got to this point, Tim would finally decide it was time to rest.

“Does that make sense?” You asked, thumbing over his fingers, “I’ve got the schematics of the-“

“Y/N/N, it makes sense but, uh, I’m not focusing anymore.”

“Do you wanna go to bed?” You asked, searching for any sign of resistance in his eyes, “Come on.”

You stood up and pulled him out of the chair, he leaned into you and let his weight rest against you.

“Sorry, you just got back from a mission, you must be sore.” He said, leaning off you.

“It’s okay Timmy, I’m alright.” You hugged him and led him upstairs, “Come on, I’ll get you to bed.”

“M’ not a baby, I can’t get there myself.” He mumbled into your shoulder before pausing, “That came out snappy.”

“You’re fine Tim. I know you’re tired.”

“I’m fine.”

Again, you didn’t say anything back, but instead led him up the next flight of stairs and into his room. Leaving him to grab his clothes, you walked into the bathroom and started the shower. When the water was warm enough, you opened the door to tell Tim it was ready. He walked in before calling you back in, the softness of his voice showing how tired he was.

“Hey um, you haven’t showered yet either have you?” He asked, crossing his arms with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“I showered after dinner Tim.” You said, raising a brow.

“Oh yea.” There was a silence in the room for a few seconds.

“But, if you insist, I can’t say no.” This made Tim chuckle a bit before you shut the door and he dropped the towel before he got into the shower himself.

You quickly undressed and opened the glass door, joining Tim in the hot stream of water. Tim leaned his head against your shoulder and sighed deeply.

“I’m tired.” He admitted, wrapping his arms around you, relishing in the heat of the water and the closeness of you.

“I gathered as much.” “You’ve been over working yourself recently. I told Dick to make sure you didn’t run yourself to death before I got back.”

“It’s not Dick’s fault.” He said, “I have my ways.”

“Oh, I know.” You laughed, making Tim laugh with you.

“I’m glad you’re back. I thought I’d kill someone for the past three weeks.”

“I’m glad to be back too. Also, glad you didn’t kill anyone, that would be unfortunate.” You started running shampooed hands through his hair, washing the dirt and grime down the drain.

Tim closed his eyes and let the water run over his head, washing away the soap and eventually the conditioner that you ran through his hair. He began to wash himself, making sure not to run over the bruises on his torso. Tim gave you a quick glance before double taking. “What’s this from?” He asked, running a soapy finger over a stitched wound on your stomach, “I haven’t seen it.”

“Got grazed by a blade during the mission.” “One of the assassins got the best of Cassie and I jumped in front of her.”

“It looks painful.” “I’ve been leaning on you this entire time, are you hurt anywhere else?” He spun you around and started looking for signs of other injuries.

“Besides a few bruises, I’m fine. You’re fine Timmy; I’m not hurt.”

“This doesn’t look fine. Why did you tell me?” He asked

“I didn’t want to worry you, you’re exhausted.” The rest of the soap ran off the two of you and into the drain, “I didn’t want you stressing yourself out.”

“I’m sorry.” Tim said honestly, “You said to get rest but I totally didn’t.”

“Tim I’m not upset with you. I know it’s your job and you feel passionately about it, I’m just worried you don’t sleep, it’ll get you hurt on the field.”

“I know you’re right.”

“Come on, let’s get dress and go to bed. I don’t think I have a change of clothes in here.” You said grabbing two towels from the heated rack.

“I brought you some sweats.” Tim replied with a smirk.

“Oh, so you’re admitting that you planned this all along?” You laughed nudging him jokingly.

“Just the shower.”

When you had dried off totally, you walked back into the bedroom and turned the fan on. Walking back to the bed, you saw that Tim was already getting into bed. His eyes were fluttering shut and opening again, over, and over. He turned his head to you and spread out, getting comfortable.

“I’m tired.” He said softly.

“I know love.” You climbed next to him and reached over him to turn the lamp off.

“That’s a good view babe.” Tim said with a smirk in his voice before you leaned back onto your side.

“Glad you approve.”

You laid down, pulling Tim closer to you. He put his head into the crook of your neck and took a deep breath before wrapping his legs around you. Pushing the covers over his shoulders, you ran your fingers through his hair, watching as his breath evened out and his body relaxed.

“I’m exhausted. Can’t sleep without you” he said in a whisper.

“I know Timmy, but you can sleep now.”

#tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #tim drake imagine #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake fanart #red robin x reader #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #red robin imagine #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfam imagine #batfam fanfic #batfam fic

263 notes · View notes

lesbianbarbaragordon · 3 months ago

Text

Still thinking about last night

”No, no, but seriously,” you start, adjusting on your seat, “it wasn’t that bad. At least not by the end. I felt like we had-“ a connection, that you managed to see him as he was for at least the brittlest of moments. But the sentence dies at the tip of your tongue. You prefer to keep that to yourself. pairing: tim drake x reader tags: stalking, average tim behavior, college student reader word count: 1.7k

“Do you look up all your girlfriends?”

Tim doesn’t like the insinuation, but he shoulders on because Barbara’s network is far more extensive than his, far more even than the Batcave’s, and this is a favour, after all.

Your face is on full display, a shot from your ID, taking up the main screen on Oracle’s setup. You don’t look very happy.

Your hair is longer than when he met you the other night, and he sees the fading of some sort of dye on the tips of your hair. 20 years old, born and raised in Gotham, there is nothing outstanding about you.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he replies as an afterthought, his eyes on the screens. You enrolled in GU last year, took up journalism as a major. Why would a college student live in a warehouse?

Because it has to be a warehouse, why else would it have been called like that in the files?

The incident that led him to your apartment is still something that embarrasses him. A mistake on his part, something that shouldn’t have happened.

He keeps going over the details, trying to understand; it was just the criminal of the week, a robbery gone wrong at a jewelry shop, hostages that shouldn’t have been there. He had been sneaky, gotten inside before anyone noticed, and released the hostages in record time (which was good, because when they started shooting, Tim was the only one inside). But one of the rogues got on the defensive when they saw he was one of the bats, had gotten a hit on Tim’s ear, and broken his comms. Then a shot in the darkness and a sharp pain took over his senses.

Which one was the lesser evil, running away to seek shelter while he was still lucid? Or detaining the rogues but risking further injury?

The final matter came down to “what would Bruce do?”

So Tim had pushed through, managed to knock them out, cuffed them somewhere the police would find them, and left before anyone else could see him.

The sky was raging, as expected of Gotham, when he stepped foot on the rooftops outside. His breathing was ragged, the pain was excruciating and he had left the Red Bird at the cave.

It only crashed down on Tim as the thunder and lightning erupted around him, shivering and in pain. Once the adrenaline left, it hit all at once-

He was alone.

It only took a second for the gears to kick in. He couldn’t access the Batcomputer, or call anyone who could help. He could take care of it without them, but where would he go? Leslie’s clinic was on the other side of the city, and after retiring it had fallen under new management, would whoever was i charge still treat vigilantes? There were no warehouses around the area either, not ones he remembered anyway, and the longer he thought, the more he started to fear bleeding out in the streets.

What other things did he have access to offline? His suit had prior saves of data, backup files from years prior. Tim accessed them with shaky hands.

As he thought, not many places to go to in the area, but there was somewhere marked as a safe place. Somewhere that wasn’t Bruce’s but that was listed as Bat equipped. He headed there with desperation clawing at his throat, pain drilling at the back of his eyelids.

But he didn’t find what he was expecting. Instead, there was you and a mundane house. Somewhere that looked lived in, rather than a closet stuffed with expensive tech and medical equipment.

He realized too late, that the information was outdated, that he was going to die from a mistake.

Except he didn’t. Except you were there.

And he wants to figure it out, what kind of sane person could possibly do what you had done? He wants to figure you out.

“She isn’t shady,” Barbara supplies unhelpfully. She starts looking over your school records, your extracurriculars, you studied at the same school he did, nothing out of the ordinary; A book club, perfectly good grades, no problems with teachers or classmates. There’s an internship registered under your name at one of Gotham’s local newspapers, and there, a few articles on topics like battok trends or the latest celebrity scandal. The few lines he skims read uninspired.

The only thing Tim finds unusual is paperwork from the year before, for a cat you had adopted.

“I didn’t see any pets.” At least not when he was there. His allergies would have started making him sneeze like a madman otherwise. But what could he possibly get from that?

You’re perfectly ordinary, so ordinary Tim can’t possibly figure out why you’d be living full-time in a Batman safehouse.

And it’s driving him crazy.

Barbara hums, saying your name, and then, she says your second surname, your mother’s maiden name, “Thompkins?”

“Thought it was common,” Tim shrugs because he hadn’t taken notice of the detail during his first research. Barbara sends him a pointed look.

“Who was the safehouse registered under?” It’s a simple question, Tim realizes his slip-up on the next beat.

“Is she related to Leslie Thompkins?”

“Grandniece looks more like,” Barbara supplies, pulling up your mother’s birth certificate. She digs up an old picture, a younger Leslie posing next to a smiling blonde woman, who holding up a med school diploma. Seems like your mother followed in her footsteps.

“The warehouse is registered under her name,” Barbara supplies, pulling up a scan of the apartment’s deed. Leslie Thompkins is clearly written as the owner. It must have been a safehouse for her, and subsequently for Batman, a long time ago. All before you took over. “You satisfied now?”

Tim says nothing at that, gnawing at his lip.

From the screen, your picture stares back.

…

“It was freaking scary.” You complain over your instant noodles. But they’re too hot and they scald, making you hiss. Your friend stares at you from across the table.

”Right.”

None of your high school peers stuck with you after graduation, so your list of friends remains painfully empty. And it would be a name shorter, had Claudia not appeared into your life.

You met during your internship, where she was interning too, at the literature department of the magazine. You’re both close in age and enjoy reading classics, so you spend lunch breaks together and bond over trash-talking your coworkers. She’s one of the few people you talk to in an otherwise silent existence. And she’s quite funny, too.

”It feels like one of those trashy romance novels, right?” She gestures openly, a sandwich in her hand. You’ve been telling her about your encounter with Red Robin for a lack of anything else. It’s the only interesting thing that’s happened to you in a while. “‘The superhero crashed at my place! And oh no, he’s naked!’.”

You snort, slapping her arm, “he was not naked! And it wasn’t romantic at all! I was so scared I’d throw up all over him from the stress!”

She chokes on a piece of ham, then starts to laugh. You start laughing too.

It’s a relief having Claudia to make it all sound less scary.

Her laughing stops when her phone beeps and she pulls it out. Meanwhile, you choose to entertain yourself with your food.

”Is it that twitter account?” You ask half curiously. She hums in response, not looking up from the screen.

”Seems like bird boy hasn’t been seen in a while,” Claudia scrolls down her feed as she talks, quickly liking posts or replying to comments. She runs a popular fan account in her spare time that revolves around Gotham vigilantes, which is not a niche topic. Most of the accounts themed around the bats, much like Claudia herself, are not native to Gotham. Rather, they’re from Metropolis or San Francisco, where the public regularly sees Superman or the Titans. Gothamites don’t have that kind of relationship with their heroes. “Red Robin’s been out of the streets since last Friday.”

”I guess that means you’re not lying,” she says teasing, which makes you blow a raspberry, “how did you do it, though? I would have messed up so bad.”

”Eh,” you start halfheartedly, “I took pre-med classes all through high school. I’ve forgotten most of it, though, but what little I knew came in handy,” you shrug, leaning back against your chair, “he had some pretty useful stuff, too. Super fancy equipment. That definitely helped.”

“Anyone else would have tried seeing under his mask, and you’re telling me what stuck out to you was his equipment?” Claudia laughs. “Maybe your next article will be about the bats’ tools. Does Batman carry around bat-bandaids? What about bat-snacks?”

You choke on your food, pushing down a laugh. It would be better than the stuff you’ve been writing about for these past few months, anyway. There are only so many influencers you can interview without going crazy.

“He was your favorite, you said, no?” Claudia catches on and continues, “I’d be just like you if Nightwing crashed into my apartment too.”

You’re about to retaliate, because-

Because what happened was not without meaning. You had realized he was more than an ephemeral figure or a distant idol, something as tangible as you, and that had made you stop fearing, for better or for worse.

But your boss peeks his head around the corner and takes sight of you both. “Your break is over,” he says and stands in the doorway as he watches you tidy up and throw empty containers and coffee cups into the bin.

Just as you’re leaving you catch something by the corner of your eye. On the TV is a fuzzy image of something humanoid, vaguely red and black.

Wherever you go, the shadow of Red Robin follows.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake #batman #red robin x reader #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #dc comics imagine #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #batfam x you #tim drake x you #red robin x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you #batfam x y/n #tim drake one shot

226 notes · View notes

delusionsofgrandeur13 · 3 months ago

Text

CASUAL

…your friends call you a loser.

chapter one

NSFW. MINORS DNI.

tim drake x reader

series inspired by Casual by Chappell Roan

readers can expect: fem reader x tim drake. not explicit consent but both parties are willing participants. mention of panty stealing. penetrative sex, prone bone/doggy style. reader on birth control, tim finishes inside. hair pulling. mean-spirited dirty talk. marking kink if you squint. use of 'sweetheart.' no mention of reader finishing. tim is kind of an asshole. don't say i didn't warn you.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

you laugh at his joke, probably louder than you should’ve.

you feel lydia’s eyes on you as you raise the red cup you’re holding up to your lips.

you curse yourself silently. what were you even doing at yet another one of these dumb parties??

sure, it wasn’t being thrown by the snobbiest frat on campus, but it is at one of their family homes. you didn’t even know neighborhoods like this existed in gotham. the houses were ridiculously huge.

lydia was dating her guy now, making her a semi permanent fixture. she had him now, and didn’t really need you for emotional support.

so again, what the hell are you doing here?

the fabric of your dress is tight against your chest, and you squirm. you think your left nipple is starting to chafe. lydia looks at you expectantly.

“what?” you blink at her over the rim of your red cup, blink out of your train of thought.

“i asked if you’ve been seeing anyone lately.” your friend settles back into her boyfriend, leaning on him with his arm slung over her shoulders. her boyfriend, josh, is a calm drunk, bobbing his head to the beat of the music and staring off into the distance.

“it feels like this is the only place i’ll see him.” you mumble under your breath, waving a hand at lydia’s confused expression. “no, i’m not really seeing anyone right now.”

“well look around! you’re surrounded by future sugar daddies. take your pick.” she gestures, pointing at one guy across the room, raising her eyebrow. “him?”

you shake your head, curling a lip. “definitely not.”

“bummer.” lydia sighs.

“besides, don’t sugar daddies look for younger women? the guys here are all my age, so it’s pointle-” a hand slides around your hip, and your voice trails off. lydia’s eyes widen when she realizes who’s attached to the hand, the one curving around your lower waist to the front of your body.

an almost entirely inappropriate hand placement.

your heart thumps hard in your chest. maybe you’d question who it was if you couldn’t smell the soap his dry cleaner uses.

you can feel the warmth of his hip pressed into yours as he sidles up next to you. josh practically snaps to attention when he sees that his frat president has his hand around your waist.

“tim!” josh reaches his hand out to greet him. “didn’t even know you were here!”

tim takes his hand, the one not radiating heat into your hipbone, and shakes josh’s.

“that’s how i like it.” he punctuates his sentence with a squeeze of your waist, and it takes every ounce of composure you have to not react.

lydia’s gaze keeps dragging between tim’s hand placement, your face, and tim, just over, and over, and over again. you chew on the inside of your lip.

you know how it looks.

“so you’re ‘not seeing anybody?’ well i can see the frat president with his hands on you!!”

tim and josh finish a conversation about some frat-related event coming up, one that you were not paying attention to. while they were talking it felt like every nerve in your body had rewired itself to where his hand was sitting on your hip.

josh steers lydia away, over to the kitchen, full of stainless steel appliances and an island covered in bottles.

you can feel her keep glancing back at you, but you can’t meet her eyes.

you can’t.

you catch a snippet of the sentence she whispers into her boyfriend’s ear. “..such a loser.”

your palms start sweating. she throws you another look before josh pulls her back around, kissing her forehead.

tim nudges you towards him, and you look at him. except you’re about eye level with his chest. his shirt is a deep blue, almost black. it’s starting to become your favorite color. his dark jeans sit low, covering the top of his shoes.

he chuckles under his breath, and sticks a finger under your chin, pulling your face up so you can look at his. he looks down at you through half-lids, his blue eyes sharp and gleaming. your heart pounds in your ears, in between your legs.

he doesn’t ask you anything, doesn’t need to, but you’re nodding anyways. he smiles that cheshire cat smile at you, and a chill runs up your spine.

he grabs your hand and pulls you along with him, over to the grand staircase.

eric, drunk as ever, nods approvingly at tim. he pats tim’s shoulder as the two of you walk past. the guy next to eric whoops, laughing. his eyes run up and down your body. you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. instead, you plaster a smile on and wink, hurrying after tim.

the two of you make it up the wood paneled staircase, the walls of the hallway covered in pristine family photos. you shudder at the pictured family’s matching stares and smiles. tim squeezes your hand, coming up to a set of double doors. he flashes you a smile, and your heart melts a little.

tim lets go of your hand to open the double doors, revealing a huge room, and a four poster bed, draped with fabric, centered in the middle.

his eyes are full of that hard glint, a look you’ve become all too familiar with. he shuts the doors behind you, locking them.

walking over to the bed, he sits on the edge of it, looking you over with his head tilted to the side.

“wait, drake, is this the master bedroom?” you ask, turning around to see the whole room. there’s even an en suite bathroom.

rich, rich, rich.

“yeah.” tim reclines farther back onto the bed, leaning on his elbows.

you say nothing, awkwardly shuffling your feet.

“..and?” tim prompts you. he raises a hand to bat at the fabric overhead, catlike as ever.

“isn’t that like, a little disrespectful?” you run a hand through your hair, nervous.

tim raises an eyebrow at you, and flops back onto the bed. his arms are behind his head, making his biceps bulge. a strand of hair falls into his eyes. your heart ba-bumps in your chest. his angular eyebrows scrunch together. he looks actually, genuinely confused.

“to who?” he scoffs. “they should be so lucky.”

at that, you bite your tongue. (with great difficulty.)

you choose to look him up and down instead, noting his smug smile. the hardness of his eyes. it feels like you're under a spotlight, the front row full of critics. heat creeps up your neck.

"is it hot in here?" you lift your hair into a makeshift ponytail, noting the way tim sits up. his eyes tracking your movements, the way your fist curls around your hair, lifting the sweaty strands off of your neck.

"so take your clothes off. might cool you down a bit." he smirks, the hardness back in his eyes.

"real original, drake." you shoot back.

he shrugs, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes.

"you'd heat right back up, though. so i can't say it's the best long term solution."

he unlaces a shoe, kicking it off, its twin following in quick succession. he looks at you pointedly, an eyebrow raised. you realize you’re as still as a statue, and staring, so you also begin to undress, toeing off your shoes and leaving them up against the end of the bed. it’s almost comical, your shoes, neat and upright, next to his, haphazardly thrown about, one on its side and the other just fully upside down.

his shirt is next, tim easily pulling it up over his head and tossing it to one side of the room. his abs ripple as he leans back, the stretch revealing a sharp v-line poking out of his boxers.

preening under your gaze, he leers right back, his lips curled up as he flexes his biceps.

“like what you see?” he huffs out a laugh at your sheepish expression.

you shake your head, silent as you turn away from him. his fingers quickly find the zipper of your dress, and soon that hits the floor too.

the expensive denim of his jeans scrapes your inner thigh as he ruts against you. a line of hickeys trace the curve of your neck. his mouth on you felt like heaven, warm and wet as he made his way from your jawline to your collarbone.

proof of his open-mouthed kisses, dark red and glaringly obvious.

a problem for future you. morning you. rational you, who will not enjoy the struggle of covering them up.

tim snaps the band of your underwear.

you’re brought back into the moment, lifting your hips off of the bed as he slides them down your legs. he tucks them into his jean pocket, giving you a look that almost dares you to protest. you don’t. they join the growing list of your things tim’s taken. a hair tie, a necklace, two other pairs of underwear.

his lips are on you again, rough and passionate. you moan into his mouth from the feeling of his denim-clad bulge hitting your bare clit. tim wears a smug smile on his lips as he kisses you next, and you hook your legs around his hips in retaliation. your hands run up and down the smooth expanse of his back, the light scratch of your nails making him shiver.

“control, right?” tim says, his eyes hungry as you unbutton his jeans.

“..what?” you shake your head, confused.

“you’re on birth control, right?”

you internally roll your eyes. it makes sense that he’d be so thorough, being an heir, and famous, or whatever, but he asks you every single time. like your answer was gonna change any time soon.

“yes, timothy.” you draw out your words, feeling petulant.

he raises an eyebrow at this, tugging on a strand of your hair.

“uh-huh.”

his hips snap into the soft flesh of your ass again, sending a spark of pleasure up your spine. you’re facedown on the bed, tim holding himself up over you, your hips raised up just enough for him to thrust into you. one of his hands curls into your hair, yanking at it.

“tim, i-”

his pace picks up, unrelenting.

“what was that, sweetheart? have something to say?”

you moan in reply as he holds the rhythm he’s established, his fingers gripping at your hair, pulling.

“you usually have so much to say, y/n.” you can hear the smirk in his voice.

his taunting dies down as he gets closer, one hand gripping your ass so hard it’ll probably leave bruises. the other uses your hair to pull you closer to him, giving you a messy kiss. he sucks in a breath just to let it back out through gritted teeth, groaning deep in his throat. he puts you against the bed again, the hand that was in your hair now pressing down on your lower back. his last few thrusts are sloppy, quick, and you’re clenching around his cock at the speed, your hands clutching at the sheets.

“mm, fuck, that feels so good,” tim finishes with a low moan, warmth filling your insides in someone else’s four poster bed.

the praise makes something in your chest start fluttering around, and you turn over to look at him once he’s pulled out. he's sat up, on his knees. his thigh muscles are on display, sending more flurries of desire through your body. the veins in his hands are in hard relief as he fists his cock, milking out every last drop. his cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess, a few raven locks sticking to his forehead.

he's dressed before you know it, tossing your dress up on the bed for you absentmindedly. tim looks over at you, and he's back over you in a flash. he gives you one last quick kiss, pinching your nipple.

"i'll text you."

with that, he's gone. it'd be like he was never here if there weren't hickeys covering your neck and his cum wasn't between your legs.

you dress quickly, tottering over to the bathroom. you look in the mirror, assessing. you use your hands to tame your hair back down. your eye makeup is smudged. and you don't have your underwear. you better get home quick if you don't want his cum dripping down your legs at this frat party.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

tim drake wayne's fan club:

(and THE most patient people on earth. i love you. thanks for waiting.)

(taglist:)

@dfgcbgdc @benditlikegumby93 @agent-nobody-knows @jaybunsblog @astermos-74 @ravenna-reid @borutoistrash1-blog @slut4animedilfs @nuggget-consumer-9000 @turtleturtleturtleturtleneck @hellishattempt @trashhighwaybird @sergeant-angels-trashcan @lilithskywalker @timdrakeisasugardaddy

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

154 notes · View notes

elizzsush · 4 months ago

Text

I love you Helplessly. | Tim Drake X Reader

Angst No comfort.

AU: None Rating: SFW

Note: This one if meant to hurt. I hope it does but if it feels devoid of something please tell me. I tried to make it, so you'd be teary eyed at the end, and I am sorry if I didn't do that. I am not the best at writing this stuff, I'm an avid reader of angst but writer? Well, I can try. __________________________________

They say that when you're drowning there is a moment of peace.

When you wake up, you take a minute to adjust. Maybe it's like that? The peace... It might just be you adjusting to the water in your lunges? A moment of peace, when the light shines in through the curtains and you don't squint and shoo it away, but instead choose to bask in its warmth, its light.

Your drowning, basking. You think you can adjust to this light. Because he made you feel helpless. It felt amazing, like you didn't know what to do and he'd hold you so softly.

When he kissed you, it tasted like coffee. You didn't like the flavor before him.

Tim Drake was a perfect lover.

It felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself. But the best part? Well, that was when he held you.

His soft touch, holding your close. His palms felt like the sun, warm and oh so so comforting. You told him it was because he was always holding a hot cup of coffee, but you didn't think that was true either. Because even if he hadn't had coffee yet, his touch still felt like the world.

"I love you."

You said it first. You always did It first- You messed it all up. Because he didn't look at you after that. Instead, he froze, his eyes zeroing in on his laptop. "I'm sorry- I don't know-"

"No, its fine." Tim interrupted you. A conflicted look on his face. "No- Thank you for saying that. It means a lot to me"

You nodded as he kissed you, his bitter coffee taste weighted heavy on your tongue.

Were kisses meant to be this bitter?

No, that thought was just a distraction. A distraction from what your mind really didn't want to focus on. Why didn't he say it back...?

That thought kept you awake.

What you didn't know was Tim was thinking the same thing. He had been thinking about it. Within the last week there had been three times he wished he said he loved you.

It was the beginning of the week, and he was having a rough day. When he got back to his room, he found... you, a fresh mug of coffee and a pile of blankets all laid out- one even was hung up like a canopy above you.

You giggled and requested he join you in bed and he did, hugging you so tightly, he breathed in your scent and sighed stress leaving him like you repealed it.

When he was with you his brain stopped working. he didn't need to think- he only needed to be there and hold you.

He reasoned with himself, if he could kiss you like he loved you that made up for it. And he kissed you and touched you and- you were his world. He made it feel like you were and he was happy with that.

So why can't you get your mind off those three words?

Your insecurities ate at you as you began to cater to him just a bit more- hoping he'd say those words you longed needed to hear.

They say that when you're drowning there is a moment of peace.

You were drowning and sadly that moment of peace wasn't coming.

The rotting feeling inside your chest felt horrible as he yanked your head from out of the water. Your eyes burned from the tears. You voice broke and sobs wrecked your body, your chest heaving for air- because if you had air, you can plead correctly. "Please-" You couldn't catch your breath, "Please, no more, please no more- Tim- I-"

"Tsk Tsk Tsk." He shook his head with a pout. Pulling your head by its hair harshly so you'd see his waving finger. "No no no, that just won't do." He said before his laughter- that terrible sound.

A scream like none ever left your body. Your throat ached but you couldn't stop. The water muddied your tears as he shoved your face back into the all too hot water. Boiling... No one heard your screams. no one ever would. Not a single soul... accept... Him, the man doing this too you was the only one that could stop this, he was the only one to hear your screams. Muffled by the water.

He eventually left. The game ended and he left you in the corner, a ball as you laid there. Your lip quivering, eyes watering, that pain in your chest- the horrible pain you couldn't explain. Your body shook as you finally let yourself sob into the floor. Ugly, like a wet dog. You didn't know why you felt your heart break the way it did.

No one would ever find you.

Because you were dead to them.

It was your fault.

Maybe if you reached out more often, they would have realized something strange was at play with your death.

If you had been a better girlfriend Tim would have found, you by now.

Maybe if they- if he knew you better?

Why had you been such a failure? Maybe if you where more well-known people would look into it.

Why?

Why did you end up here?

Why was the only thing you could hear that maniacs laugh?

That horrible cracker, filled with nothing but joy as he watched you squirm on the floor pinning you down and yelling at you as you screamed. "Calm down! Calm down!" He'd shout over and over like it was a fun game and those were just fun words!

Your only retreat was the small corner of the room. "Mom." You'd sob over and over again. "Mom please- I- help momma please."

She was the only one you can beg too.

It didn't matter that she would never be able to help you.

Your eyes burned, why did crying do that? Your chest felt empty, like someone scrapped away everything in it, scratching and cutting the sides of your heart. Gripping it and gripping it till it would pop.

The burning in your throats hurt but the only thing you could do was sob and shout.

You shouted till your throat felt like your heart. Scratched, empty yet full at the same time.

"Momma... Tim..." You sobbed, the only two names you could. "Why?" was the only thing you could cry.

"Now now, Why so serious?"

The clown crackled and laughed, that was the last thing you heard before something began beating at your back.

You'd die helplessly. It was strange, the only time you felt helpless… it was with him.

So you only smiled as the light around you- what little was let in faded.

"I... love you...Tim.”

#tim drake x reader #dc imagine #dc x reader #batfam x reader #dc angst #Tim X reader #red robin x reader #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #tim drake angst #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x fem!reader #Angst #I Hope its good #batfam x y/n

142 notes · View notes

roses-r-rosie3 · 6 months ago

Text

Cool With You

Tim Drake x Parent!M!Reader

Warnings: angst subject, fluff, suggestive bi!reader, struggling!parent!reader, kinda long fic,

Summary: While on patrol, Tim comes across the reader who is being harassed by loan sharks in an alleyway. When Tim saves the reader, he notices a baby is in the reader’s arms and before he can ask any questions the reader walks off. Tim decides to track the reader down and talks to him at the park.

A/n 1: This post is inspired by @strangeshoepatrolbandit

A/n 2: this was originally supposed to be one long story but I decided to split this into separate parts so that you guys had something 😭

Quote: “So… uhh… rough day huh?”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was a dark and stormy night in Gotham and Tim was out on patrol as usual. There was surprisingly nothing really happening that night so Tim decided to call Alfred and just have a chat.

In the middle of their conversation, Tim heard some noises in an alleyway, so he decided to check it out. It could’ve been some rats digging the garbage can for some food, but something in Tim’s gut was telling him that it wasn’t. Lo and behold there were some guys in the alleyway surrounding someone and harassing them.

“Hey fellas, what are you up to?” Tim asked.

One of them immediately turned around and tried to attack Tim. The guy tried punching Tim, but quickly got knocked out. As soon as the first guy went down, the rest of them immediately went after him. One by one, Tim knocked all of them to the ground until it was only him and the person they were surrounding.

“T-thank you so much sir!” The guy said.

Tim took a moment to look at the guy’s face. He looked so handsome, so innocent. Were those people trying to mug the poor guy or something? But that’s when Tim noticed that the guy had a baby in his arms. Who’s baby was that? It couldn’t possibly be the guys, he looked far too young to even be a father.

“Is that a bab-”

“Sorry I have to go” the guy said quickly before walking off quickly.

Tim didn’t even have time to process what you said before you zoomed away. When Tim finally came to his senses, he tried to see if you were nearby, but you disappeared. That was really weird.

After that night, Tim couldn’t stop thinking about that guy. He was stuck in Tim’s head, so much so that Tim decided to do some research and try to crack who that guy was. After weeks and weeks of investigating, Tim finally found out who the guy was.

A guy named y/n l/n. A former college student who dropped out due to unknown reasons. You used to be the top of your class, you would’ve even been valedictorian. But one day you just dropped out without an explanation.

Tim found out that you worked several part-time jobs to pay rent for your crappy apartment. He felt bad for you, from what he’s seen, you came from a wealthy background, you had good looks, good grades, good friends, and a good social status. But what happened? Why was that baby in your arms? What did those guys want from you?

Those are the questions that Tim wanted to find an answer to. He decided that he was going to follow you for a whole week, just to get an idea of your schedule so that he could “accidentally” bump into you.

He found out that you just worked the whole day, but the only time you weren’t working was to go home, and to go to the park to relax during your break. Bingo, he knew exactly what he was going to do. For the first time in a while, Tim actually made sure to get a good nights sleep beforehand. What were you doing to him?

It was the day that Tim was planning to “accidentally” bump into you. Tim was feeling really happy and giddy, was it because he finally got a good night’s rest or was it because he was excited to see you?

You usually walked into the park around 3:30pm so Tim just had to wait for you to sit on the bench where you usually sat. When you finally arrived you immediately sat down at your designated bench.

Tim felt a bit nervous at first, was he being too creepy? Should he have just let you be? But regardless, Tim took a deep breath before walking up to you.

“Hey can I sit here?” Tim asked.

“Yeah, of course” you smiled.

Tim sat down awkwardly and you both sat there in silence for a good five minutes before Tim spoke up.

“So… uhh… rough day huh?” Tim said.

“Don’t even get me started” you chuckled.

“Work problems?” Tim “guessed”.

“Yeah, I work all day. I barely have time to spend with my kid, he spends more time with my neighbors than he does with me” you joked.

“You have a kid?” Tim said.

“Yeah, I accidentally got a girl pregnant when I was at a party. We decided to keep it but she didn’t want to be a mom so she gave up her parental rights. I don’t blame her but it’s kinda hard you know?” You confessed.

Tim started putting the pieces together in his head slowly but surely. The reason why you dropped out was to take care of the baby.

“I-I’m sorry if I overshared” you apologized.

“No, no, you’re fine, how’s life like with the baby? Tim asked.

“It’s pretty hard, but I’ll always be grateful that I have him, I honestly don’t know what I would do” you chuckled.

“What’s his name?” Tim asked.

“Theo” you smiled, thinking about the image of your child.

“That’s a wonderful name” Tim complimented.

“Thanks” you said.

It went silent again and for some reason, Tim just felt attached to you. He wanted to get to know more about you, but not in a “I need more information about him” kind of way, more like a, “I want get to know more about him” kind of way.

“Hey uh, I can watch him for you if you want to” Tim suggested.

“It’s fine I don’t want to trouble you, and I’m pretty low on money right now, so I wouldn’t really have anything to pay you with” you replied.

“I can do it for free” Tim said.

“Really? Thank you so much, you have no idea how much that means” you exclaimed.

I know what you’re thinking, ‘why would you just trust some random stranger that you just met with your baby?’. Something in your gut was telling you to let him.

“My name is Tim by the way” Tim smiled.

“Y/n” you smiled back.

You pulled out your phone to check the time, and your break was almost over already!

“Shit, sorry but my break is almost over” you said.

“Can I get your phone number before you go?” Tim asked.

“Oh, yeah sorry about that” you said before typing in your number on Tim’s phone.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then” you smiled before waving bye to Tim.

Tim looked on as you slowly walked away. When you were finally out of his eyesight he started looking back on the conversations until he realized something….

HE OFFERED TO BABYSIT! Tim couldn’t even take care of himself properly! Let alone a baby! WHY?! WHY WOULD HE DO THIS TO HIMSELF!

Tim took some deep breaths before slowly calming down. Who knows maybe babysitting won’t be that hard. He spent the whole night looking up videos of how to change diapers and take care of a baby. All he could do now is pray that all we go well….

#male x male #mlm #malexmale #male reader #mxm #rosesrrosie3 #gay #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake x male reader #tim drake #red robin x y/n #red robin x male reader #red robin x you #red robin x reader #red robin #tim drake x y/n #tim Drake x parent!m!reader

198 notes · View notes

nosyrobin · 2 months ago

Text

Y/N: My ex is crazy, y'all. I've had him blocked on everything for weeks and yet he still manages to find ways to contact me.

Y/N: *turns camera to microwave* Bro this what i'm talking about look. He’s calling me on my microwave how was that even…. I didn't know microwaves could do- How is he doing that?

Y/N: That actually impressive you go girl.

978 notes · View notes

i-yap · 6 months ago

Text

Batboys x quiet! reader(who is not quiet in private)

( some of the reasons for the quietness is a bit traumatic so uhh warning)

Dick grayson -

opposites attract is possibly my favorite trope ever. And that is exactly what you guys are . Not exactly golden retriever x black cat though people who didn't know you guys well assumed such .

Dick would get exhausted spending forever being charming and charismatic for even the most extroverted of people get tired when they had to manage multiple superhero teams, a detective squad and the whole batfamily.

You were silence, peace serenity almost..until you weren't. Grayson was worried about this relationship in the start, after all you guys were really different. He was afraid you were going to be annoyed by his sunshine self, and that when he isn't feeling like talking, the conversations would go silent.

But you really are so different when comfortable with someone, and its tough not to trust and drop your shield with grayson.

It took him by surprise slowly seeing you open up and show your weird side. It somehow made him cherish it more and even want to show sides of him that only you got to see.

When he asked you why you weren't like this with everyone you said " My parents had a habit of talking over me, sometimes outrightly not hearing me speak at all. No matter how loud I spoke..i wondered if they couldn't hear me...if anyone even wanted to you" "why me then?" asked dick , "you're nothing like my parents, I know you care" and he does..he really does. He won't ever let you feel like that every again. He will make sure everything you want said is heard, and if not he will burn it into the skyline

Jason todd

he appreciated it, a quiet person in public. He hated being in public, he hated the buzz the noise the push the touch of humans around him. He felt strange

till he feels you hold his knowing you felt just as strange as him. Leave the gala and walk around the library , one earphone in each ear listening to whatever you wished to play.

Pulling you close in crowded areas- was it for you or for him? Glaring at anyone who dared tease you about your quietness. A single glare usually does the job but don't worry ...other ways exist too.

He loves that when you two are alone, you are a completely different person. It makes him feel special, like he is the only one who understands you. Because you're the only one who understands him.

When he asks " well I guess I never felt like people liked what came out of my mouth.. my humour too dark, my words too dumb and I didn't make sense. So I stopped trying" don't worry about being cringe..he understands you completely

Tim drake

he is intruiged. How do you pull such a perfect facade. How does one look so poised and collected with those rich assholes and so wild and untamed with him?

He could never really perfect the act the way you did. He's seen you grow up, but somehow its like you were born with two people living in your brain.

If you're this mysterious to your childhood lover, how does anyone in the world even think that they could know you, both versions of you.

Dont get me wrong, he loved it, A mystery he never could solve, not even with your help.

" Teach me your ways master" "I remember you wanting me to call you that last night..oh no wait it was si-" "shut upp" "fine ill tell you timmy boy, I just believe those rich stick up their ass puppets don't deserve to see all ..this.." "what about school kids, friends , teemates-" "I don't need anyone to get me as long as you do"

He will never get it, even if someone engraved it into his skin he wont understand everything about you , you'll always be the case he couldn't solve.

AND WE ARE BACK BICHES , send in requests and stuff, inbox open again blah blah I'm feeling much better now but I might push angst stuff more

750 notes · View notes

thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 15 days ago

Text

And I will call it home, this curse of ours (despite, despite, despite)

Day 7 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 8.2k

genre: horror, fluff kinda, hurt/comfort

warnings: vampire timmy, werewolf reader, reader gets shot and it's pretty bloody, lots of blood talk actually but in a vampire way, fade to black rooftop smut scene idk guys

a/n: pls god I hope everyone likes this one I fell asleep with my face on my desk writing it. but it's the classic !! I had to finish the event with the classic. ask me abt the jason todd cameo that I couldn't find a place to fit in

"Oh, god, not this again." You're walking down one of the endless streets of Gotham, your hood up and your shoulders hunched, when you hear someone sigh and groan while the person she's with goes on and on.

"No, I'm serious. There's something wrong with those Waynes -"

"You're just jealous because they're rich and they run the city. Come on -"

"No, I mean it," he insists, stopping to stand on the sidewalk and frown at his friend. You stop abruptly, too, nearly bumping into them from behind before you make a sharp turn to veer around them to keep walking. Thankfully, they don't pay you any real mind. "They're vampires - I know it. If you would just listen to me -"

"When are you going to stop believing in those ghost stories? They're not real," the woman is insisting, but you've trailed too far away by that point to hear the rest of her sentence.

The Waynes.

The biggest vampire coven on the coast. The only vampire coven left in Gotham.

And yes, they run the city, you think dryly as you continue to weave through winding, narrow streets and look up at the sliver of moon that just barely shines through the damp, foggy night. Yes, you think, they're unbeatable - and they've got the nasty, self-righteous responsibility of keeping this city in check.

A bat flies somewhere overhead and you flinch before huffing and shaking your head. Stupid, you think as you drag your feet. Stupid to move to a place that drove out your kind centuries ago. Stupid to come here knowing that it would carve a bloody target onto your back. Stupid to think that you could just keep your head down and stay hidden and let the rest of the world pass you by.

"That's impossible," Damian says indignantly, sniffing as he crosses his arms. His eyes glow in the dull glint of the Cave and a swarm of bats fly overhead.

"It's not," Dick huffs, frowning down at his brother. "People have been talking about it, I'm telling you."

"There are no werewolves in Gotham, Grayson," Damian snaps, stomping away. "Father's made sure of that." Dick looks to Bruce as Damian disappears in the shadows of the Cave, swept up by the darkness and the crushing echo, and Bruce just sighs thoughtfully.

"It's a war that we won centuries ago, Dick," Bruce says in a smooth, deep rumble. "The wolves were driven out of my city a very long time ago."

"I know," Dick snaps. "That's why it's - Don't you think it's strange? What people have been saying? Wolf prints in the forests by the manor, rumours of people seeing some kind of creature in the city at night, it's -"

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, Dick," Bruce says placatingly as he holds up his hand. "I'm only saying… if this is true… if wolves are back in Gotham, that means war is back on our doorstep. We need to tread carefully, that's all."

"Might be fun," Tim chirps, silently slipping into the conversation between the two of him, his fangs glinting as he grins. "I've always wanted to really see one."

"Don't be reckless, Tim," Dick groans. "They're dangerous. Don't go out and get yourself -"

"If there really is a wolf out there," Bruce continues, ploughing over Dick and Tim's squabble, "it'll do us no good to have people grow suspicious. This needs to be dealt with quietly. Those of us in the shadows… must remain in the shadows. You know this."

"Yea," Tim snaps his fingers and turns to Dick. "How's that, uh, situation with the gargoyle doing, hm? You dealt with that one yet?"

"I'm working on it," Dick snaps, crossing his arms and letting his fangs glint through the darkness.

"This coven is stronger than we ever have been before," Bruce continues, ignoring the feud in front of him. "There's no reason for this to get out of hand. However… we'd be fools to think this thing has really come here alone, and killing it quickly will only bring the rest of the pack. Tim," Bruce spins to face him and Tim straightens under the attention. "Find the creature - track it, find out what it's doing here."

"What - me?" Tim splutters. Bruce merely turns and begins to walk further into the Cave, leaving the two of them in shadow and the echo of his words.

"Of course," he says without looking back. "You wanted to see one up close, after all. Just watch its teeth."

Werewolves, fortunately, have a smell incredibly distinct from humans, so it doesn't take long for Tim to pick you out from the crowd. He's trailing after you as you wander down one of the many twisted streets of the city, keeping you in his sights as you move quickly with your head ducked low.

You're nervous, he realizes quickly - because he can hear it, the frantic beating of your heart and the blood pumping through you. Tim finds himself running his tongue over one of his fangs and tipping his head back for just a moment, letting himself take his eyes off of you for just a second. But then he refocuses and you're suddenly…

You're gone, disappeared from in front of him. Tim freezes, staring at the spot where you'd been before glancing around. Night rose hours ago and, at this ungodly hour, the streets are deserted. It had just been the two of you out here and now, he thinks as he listens to the sudden silence - now it's just him.

The silence stretches on. A street lamp somewhere flickers and a bat flies overhead.

The vicious, rumbling snarl that he hears from behind him isn't enough warning before the force of a wolf slamming him to the ground knocks the wind out of him. Even with his heightened reflexes, he wasn't fast enough to dodge before the two of you are tumbling across the empty road with snapping jaws and clawing hands.

You roll, the both of you, through the yellow, pooled light of a street lamp and into one of the dripping, dirty alleys of the city, and that's where Tim finally rights himself. He smooths his hands through his tousled hair as he hisses at you, baring his fangs as the creature in front of him snarls and snaps dripping, yellowed teeth back at him.

But you don't lunge again - not yet, at least. You circle him, keeping your pale, moonlit eyes focused on him as you growl and shake your fur out from the ordeal.

"You're the wolf," Tim blurts out, and you pause, faltering at the obviousness of it all. Tim crouches in front of you, cocking his head to the side with a curiosity that outweighs any fear that he should feel in this situation, and the action makes you stop completely and square yourself with him.

"I've always wanted to really see one of you," he murmurs, staring at you with sharp, red eyes. "Can you do that whenever you want? I'd always thought it was just… on the full moon." Tim reaches for you then, like he's entranced by whatever morbid curiosity he's wrapped up in, and the sight of it all makes your hackles rise as you bare your teeth.

It's when you finally lunge at him, aiming for his outstretched hand, that Tim snaps back to the present moment and jerks back, up and onto the safety of a fire escape and away from you. He leans over the railing and watches you circle him from below for just a moment before he tips his head back and stares at the blotchy, darkened sky.

"I think," he says slowly, beginning to tip his head back down, "that there's a lot more I'd like to learn about you before this is through." But by the time his eyes are trained on the ground again, you're… gone, disappeared into the blackened night again and leaving him alone.

The next time that Tim comes after you, he feels like he's learned. Dick had chastised him properly when he'd told his brother about his first wolf encounter. He'd reprimanded Tim for not realizing that werewolves are just as supernatural as the vamps - they're fast and deadly and a lot harder to catch than humans.

So, this time around, Tim feels that he's learned. He's trailing you from the rooftops, sticking to vampire domain and staying in the skies as he watches you wander down below, weaving through streets and alleyways.

But he finds himself… confused again. Because you're acting the way that you did on that first night - sharp and skittish and nervous, looking over your shoulder and keeping a hastened pace.

But it can't be because of him, Tim thinks. So what…what are you so afraid of?

Tim glances down to secure his footing for just a moment, but it's long enough for you to have disappeared a second time.

"Fuck," he spits, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Oh my god, Dick's gonna kill me -"

"You're sloppy." A voice makes him whirl around and it's you standing there, your breath heaving with the effort of climbing up onto the roof. Your hands are clenched at your sides and your feet are braced like you're ready for a fight, but Tim just cocks his head to the side and stares at you.

"How'd you do that without me noticing?" he asks. You grit your teeth,

"You're not the first vamp I've hunted. Doubt you'll be the last," you snap, but Tim just hums and nods and turns fully to face you.

"I'm not sloppy." He says it slowly, like he's unsure of the insult. You smile menacingly and something that feels a bit too much like fear crawls up Tim's spine.

"The Waynes have ruled unchallenged for too long," you continue. "You don't know how to hunt anymore. You're sloppy, careless - can't even corner a lone werewolf properly."

"Ah," Tim responds, his voice hardening. "So it's true. You are here for a fight."

"No," you shake your head. "It's just an observation. I'm here," you say clearly, stepping towards him and quirking a brow when he takes a step back, "to tell you to stay away from me. Leave me alone."

"And leave you to come after us? Yea, no chance," Tim scoffs and you just glare at him.

"I don't have anything to do with your family and I don't want anything to do with your family," you snap. "I'm just trying to get away from all that."

"…What?"

"There's no war in Gotham City anymore. That's…that's what everyone says," you say quietly, your voice tapering off. "I just…I'm just trying to get away from it. I just wanted to find somewhere where no one would follow me."

When you dart off the roof, then, heading to the edge and kicking your legs over the side to drop down into the abyss below, Tim finds himself too bewildered to stop you. Your words turn over and over in his mind and he finds that he can't quite grasp why someone would come here willingly. He can't quite understand why someone would flee to a place as cursed as this.

The game of cat and mouse that the two of you begin to play is a bit too much for Tim to want it to end, and he finds himself slinking off, away from the Cave and his prying family more and more often just to chase you down.

He's shocked, startled into frozen silence when he finds you one night hidden in the corner of a deep, dark alleyway. You're plastered against the rough brick wall, unmoving and holding your breath, and when you lock eyes with Tim he sees how wild you look - like an animal caught in a snare.

"What -" Tim begins, but you press a finger over your lips to shush him silently and you look at him desperately, your eyes wide and heart hammering against your ribcage. He slinks into the shadows next to you, keeping himself hidden as he watches you with furrowed brows and concern clouding his eyes. But he listens, nonetheless, straining to hear any sort of sound beyond the typical ruckus of the city.

He does hear something when he really listens, and it's enough to make Tim freeze, a cold sort of terror seeping into him. He can hear it, the bickering conversation of a group of men - and they're talking about you. They're asking where you went, following the trail of your footsteps and the sound of your howls. And Tim can hear it, the sound of a silver bullet clinking in the barrel of a gun. He can hear the grating clank of a wooden stake pressed into someone's palms.

Hunters.

There are werewolf hunters in Gotham… and they're here for you.

Tim stares at you, at the way your eyes squeeze shut in panic and you gasp in a shuddering breath. He stares and something burns in him.

There have been no hunters in Gotham for centuries. The Waynes have been too powerful for too long for anyone to try to go up against them, especially humans with pitchforks and burning torches.

But now… one lone werewolf is enough to bring all of that crashing down. One small person is enough to drag that fear back into their lives, even if it was against your own will.

Tim grabs you by the collar of your shirt, tugging you toward a fire escape. When you resist, when you dig your heels in and shake your head, he hisses and bares his fangs.

"Would you rather I hand you over to them?" he snaps. "It's me or them. Choose." There's a sort of betrayal that flashes through your eyes, then, but you knock his hand off of your collar and begin climbing up to the roof, anyway, trusting him to follow after you.

The night sky, when you make it to the top, is as shrouded and dark as ever, the moon large and looming past the fog that bears down onto you. You stand with your back to Tim, your fists clenched as you take deep breaths and stare out toward the narrow, twisted city.

"You've endangered us all," Tim spits, and your fists clench tighter.

"I'm sure you can handle it."

"No, that's not the point," he snaps as he reaches for you, grabbing you by the shoulder to make you spin and face him. "Why are they after you?"

"Because I'm a werewolf," you say dully. Tim grabs onto the collar of your shirt again and shakes you just a bit.

"Don't be stupid. You have to tell me what's going on or - or… just - please. Tell me," he trails off at the end, keeping you close to him with his fingers bunched into the fabric of your shirt. You put your hands on top of his, your warm palms meeting his ice-cold skin, and when Tim glances down he startles.

He'd never seen you in just a t-shirt before, he realizes, and he sees it now - long, jagged scars on your arms. He knows what they're from - he recognizes them from what he's learned. They're scars from werewolf fights, deep gouges from claws and teeth marring your skin.

"How," he falters. "What - you…"

"You're not supposed to leave your pack," you respond quietly, letting your hands rest atop his as he keeps his grip on your shirt tight. "It's… it's a crime, in a way. You're not supposed to run away."

"Why did you…" Tim looks up at you desperately, something akin to anguish flashing through his cold, red eyes, and a frown tugs on your lips as you try to understand why he's so upset by it all. "What…what happened? You have to tell me what happened."

"Well, I -" you shift on your feet. "I left, Tim. I - there's a war going on out there. My kind and - and yours - we're slaughtering each other. I… I left. I ran away from it. I ran away." Tim lets go of you, then, stumbling back and running his hands through his hair while you continue. "The… the rest of the world isn't like Gotham, Tim. Not all of us have the protection that you do."

"Why Gotham?" he asks abruptly, snapping his head back up to stare at you. "Why come here? You're not safe here."

"I'm not safe anywhere," you point out, but then you sigh and walk to the edge of the roof to sit with your feet swinging over the edge. The frigid winds of autumn are beginning to waft through the city, but the blood that pumps through you keeps you burning always and Tim, as he sits next to you slowly, finds himself unaffected by the cold against his frozen skin.

"There was a time," you continue to explain, "before the bats took over Gotham, when it was still lawless and… and wild. There was a time when my kind was still welcome here. It was… it was centuries, I know, but… I don't - I don't know. In a way, I guess, it's… it's just like coming home." You laugh then, a bit hysterically, at the trap of it all. Through generations and generations, the city has tugged you and pulled you harder and harder and harder until you couldn't help but stumble here. You couldn't help but try to begin to build a home here.

"I…" Tim begins slowly, like the words are being tugged from him against his will. "I know what it's like to be… lonely. I - I know what it's like to feel like you don't belong somewhere."

"Is that so?" you sigh, tipping your head back as a patch of clouds part and the light of the moon shines down onto you.

"I do," he insists rather earnestly. "I… I felt like that. When - when I was human." That makes you pause, makes you tip your head back down, abandoning the light of the moon to look at him, instead.

"You're not… upset about being bitten, then?"

"No, I -" Tim laughs. "I wanted it. I begged Bruce for it."

"Who would ever want such a thing?" you murmur, but there's no real accusation in your voice as you watch him. Tim just shrugs, clenching his hands in his lap.

"It's like I said, I… I was lonely. I didn't - I wasn't anybody or anything. I - I just… I just wanted to belong somewhere. That's all."

"Ah," is all you say in response, tipping your head back again to face the sky. But you're just a moment too late, this time, and the clouds have already swarmed to cover the moon again, leaving the two of you in heavy, damp darkness once more.

Tim, meanwhile, stares down toward the ground, letting his eyes trace over the maze of streets that form the city that he's grown to love. It sort of burns when he remembers it, what it was like to be alone and lost and desperate for a soft place to land - desperate for a place to call home.

"I don't get you," he says suddenly, his voice heavy as it cuts through the night.

"Hm?"

"You gave that up. You had that and you gave it up."

"Tim, I -" you sigh. "No… it wasn't like that. It wasn't that simple."

"Then explain it to me," Tim says quickly, as he turns to face you, propping a leg up on the ledge of the roof so that his knee presses against your hip and you can feel the coolness of his skin seeping into you through your clothes. "Make me understand."

"Why?"

"Because, I -" Tim trails off, staring at you like he's just realized the truth, himself. "Because, I… I want to understand you. I want to know you."

"I… did have those things," you sigh, reeling from Tim's confession and bulldozing on so as to not think about it. "I had a pack and a family and a… a purpose, I suppose. And I did - I gave that up. But it's not…it's not our war, Tim. It's not mine."

"Of course it is," he says immediately, but you sigh and place a hand on his knee, your thumb brushing against his inner thigh.

"No, listen. We are puppets, Tim, fighting a war that doesn't belong to us. Do you know how it started? Do you know why we're sworn against each other?"

"Well…" Tim says slowly. "No, but… I - I just don't remember. But I'm sure it's… I'm sure…"

"You don't even know why you're fighting anymore, do you?" you say gently, and Tim feels a bit like all of the air has been punched out of him. "What do you really believe in? What do you really want to do with those teeth of yours?"

"Well, I don't," Tim begins, and the panic that he feels makes a defensive sort of venom drip from his fangs and pool in his mouth. "I don't want to live like you, shivering alone in an alleyway in a city that you don't belong in while you're - you're hunted like an animal."

"I am an animal, Tim," you smile gently, and a guilt begins to eat at him while his head spins. "We both are."

But he finds that he's not listening to you very well now, too busy spiralling and reeling and feeling the world tip around him as your words ring through his mind over and over and over.

Because you're right, he thinks. You're right because he's sitting here on a rooftop with you, his sworn enemy, and you're warm and kind and looking at him like you care about him. Your shoulder's brushing against his and the warmth of your palm is seeping into his thigh and all that he can think about is how lovely you look under the pale light of the moon.

"Maybe you have a point, though," you laugh, and it's a humourless, hollow sort of thing. "What's the point, really, if… if you're alone?" He wants to scream at you when you say that, wants to grab you by the collar and shake you and say that he gets it now, just a little bit. Because what's the point, really, of living, if you're living someone else's life?

But you're just sighing and closing your eyes and tipping your head back again and Tim finds that he can't speak. He finds that the words get caught in his throat on the way up.

"Curled up in a corner of the world and left with nothing other than survival," you murmur, your eyes still firmly shut. "God, what a life. What a… a lie. What a way to pretend."

"You're not pretending," Tim blurts out, and his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist and hold onto you, anchoring your palm to his thigh. "You're not because - because this is living, right? This is - you're doing it, aren't… aren't you? Isn't it - isn't this what it means to be alive?"

"Alive?" you say quietly, having opened your eyes to stare at him and watch his outburst unfold. "Do you… remember what it was like to be alive?"

Tim lets go of you like you've burned him when you say that. He winces, curling into himself as he feels like he's collapsing under the weight of it all. He can feel his own cold, pale skin and the press of his fangs poking against his bottom lip. He can hear the sound of your heart beating, the rush of your blood through your veins. He can… he can remember - almost, what it was like to have his own beating heart.

"I'm… sorry," you say quietly, looking away from him and making an effort to tug your hand away. "I shouldn't have… I don't mean it like that. I'm sorry." Tim watches as your hand leaves his thigh, as the warmth of your palm melts away and the cold sets in. Looking out toward the endless, looming city, Tim wonders if it was ever really worth it - being alive here.

"Well, maybe…" he begins slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe neither of us are really living. Maybe we - I don't know, maybe you always want what you don't have… or - or something."

"I guess," you laugh, and it's a hollow, lifeless sort of thing. "I guess I… I don't know, it's…" You pause, chewing on your lips as you weigh your words. Tim watches, letting his eyes flick over your lips.

"Lonely?" he offers quietly. You turn to look at him again, shifting so that your sides press together a bit more.

"I'm… I'm not lonely right now," you say quietly, your voice so soft that he's sure he would've missed it in another life where he hadn't turned into this thing. "Are… are you? Lonely, I mean. Right now?" Tim looks at you carefully, weighing your words in his soul as he listens to the unsteady beat of your heart and feels the warmth rolling off of you in waves and splashing onto him.

"…No," he admits, and it feels like a confession of sin, like an unholy action… to find love in an enemy and peace in the middle of a war. "No, I… I'm not - I don't feel lonely right now."

"It doesn't really make sense, does it?" you muse quietly, and as you lean back onto your palms, he finds himself missing your warmth desperately. When he chases after it, following your movement with his own and leaning over you, you let him, a lazy sort of grin slipping across your face.

"What doesn't?" he murmurs in response, although the more he leans into you, the more his mind hazes over and he finds it difficult to listen to reason.

"This," you offer. "This… feud. This war. Are we not just… the same? Are we not creatures of the night, both of us?"

"Creatures, sure," Tim says easily in response as he flashes his fangs at you. You just roll your eyes in response and he listens for the scared uptick of your heartbeat that just… never comes. It's a steady, even beat and he feels it drawing him in and in and in until he's leaning so close to you that your noses are almost touching.

"There are real enemies down there," you murmur, but your voice has grown sombre and your heartbeat has jumped in a way that makes him snarl, all fangs and flashing eyes. You reach to tangle a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and press your forehead against his. "Those hunters… they never stop, you know. They never slow, they never give up. They'll circle endlessly until they find me."

"I won't let them get to you," Tim says in a rush, his words jumbling together in his haste to promise himself to you. You smile ruefully, like you can't quite believe it and you're too tired to try.

"Why?" you challenge.

"Because you're mine."

"Your… enemy? Right…? Right, Tim?"

"Yes," Tim says haltingly, leaning closer to you. Your lips brush against his and a shiver wracks through him.

"I don't think so," you whisper. "I don't think there's any need for us to fight each other. I don't think there's any need for us to fight this…"

That's all it takes, really, to have him lunging for you. Tim's lips are ice cold against yours and the grip that he has on your hips is firm, anchoring you to him. It's only when you reach to tangle both of your hands into his hair that he moves, cushioning the back of your head with his hand as you fall backwards until your back is pressed against the rooftop and he's pressed against you.

"Are you… sure?" he asks tentatively, breaking the kiss to skim his lips down the column of your throat and let his fangs scrape against your skin. "Are you sure you want this? You - you want me?"

"Well, who else?" you quip. "Would you rather I let someone else do this to me?" That's enough to get another snarl from him before his lips are back on yours, taking and taking and taking.

"My love," Tim's voice wakes you slowly, his hand shaking your shoulder gently as you blink your eyes open.

"Hm?"

"The sun will be up soon… I have to go," he says, a bit sullenly. You huff and move to sit, rolling your shoulders out from the hard rooftop as he watches you. There are loving bruises from his lips and fangs littering your neck and collarbones and Tim smiles when he sees them, reaching forward to brush a thumb over some of them and delighting in your shiver.

"You should get out of here," you murmur, your voice thick with sleep still as you lean into his touch.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You…" Tim pauses, frowning at you as he glances around the rooftop. "Those hunters are still out there. You need to be careful. You need - you need to be protected."

"I can protect myself, Timmy," you assure him gently, standing and stretching out your back and shoulders. "I've been doing it for a long time."

"But you don't -" Tim shoots to his feet to look you in the eye while he speaks. "You don't have to - not anymore. I'll… I want to - I just want to look out for you."

"Look out for yourself first," you quip gently, eyeing the light just beginning to crest over the horizon. "You need to get inside. And besides…"

"What?" Tim cocks his head to the side. You shoot him a sympathetic look.

"I'm not sure it's me you should be worried about. What do you think he'll do? Bruce, I mean. What - do you think he'll be happy about this? About you spending the night with something like me?"

"He…" Tim falters. "He doesn't know. Of course, he doesn't know. I wouldn't - I wouldn't do that to you."

"I…" you sigh, stepping forward to press a kiss to the corner of Tim's frown. "I didn't mean it like that. I just need - I want you to be careful. You'll get yourself into trouble if he finds out."

"He won't," Tim assures confidently. "He… he won't."

Tim thinks, as the sun sets once again and he slinks out of the Cave, that he's probably a coward. He considers it as he makes his way out into the crisp, cool air of the night and chases after you - he thinks back to all of the lies that he's begun to tell Bruce.

Your words ring through his head over and over, claims that you have to stand on your own two feet and carve your own soul swarming around him as he thinks of how small he's gotten under the shadow of someone else's war.

He thinks that he has to talk to you about it, has to fall to his knees and ask for guidance, ask for a direction to throw himself into. He thinks -

He smells blood. He sees blood, splattered across the pale concrete of the sidewalk and dripping from a nearby street lamp. He smells it, sweet and thick and heady and… it's yours. He knows it, can taste it in the air. It's your blood… and there's lots of it.

It's a bit of a mad scramble, then, to chase after you. Tim’s senses, usually sharpened to perfection and designed to hunt, become fuzzy as waves of nauseating panic roll over him. He stumbles a bit, tumbling into an alleyway as he follows the scent and the sight of your blood smeared over the cracked, winding roads of this cursed, darkened city. He stumbles and he lurches and then… and then he comes face to face with you.

A great wolf, snarling and snapping and curled into the corner of a shady alleyway, pressed against the rough, brick wall as a silver bullet sits embedded in your shoulder. Tim sort of… freezes at the sight, at the blood oozing from the open wound and the way the smell of it hits the air, his tongue pricking and his fangs pressing against his lip.

"My -" he lurches toward you. "My love, I - holy shit." He falls to his knees before you, the jaws of a wolf snarling and exposed above his head as he stares at the bullet and the silver poison that seeps into you from it. He can hear it, the scattered, frantic beat of your heart - he can hear the wheezing of your lungs and the slowing of the blood pumping through you.

You're dying, and all he can do is fall to his knees in front of you like a prayer. All he can do is curl into himself and grip onto his hair like he's going mad.

"Aw, Timmy," your voice is quiet and shaky and Tim's head snaps up to look at you, now curled on the hard, cold ground in your human form, a pool of your own blood seeping into you. "You look awful."

"Speak for yourself," he snaps weakly, but he reaches for you all the same, dragging your trembling form into his arms as you sway and your eyes blink sluggishly. You wonder, somewhere distant and unimportant, if you're here because you really trust him enough to save you, or if you just… have no choice.

You wonder it as you see him pull his hand away from your shoulder to stare at the blood on it, at your blood, and when his pupils dilate and his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, you think that this must be a cruel, cruel way to die. Not by the hand of a hunter, but by the hand of your partner. Not by the hand of hate, but… but by the hand of love.

"I'm going to save you," Tim says, though, and the force that rings through you as his words knock the little bit of air that you have left from your chest. He grips your face with a bloody hand, forcing you to look at him and shaking you slightly when you try to let your eyes flutter closed. "I'm going to save you."

"I'm not sure you can, Timmy," you murmur, your voice heavy.

"Hey, no," he taps against your cheek to keep you awake. "You need to stay with me. You need to tell me - I need to know. Who did this? Who did this to you?"

"This isn't really the moment for vengeance, don't you think?" you offer in lieu of an answer. Tim groans and hunches over you, the smell and the sight and the near taste of your blood making his mind spin and his body sway with dizziness.

He gets a bit too close, he realizes, when his fangs are suddenly scraping against the exposed skin of your throat. It's intoxicating, he finds, the feel of it all. But -

But then he feels it, the weakening flutter of your pulse under his tongue, and it's enough to make his head spin for an entirely different reason.

"I'm going to save you," Tim repeats, and this time he's pulling you further into his arms as he stands, holding you securely against him. "I … I can't do this on my own, but - I'm… I know someone who can. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, right? I - I promised you, didn't I?"

"Sure," you say sleepily, your words a bit jumbled together as you cling to him. "But who really expects it, hm? A creature like you or me to keep a promise? Who really believes there's a life for things like us?"

"I do," he responds quickly, holding you closer. There's an earnest tilt to his voice that you've never heard before and you wonder, somewhere far, far away, if it's the first time that he's heard that from his own voice, as well. "I - I believe it," he continues. "I believe in a life for my- for you. I… I do. I believe in a life for myself."

"Well, isn't that nice," you murmur, and you mean it as much as you can right now. "I hope you get that, Timmy. I… I really do."

"We'll get it," he pleads with you, and there's a pain in him that feels new to you both. There's a love and a loss that feels so human, so alive that it's sort of… foreign. It's almost out of place coming from a dead thing like him.

It's sound that first greets you when the beginnings of consciousness begin to stir inside you. It's the sound of water dripping from stalactites, of a waterfall crashing somewhere and a rushing river flowing against rocks. It's the sound of bats chirping and squeaking as a thousand wings flutter and flap somewhere high up. It's the endless echo of it all spinning and spinning and spinning and -

And it's Tim, sitting next to you and picking at his nails nervously.

You can smell him, of course, with that animal nose of yours. Just like you can smell… the cave that you're in, wet and damp and dark, reeking of vampire. Vampires beyond just your nervous, stressed-out lover.

The realization makes you shoot fully awake as you rip your eyes open, struggling to sit up right away and wincing at the searing pain that rips through your shoulder. Tim makes a panicked, strangled sort of noise and reaches for you, shushing you gently and trying to coax you back into a relaxed, lying position.

"Tim," you say earnestly, and there's a panic in you - a fear in you that feels as if it's about to crawl up from your throat. "Tim, I'm -"

"It's ok," he says soothingly, smoothing a hand over your hair as he pulls you into his chest, trying desperately to get you to relax as agony blooms from your bullet wound. "Shh, shh, it's alright. You're safe, I promise."

"I'm in a vampire cave, Timmy, I can't - I'm - it's not -"

"It's ok," he says again, firmly this time as he clamps you against his chest, forcing you to stop your struggling and squirming. If you weren't so hurt, if your head wasn't spinning and your eyes weren't blurring, you'd be able to fight back. Especially now, when the full moon hangs overhead, miles above this endless, blackened, twisting cave that you find yourself lost in.

"Timmy," you all but whine, tired and trembling and curling into him as he holds you, shushing you and smoothing a hand over your hair and pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

"It's ok," he repeats. "It's alright. You're… you're safe here, I promise. Nothing's going to hurt you in here."

"You can't know that," you say quietly, pushing against him just a bit. He sighs and readjusts himself so that he can look down to you.

"I - I said I would save you, didn't I? I said I'd bring you to someone who could save you," Tim says earnestly, tightening his grip on you. You freeze at his words, staring up at him with wide eyes as the pieces of your ill-fated night come back to you in burning, painful flashes.

"Who… Tim. Tim, who - what happened? Who…"

"It was…" Tim shifts, looking away from you pointedly as he twists his fingers with yours nervously. "Bruce. It was Bruce."

"It was… Tim -" You laugh a bit hysterically, the sound echoing around the endless, looming cave. "Tim - no, it's… No. he didn't."

"He did," Tim insists. "He did. He… I don't know. I don't know why."

"Is he… is he here?" You shrink a bit as you say it, pressing against Tim's chest as he frowns and wraps his arms around you a bit tighter.

"No," he assures, shushing you again gently. "He's out - they all are."

"For what?"

"Well, see, there's a bit of a pest problem in Gotham," Tim drawls, a hint of mirth in his voice that makes you narrow your eyes. "Werewolf hunters. Nasty things, I'm sure you know. The rest of the family is just… doing a bit of clean up."

"You're -" You squirm out of Tim's grip just enough to sit up and he takes the opportunity to drag you into his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist as you smooth a hand over the hair on the nape of his neck. "Your family is out… to go after werewolf hunters?"

"Yes," Tim says plainly. You give him a withering sort of look.

"Bruce Wayne, King of the Vampires, saved the life of a werewolf and now he's out, running around under the full moon and tearing apart hunters?" you say dryly.

"Yes," Tim repeats. "It's his city, after all. It's his job."

"It's not," you say quickly, frowning as you tilt your head back to look at Tim, at his red eyes and pale, cold skin. "This is… this is something else. Timmy, you've - you've got to tell me what happened."

"Well - it's," Tim shifts where he sits, looking away a bit bashfully in a way that makes you follow his gaze with your own and narrow your eyes suspiciously. "I don't think he's ever seen me like that before," he continues quietly, a trembling sort of quality making his voice waver. "I've never… I've never begged him for something like that. I don't - I don't think I've ever cared enough about anything to beg like that. It - I don't know, I think maybe it scared him."

"It didn't scare you?" you say gently. The smile that Tim gives you is pained and frail.

"It terrified me so much that I swear to god my heart started to beat again for the first time," he whispers, curling against you so that he can press his face to your neck and feel your pulse against his tongue.

"Oh, my love," you offer gently, curling your fingers in his hair as you pull him closer. He laughs a bit wetly and pulls away from you just enough to look down at you again, smoothing his hands over your hips to pull you closer on his lap.

"But, you know, I…" Tim pauses as he cocks his head to the side and you watch as the thoughts roll through his mind. "I think, maybe, he… I don't know - maybe Bruce wanted me to, just a bit."

"What… what do you mean?" you ask, cautiously.

"Well, I - I don't think I'm a very good liar. I don't think there's much that really happens in this city that Bruce doesn't know about." Tim shrugs. You straighten as you stare at him.

"So you're saying he - what, he knew? The whole time?"

"I don't - I don't really know. I'll probably never know for sure. Bruce doesn't -" He cuts himself off with an echoing sort of laugh. "He doesn't really share. But - I don't know… I feel like I saw something in him when I showed up with you. I feel like he was almost… proud." Tim shifts in his seat and looks out to the endless darkness of the cave. "I feel like he was proud of me, maybe, for going out and starting to lie. For… I - I don't know, maybe he was proud when I went out and started to become something beyond a shadow of this place."

"Tim, I'm -" you start, your heart flipping in your chest at his confession, at the earnest waver in his voice.

"It's lucky, you know," he barrels on, like he can't stop all of it now that it's started, like he's split open his chest and cracked open his ribs and can't keep his unbeating heart contained anymore. "Bruce said that it's lucky, I mean. Because it's the full moon. It's - he said that if it was a different time in the cycle, if you hadn't been as strong, you wouldn't have…" He trails off, then, holding you tighter to his chest as he makes a choked, painful sort of sound somewhere in the back of his throat.

"But, I… I didn't" you offer gently, letting him hold you against him as tightly as he needs. "I didn't leave you. I wouldn't - I won't." Tim laughs a bit frantically, burying his face into your neck.

"What an odd thing," he murmurs, his voice muffled, "to belong in such a place."

"Yes," you agree, "but what a place to belong. What a place to call home."

"I don't think you should be here," you quip without looking back, and you hear a sigh in response before Tim breaks out into a jog to catch up to you where you're strolling down one of the endless, darkened sidewalks of Gotham. "It's too late - early. You don't have much time until the sun comes up."

"Was I close this time?" he asks rather sullenly. You pretend to think about it for a moment.

"I only caught you, hm… three blocks ago? Not bad," you shrug. He groans and reaches to tug you to him, holding you against his chest so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate skin there with his fangs.

"I don't think you should be out right now," he murmurs gently and you sigh, patting him on the head.

"The new moon happens every month, Timmy," you placate softly. "I'll be ok."

"You're not at your strongest right now," he says in defence and you can't help but shrink a bit under his piercing, red gaze when he pulls his head back up to stare down at you. You don't look well, you know, the effects of being so far from the full moon wearing on you as the dark circles under your eyes grow and your hands tremble.

"It's only temporary," you offer soothingly, pulling him against you to let him wrap an arm around your shoulder as you continue walking down the cracked sidewalk. "It will pass. It always does." And it's true, you think as you step one foot in front of the other. It will pass, it will pass, it will pass. It always does.

And it's made easier, of course, by the sturdy weight by your side and the arm that holds you so steady. It's made easier, somehow, by the fluttering of a bat's wings overhead and the looming, watchful gaze of a Vampire King.

"Temporary," Tim huffs, grumbling under his breath. You reach for his hand so that you can tangle your warm fingers with his cold ones and press kisses to his knuckles.

"But you're here, right? Hm? What could possibly happen to me?" you ask teasingly.

"Nothing," Tim answers seriously, and you smile gently as you squeeze his fingers with your own. "Nothing. I'm here - always."

"Well, isn't that nice," you say, and you mean it. How nice, you think, to have something constant- something permanent, even as the world shifts and changes around you. How safe to have something so sturdy to fall back on.

"I don't mind it, really," you continue as you tip your head back and look up at the empty, blackened sky. "It's just a part of it, you know. It comes… and it goes."

"Like… like all things, I suppose," Tim admits a bit stiffly. You offer him a loving smile.

"Like most things," you correct. "Not… not you. Not us."

"Never us," he responds quickly, his arm around you tightening as a cold breeze blows through and you shiver slightly. "Never us. I - I… I love you. And that's - I mean… that's as constant as anything can be."

And how odd, you think as you stop abruptly so that you can pull him in by his collar and kiss him, to find safety in the arms of a vampire. How strange to have the heart of your enemy pressed against yours and to feel it come back to life just so that it can beat in time with yours.

How right it all feels… despite, despite, despite.

Because it's one thing, you suppose, to trust him when you're at your strongest. But it's another thing entirely, you think, to trust him at your weakest, to place your glittering heart into his undead hands and watch him hold it with tender care.

How interesting, you think, to build a home in this of all things. But it is home, you consider as he presses his cold lips against yours and holds you ever so gently against a darkened alley wall. And the home that you build is found where you least expect it sometimes.

Home is the open blue sky and the full moon hanging in it. Home is deciding where you belong and carving a space for yourself into the night. Home is the crisp, cold air of a cursed, tangled city that never sleeps and never really dies.

#smsn.writes #smsn.events #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake fluff #tim drake smut #tim drake imagine #tim drake fic #tim drake fanfiction #red robin #red robin x reader #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #red robin imagine #red robin fanfic #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne

73 notes · View notes

shortnsweetsposts · 23 days ago

Text

Tim: You have to promise not to freak out!

Bat!reader: Okay...? What is it?

Tim: Do you... like me?

Bat!reader: What do you mean do I like you?

Tim: Like you know, do you have a crush on me?

Bat!reader: Love.

Tim: Uhum.

Bat!reader: We've been dating FOR 2 YEARS!?!!

348 notes · View notes

kimberly-spirits13 · 10 months ago

Text

Tired Timmy

Pairing: Tim Drake x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Fluff- When you return from a mission, you realize how tired Tim is and get him to sleep.

Word Count: 1598

PS: I IMPLORE THE BATFAM WRITERS TO MAKE MORE TIMMY CONTENT

“How’s it going Timmy?” You asked in the comms, watching the surveillance cameras from around the city.

“mmm” he grumbled in response

“That good huh?” You started snickering at his response, “Only thirty more minutes and then you can come crash.”

“Good to know.” He said as you watched him haphazardly swing from one building to another, “any leads on the Riddler case?”

“I’ll be fine.” Tim said, “We’ll talk about it when I get back.”

“Dick, make sure that Tim doesn’t throw himself off a building or something.” You said on a private link.

“I’m always on it, Y/N/N.” He replied in a chipper tone, “You see it too?”

“Yeah,” you leaned back in your chair, watching as the boys ran through the city, “I’ll pick his brain on it when you guys get back. Just make sure he comes back in one piece.”

“Will do.”

“How’s the investigation going?” Bruce asked, raking through the papers as Damian picked up Alfred the cat from the chair arm rest.

“It’s moving along nicely. I think they’re going for the new diamond exhibit downtown. I don’t know why anyone exhibits anything valuable in this city anymore.”

Bruce gave a stiff chuckle before patting you on the back, “Good work, turn in for the night, you need rest.”

Bruce started walking off as Tim came up and leaned over the side rest.

“Hey babe.” He tipped your chin to give you a kiss.

“How was patrol?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“It was fine.” He said, pulling up a chair next to you.

“You seem exhausted.” “Timmy let’s go to bed. We need rest.”

“Looks aren’t always as they appear Y/N/N.” He mindlessly ran his fingers through your hair and stared at you, “What do you have on the case?”

You knew there was nothing you could do to get Tim to go to bed at this point. It was time for plan “Timber”. Talking fast, you told him everything you had. There was no repeating what you had said, and you started flipping through the papers as fast as possible without raising suspicion. You had the clocks set to look like a later time, making sure that Tim would think it was later than it was. It was obvious when the plan was working since you saw Tim’s unfocused eyes start wandering around the cave. When it got to this point, Tim would finally decide it was time to rest.

“Does that make sense?” You asked, thumbing over his fingers, “I’ve got the schematics of the-“

“Y/N/N, it makes sense but, uh, I’m not focusing anymore.”

�� “Do you wanna go to bed?” You asked, searching for any sign of resistance in his eyes, “Come on.”

You stood up and pulled him out of the chair, he leaned into you and let his weight rest against you.

“Sorry, you just got back from a mission, you must be sore.” He said, leaning off you.

“It’s okay Timmy, I’m alright.” You hugged him and led him upstairs, “Come on, I’ll get you to bed.”

“M’ not a baby, I can’t get there myself.” He mumbled into your shoulder before pausing, “That came out snappy.”

“You’re fine Tim. I know you’re tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“Hey um, you haven’t showered yet either have you?” He asked, crossing his arms with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“I showered after dinner Tim.” You said, raising a brow.

“Oh yea.” There was a silence in the room for a few seconds.

“But, if you insist, I can’t say no.” This made Tim chuckle a bit before you shut the door and he dropped the towel before he got into the shower himself.

You quickly undressed and opened the glass door, joining Tim in the hot stream of water. Tim leaned his head against your shoulder and sighed deeply.

“I’m tired.” He admitted, wrapping his arms around you, relishing in the heat of the water and the closeness of you.

“I gathered as much.” “You’ve been over working yourself recently. I told Dick to make sure you didn’t run yourself to death before I got back.”

“It’s not Dick’s fault.” He said, “I have my ways.”

“Oh, I know.” You laughed, making Tim laugh with you.

“I’m glad you’re back. I thought I’d kill someone for the past three weeks.”

“I’m glad to be back too. Also, glad you didn’t kill anyone, that would be unfortunate.” You started running shampooed hands through his hair, washing the dirt and grime down the drain.

“Got grazed by a blade during the mission.” “One of the assassins got the best of Cassie and I jumped in front of her.”

“It looks painful.” “I’ve been leaning on you this entire time, are you hurt anywhere else?” He spun you around and started looking for signs of other injuries.

“Besides a few bruises, I’m fine. You’re fine Timmy I’m not hurt.”

“This doesn’t look fine. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked

“I didn’t want to worry you, you’re exhausted.” The rest of the soap ran off the two of you and into the drain, “I didn’t want you stressing yourself out.”

“I’m sorry.” Tim said honestly, “You said to get rest but I totally didn’t.”

“Tim I’m not upset with you. I know it’s your job and you feel passionately about it, I’m just worried you don’t sleep, it’ll get you hurt on the field.”

“I know you’re right.”

“Come on, let’s get dress and go to bed. I don’t think I have a change of clothes in here.” You said grabbing two towels from the heated rack.

“I brought you some sweats.” Tim replied with a smirk.

“Oh, so you’re admitting that you planned this all along?” You laughed nudging him jokingly.

“Just the shower.”

“I’m tired.” He said softly.

“I know love.” You climbed next to him and reached over him to turn the lamp off.

“That’s a good view babe.” Tim said with a smirk in his voice before you leaned back onto your side.

“Glad you approve.”

“I’m exhausted. Can’t sleep without you” he said in a whisper.

“I know Timmy, but you can sleep now.”

#dc x reader #dc comics #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #tim drake x gender neutral reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x fem!reader #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #red robin x reader #red robin imagine #tim drake imagine #tim drake robin

336 notes · View notes

littlecub9666 · 7 months ago

Text

Tim: Are you hungry?

Y/N: Tim... It's 3AM.

Y/N: ...

Y/N: Yeah, I'm hungry.

#dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc characters #dc comics x y/n #dc universe #x reader #x y/n #tim drake x reader #tim drake #tim drake x y/n #otp prompts #imagine your otp #red robin x y/n #red robin x reader #red robin

256 notes · View notes

your-local-simp-writers · 20 days ago

Text

Swing of Fate

Word Count: 3225

Warnings: None

Tim Drake x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The usual hum of the school day fills the air, the familiar sounds of lockers clanging, laughter bubbling up in small groups, and teachers herding students toward their next classes. In science class, the overhead fluorescent lights buzz softly, casting a pale glow over everyone hunched over their notebooks. The scent of paper and faint hints of disinfectant linger as you sit at your desk, scribbling down the lecture notes from the board, focused and trying to stay in the rhythm of the lesson.

At your side, Tim Drake is a quiet presence, meticulously organizing his notes and materials. You can see the focus etched on his face, his gaze steady as he reviews the day’s experiment setup. Occasionally, though, you catch a shift in his expression, a glance in your direction that lingers just a second too long. His dark blue eyes seem to flicker with something unspoken, a mixture of curiosity and intensity that keeps you on edge.

As the teacher drones on, your curiosity grows, and finally, you glance up to catch Tim mid-stare. Your eyes meet, and he shifts awkwardly, his cheeks taking on a faint blush as he realizes he’s been caught. Tim clears his throat, trying to mask his embarrassment, and fumbles with his pen as if it had been the most interesting thing in the world all along.

A smirk tugs at your lips as you lean a little closer, keeping your voice low. "You know, if you're going to stare, you might as well say something,” you whisper, amusement lacing your tone.

Tim stammers, his voice barely audible over the murmurs of your classmates. "I—I wasn't staring. Just... thinking about the lab results from last week."

You chuckle softly, rolling your eyes. “Right. Lab results. That must be why you looked like you were daydreaming.”

Before he can fumble for another excuse, Mr. Hargrove, your teacher, clears his throat, looking pointedly in your direction. “Miss Y/L/N and Mr. Drake, I assume your conversation is about the chemical bonding experiment?” His voice cuts through the noise, and a hush falls as nearby classmates glance over curiously.

You glance at Tim, who nods hastily, trying to regain composure. "Yes, sir," he says, straightening up and sounding far more confident than he looks. “We were discussing covalent bonds and their formation.”

Mr. Hargrove gives him a skeptical look but eventually just rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath about “young love” as he turns back to the board. Tim exhales, relieved, and you shoot him a grateful smile, silently appreciative of his quick thinking. He’s awkward, sure, but there’s something endearing about his attempts to cover for both of you.

The rest of the period passes in comfortable silence, broken only by the faint chatter of classmates behind you and the occasional scratch of pens on paper. Tim keeps to himself, glancing up now and then to check on your progress as you continue your notes. Each shared glance feels like a private conversation, a secret exchange that makes you feel closer to him than words could express.

Finally, the bell rings, and a collective sigh of relief sweeps across the room. Students shuffle out of their seats, backpacks swinging and papers rustling as everyone heads for the hallway. Tim moves to gather your materials for you, and when his fingers brush against yours, a small jolt of warmth runs through you. You look up, and he holds your gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

As you walk out, the hallway is a cacophony of voices and laughter, students calling out to each other about the weekend or the latest gossip. You’re still talking about the experiment as you stroll toward Tim’s locker, weaving through the crowd, when a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jamie, one of your friends from English class, grins at you from a few lockers down, her eyes flashing with mischief. “So, are you bringing Tim to the pep rally tomorrow, or are you finally going to ditch your lab partner and join us?”

Tim looks like a deer caught in headlights at the mention of the rally, visibly unsure about diving into that part of high school life. You can’t help but laugh at his expression, nudging him gently. “Oh, he’s coming. Right, Tim?” you ask, leaning in with a grin. “It’ll be good for you to experience some ‘normal’ teenage activities.”

Tim rubs the back of his neck, shifting his weight as he avoids your friend’s knowing gaze. “If... uh, if you think it’ll be fun.”

Jamie just snickers, giving you both an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Look at you two—science nerds bonding over school spirit. I’m impressed.” She gives you a wave as she saunters off, leaving you and Tim standing in the bustling hallway.

Tim lets out a sigh, glancing at you apologetically. “I’m... really not a pep rally person,” he admits, his voice low as students continue to filter around you, talking about the game, the pep rally, and other high school plans.

“Come on, Tim,” you say, your tone playful as you tilt your head, coaxing him. “Just one rally. You could use a bit of excitement that doesn’t involve analyzing chemicals.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he relents. “Alright, alright. Just this once.”

That evening, as you make your way to Wayne Manor for your usual study session, the massive estate looms ahead, imposing yet strangely familiar. Alfred greets you with his usual polite warmth as he opens the door. “Good evening, Miss Y/N. Mr. Drake is already in the library waiting for you,” he says, offering you a tray of tea and biscuits with a soft smile.

You thank him, grabbing a biscuit as you head toward the library. Inside, you find Dick Grayson lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine, but he glances up as you walk in. “Well, well, look who it is!” he teases, smirking. “Y/N, back again to distract Tim from his studies?”

“Hey, I’m just here for the snacks,” you retort, shooting him a grin. Tim appears in the doorway just then, holding a stack of books and looking mortified as he hears Dick’s teasing.

“I—I invited her to study, okay?” Tim stammers, trying to brush off the embarrassment as he sets down his books. His cheeks are tinged red, and he does his best to ignore his brother’s knowing look.

Dick just laughs, ruffling Tim’s hair as he walks past. “Sure, sure. Just don’t study too hard, little bro.”

As he exits, Alfred‘s voice echoes from down the hallway, cutting through the brief silence. “Tim, make sure you get enough sleep tonight. School is important—no matter what else is on your plate.”

You catch Tim’s faint wince, and a flicker of curiosity crosses your mind. You’ve noticed before how his family seems to hint at something… other. Something he’s careful not to talk about. But you push the thought aside, focusing instead on the evening’s work.

Settling at the table with your chemistry notes, you and Tim dive into reviewing complex formulas and covalent bonding structures. The room is cozy, illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp, and you find yourself sneaking glances at him. There’s a softness in his focus, a gentleness in his mannerisms that draws you in, making you forget the world outside.

For a while, there’s only the quiet rustling of papers, the scratching of pens, and the faint ticking of the library’s antique clock. It’s peaceful, intimate in a way you never would’ve expected. The way Tim’s brow furrows slightly as he contemplates a particularly tricky problem, or how he pushes his glasses up his nose absentmindedly, feels almost endearing.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, Tim looks up, catching you staring. His cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, and he smiles shyly—a smile that feels both tentative and sincere, and it makes your heart race. “Sorry, am I boring you?” he asks, teasing but genuinely curious.

You shake your head, trying to brush off the moment’s awkwardness. “Not at all. I’m just... trying to figure out how you manage to look so focused while I’m here daydreaming.”

Tim chuckles softly, his laughter warm and genuine. “It’s just a skill I’ve honed over time,” he replies, leaning back in his chair. “Though I guess I have my distractions.” His gaze flickers to your notes, then back to you, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Just admit it,” you challenge lightly, “you’d be lost without me keeping you on task.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh really? And how would I ever survive these long nights without my study buddy?”

You grin back, your playful banter drawing you even closer. “Exactly. I provide essential academic support.”

Tim shakes his head, laughing again as he dives back into the notes. The connection between you grows stronger in the comfort of shared laughter and study, the boundaries of friendship blending into something more electric with each moment you spend together.

Eventually, the quiet rhythm of study begins to take over once more, but the air is charged with an underlying tension that neither of you can ignore. You find yourself lost in the warmth of his presence, the unspoken words hanging in the air like an unsolved equation waiting for resolution.

As you finish up the last chapter of your notes, you realize it’s getting late. The clock ticks steadily in the background, and Alfred’s voice echoes softly from the distance, signaling that it’s time to head home. You glance up at Tim, who is still buried in his notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Hey, we should wrap this up,” you suggest gently, though a part of you wishes to linger just a little longer.

He looks up, seemingly surprised by the time. “Wow, I didn’t even realize how late it was.” There’s a touch of disappointment in his voice, as if he, too, wishes this moment could stretch on indefinitely.

You start to pack your things, and as you do, a thought crosses your mind. “Oh, by the way, I was wondering if you’d like to come to a party this Friday. It should be fun—lots of people, good music…” You trail off, gauging his reaction.

Tim’s expression shifts slightly, and you can almost see the gears turning in his mind. “A party?” he echoes, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. “I mean, that sounds great, but…”

You watch as he hesitates, and your heart sinks just a little. “But?” you prompt gently.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking genuinely conflicted. “I’ve got… uh, a lot of homework to catch up on,” he says, the words tumbling out awkwardly. “And, you know, I’m really trying to keep my grades up this semester.”

You nod, trying to mask your disappointment. “I get it. School is important,” you reply, your voice softer than you intended. “Maybe another time?”

Tim smiles apologetically, and you can see that he genuinely regrets not being able to join you. “Definitely. I’d love to hang out more, just… you know, when the stars align or something,” he says with a half-hearted laugh.

“Right, stars,” you echo, a playful smile creeping back onto your face, even as you feel the sting of missed opportunity. “Next time, then.”

With a final glance at your notes, you feel ready to embrace whatever comes next, and you can't shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of a beautiful chapter in your lives, even if the party won’t include him.

The rooftop is buzzing with life. Laughter mixes with the gentle clinking of glasses and the low murmur of jazz as people sway to the music, their silhouettes dancing under the warm glow of string lights. Someone’s already opened up a makeshift dance floor near the edge of the rooftop, and a group has gathered around to cheer on a friend trying to pull off a clumsy waltz. Everywhere I look, familiar faces are lit up with excitement, completely lost in the charm of the evening.

I’m leaning against the railing, watching the scene unfold with a grin, when Jamie sidles up beside me, nudging my arm with her elbow. “Look at you, standing here all mysterious and brooding. Let me guess—thinking about Tim again?”

I can’t help but laugh, rolling my eyes. “Absolutely not,” I say, faking indignation. “I’m just… admiring the view.”

She scoffs, clearly not buying it. “Right. And I’m the queen of Gotham,” she says with a smirk, sipping her drink. “Come on, you keep looking like you’re waiting for him to pop up out of nowhere.”

“You caught me.” I glance down at the rooftop’s entrance, knowing full well Tim wouldn’t come to something like this. “I don’t know, Jamie… he’s just different. There’s something going on with him, and he never lets me in.”

“Maybe he’s secretly Batman,” Jamie jokes, wiggling her fingers in a mock-spooky gesture. “Or he’s just shy, Y/N. Not everyone lives for the spotlight like you do.”

“You know, you could’ve just said ‘you’re awesome and everyone knows it,’ but I’ll take that as a compliment,” I reply, feigning a wounded look. Jamie rolls her eyes, laughing, and a few others overhear and join in, nudging me playfully.

“Oh, don’t get all modest now,” a guy from our biology class chimes in. “If it weren’t for you, we’d still be planning our senior trip to that awful museum downtown.”

“True!” Jamie says, raising her glass in mock salute. “Here’s to Y/N, our fearless leader and the best fake friend a girl could ask for.”

“Cheers to fake friends!” I say, clinking my glass with hers, the group laughing in unison. For a moment, I let myself relax, soaking up the energy, watching everyone enjoy themselves. It’s exactly the kind of carefree night I’d hoped for, even if there’s a tiny part of me that wishes Tim could experience it, too.

But then, the mood changes.

It starts subtly—a nervous murmur from someone near the door, followed by a low, panicked gasp. I turn to look, frowning as I see people near the entrance start to back away, their expressions shifting from cheerful to tense. Suddenly, the rooftop door slams open with a force that makes everyone flinch, and I see a group of masked figures rush in, shoving guests aside as they spread out across the space.

People gasp, stumbling back as the intruders take over. The laughter and music come to an abrupt halt, replaced by confused whispers and growing fear. Jamie’s hand grips my arm tightly, her face pale.

“Everyone, stay down!” one of the figures barks, their voice harsh and commanding. My heart pounds as the realization sets in—this isn’t some prank or joke. This is real, and it’s dangerous.

The crowd is chaotic, people backing up in confusion, trying to find places to hide. Instinctively, I try to move away from the intruders, grabbing Jamie’s hand and backing up, my own heart thundering in my chest. The once lively rooftop now feels claustrophobic, the walls and railings pressing in as I try to make sense of the chaos around me.

Someone shouts, and I turn in time to see one of the masked figures shove a table, scattering drinks and causing people to scream as they duck for cover. I stumble backward, my heel catching on the uneven rooftop tiles. I feel Jamie’s grip loosen as I lose my balance, arms flailing as I back up—too far. My stomach drops as I feel my foot slip over the edge, and suddenly, I’m falling.

It’s only for a split second, but it feels like an eternity. The wind rushes past me, the cold night air biting against my skin as gravity pulls me down. But just as panic fully sets in, a firm hand grabs my wrist, pulling me back with surprising strength. I gasp, my eyes wide as I’m yanked away from the edge and steadied by someone in a dark uniform. The masked face of Robin looks down at me, his eyes intense and focused.

“I’ve got you. Just hold on,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring. Even through the mask, there’s something so familiar about his tone that it sends a shiver through me.

Before I can say anything, he pulls me close and activates his grappling hook, launching us to a nearby rooftop in one swift motion. I cling to him, my heart racing, the city blurring around us as he carries me to safety. When we land, he sets me down, his hand still holding mine for a moment longer than necessary.

I look up at him, and my mind races. That voice, that feeling… could it really be?

“Tim?” I whisper, barely able to believe it.

Robin stiffens, his gaze flickering, and he hesitates. He starts to shake his head, but I cross my arms, giving him a knowing look.

“Don’t even try to lie to me,” I say, the words coming out more confidently than I feel. “Tim, I know it’s you.”

He sighs, realizing there’s no point in trying to deny it. He shifts uncomfortably, glancing away before looking back at me, his expression almost sheepish under the mask.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he admits quietly.

I let out a soft laugh, more out of relief than anything. “So all those times you brushed me off or acted like you were busy—it was because you were out saving Gotham?”

There’s a hint of a smirk under his mask, and he finally lets his guard down a bit. “Sorry if my night job interfered with hanging out,” he says, his voice laced with that dry humor I recognize.

We share a smile, the tension easing for just a moment, before he grows serious again. “Y/N, this life… it’s dangerous. I kept you out of it on purpose. I didn’t want you involved.”

I step closer, meeting his gaze with a steadiness I didn’t know I had. “I get it, Tim. But I’d rather know the truth. And if you ever need help—or just someone to talk to—I’m here.”

He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes softening. Finally, he reaches up, and to my surprise, removes the mask, revealing the face I know so well. His expression is both vulnerable and relieved, a quiet question lingering in his eyes.

“You really mean that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t get too serious all the time.”

He laughs softly, his usual guarded demeanor slipping away. But then, the distant sound of sirens brings him back to the present, his face hardening again as the Robin persona returns. “I should go help the others. But… will you wait for me?”

I nod, my heart swelling. “Of course. I’ll be here.”

With one last, lingering look, he slips the mask back on and disappears into the night, leaving me alone on the rooftop. The evening has been flipped on its head, but I can’t help the small smile on my face. Tim, my friend—maybe something more—had been watching over me all along.

74 notes · View notes