#Red Robin x Y/N

[nosyrobin]

IMAGINE

Tim having you in his lap with you snoring. Tim’s groggy eyes look down at his sleeping friend that so very much clingy. But he can’t help but enjoy their presence, Tim shuffled your head a bit, making sure it doesn’t hurt. You groan, clinging to him more as the workaholic just smile. Taking one of his hands off the keyboard and putting it in the side of your hip. You stopped moving and relaxed, snoring again in his touch. Tim just chuckled, kissing your head before he actually got up. Saving his document of reports, and turning off his computer. He lays down with you still clinging to him. Legs wrapped around the man’s waist as his arms are around you safely. Careful to not touch you inappropriately. As he closed his eyes, he felt you smile in your sleep. Hugging him, it felt comforting enough for him to pass out.

[i-yap]

Batboys+bruce x y/n thoughts

Now "the man" is dick grayson. Batman literally said Nightwing is what Batman should have been. He is kind he is understanding he is caring and patient and honestly if you are a little broken, u are assigned to dick . He is wanted by everyone, this is the guy you take home. this is the man who buys you flowers and serenades you and always keeps your boundaries in mind. this is the man that can read you like an open book. that sees the real you no matter how hard you try to hide. Not saying he doesn't have issues, he sucks at communication and commitment. he has a saviours complex. But with the right person, it just fades away and all there is left is the perfect man to marry and have kids and save the world. - aka the married couple

BUT jason is "the man for a woman" . He practically worships the ground you walk on( he lowkey does , like if you're away from the house he'll look at the apartment floor and be like...wheeererrr isss myyyy y/nnnn ) He will leave everything behind for you, will kill everyone no questions asked. Its really heavy and passionate and a little crazy but that's jason for you . It can be a lot for someone who needs personal space or has commitment issues or issues opening up. You got to be really kind, patient and loving when it comes to jason. Very good at reading people and a giver. - aka morticia and gomez

AND Bruce , that dude has a lot of responsibilities. He has no time, he is so busy, he is so tired, he cant be with someone seriously...but why does he want you so bad. You'll have to be strong and patient and forgiving and kind. You will have to force your way into his life and pull him away from all the madness. you are the golden saviour that drags him away from the hell he has been sinking into. pulls him away, encourages him to retire and shows him what a normal life and sleep schedule looks like. After all he has done and given, he deserves to retire with the woman he loves. In many comics, bruce becomes evil from this long life of crime fighting and paranoia or is killed . You save him, teach him that he can too have everything he tries to give other people. A family, peace and love- aka the saving grace

NOW Tim isnt like that at all He is free in all ways the other batboys are not. Dick is so tied down with his superhero responsibilities and jason is so needy and a little demanding to be with . Bruce is tired and not as full of energy . But you can be a kid with tim. there is spontaneity , there is adventure, there is freedom and rebellion and expression of self. The actual teenage love, lets go for a drive and end up in a bull riding contest tim wins and then shut down that ring so no bull is every hurt again. Teeths turning blue from that slushie that just gave him freezebrain. - aka teenage dirtbags

[glamourscat]

May i please request headcanons, maybe a drabble of the batboys where reader is trying so hard to pretend that they don't know anything about their partner being a vigilante because they want to be told with trust and the boys are growing increasingly concerned about their s/o's obliviousness bcs like?? and the their s/o keeps saying things like "haha yeah!! red robin's super underground but that costume is pretty good timmy!" and "oh? i do have a thing for morally gray men, lovely red hood costume" whenever they accidentally see parts of the costume and can't pretend they didn't see it

idk i just think it would be funny af, ty in advance!!

i decided to go for drabbles. they are quite long so i only did jason and tim. should i do dick, maybe steph too, in the near future? let me know!

"You can't be serious," Jason thought. It's not that you're blind, and he’s not exactly being subtle. He knew from day one that being involved with a civilian meant the topic of his nightlife would eventually come to light. Before getting together you two had been friends for a long time, but he never quite managed to outright say, "Hey, by the way, I’m Red Hood." How do you even drop something like that into a conversation? 

Yet, as your relationship grew, more milestones came along and suddenly, you two were approaching your 2 year anniversary. Now, more than ever, as you found yourselves living together, Jason knew it was going to be harder to explain his secret. How many lies could he keep telling about going to help Roy or some emergency with Dick? How many nights could he still sneak out after you’d fallen asleep, only to return aching from a patrol?

So, he started leaving subtle hints. From his domino mask to his gloves… but hell, at this point, he might as well leave his whole costume out, because how in the hell are you not picking up on the clues?

“You know, Jay, that vigilante... What's his name? The one in red? Oh right, Red Hood. He’s pretty cool, right? I mean, he has a different approach than the others, i think some would say morally gray. I mean, hot.. Anyway, but—oh, wait, this is a lovely Red Hood costume! I didn’t know you were a fan too?!”

At that moment, Jason didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or do both at the same time. Maybe by accident—maybe not—he had left his entire costume out. And it wasn’t exactly cheap. The fabric was thick, heavy, it was definitely not something you’d find at a Spirit Halloween. Yet, you just folded it, didn’t ask any questions, and continued with your little chat.

“Doll, you got a moment?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible because he was seconds away from laughing his lungs out.

“Yeah, Jay?” You looked at him, internally sweating. Did you give anything away? Did he suspect that you knew?

“You know, doll… that… the costume. I mean, it’s not fake, right? I…” He sighed, trying to find the right words.

“It’s real. Because I’m the Red Hood.” There. He’d said it. A relieved sigh left his lips as the words came out. Now comes the hardest part: your reaction. Would you laugh? Be shocked?

“Oh, yeah. I knew.”

What?

“What—? I beg your pardon?” Jason asked, his voice laced with disbelief, eyes scanning you to figure out if you were lying.

“I mean, you’re not exactly the most subtle, love, are you?” You said, amusement dancing in your eyes as you tried to hold back a smile. “Besides, I found out a while ago. I was just waiting, I suppose. It wasn’t my place to ask or say anything. I figured when you were ready, you’d say something.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Wait… when did you find out?” Jason raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Well, you see… It wasn’t that hard. At the beginning of our relationship when I’d tell you, ‘Hey, I’m going out with my friends tonight,’ and then coincidentally, when something happened—because it’s Gotham, let's be honest—there you were, Red Hood, swooping in to save the day. Always fleeting, never lingering too long. But what was really odd was that both Red Hood and my new boyfriend had the exact same walk style. Not to mention, Jay, mask or no mask, costume or no costume, I could still recognize you. Even in a crowded room.”

Jason just stood there, stunned. How had he missed all the signs? A part of him was relieved, he didn’t have to keep lying, but another part of him couldn’t believe he had been so obvious. You were too sharp for him to pull anything past you. And to think he was under the impression he had you fooled…

As he looked at you, he realized there was more to your patience than just waiting for him to confess. You’d known, but you’d never pushed him. It made him wonder how long you had really been aware. But now that it was out in the open, Jason found himself surprised by how easy the weight of the secret seemed to fall away. He’d been carrying it for so long, and yet, with you, there was no judgment, no shock. Just acceptance.

"You've always been patient with me," he murmured, his voice soft but grateful.

You gave him a warm, knowing smile, stepping closer. "Because I know you, Jason. And I know what you're doing matters. It’s a part of who you are, just like everything else."

Tim was stressed, but to be fair, Tim was always stressed. You two had been dating for a good while now and had been friends for much longer. However, somehow, he still hadn’t brought up the whole vigilante thing. Maybe it was because he was scared, or maybe it was due to his own selfishness. For once, he just wanted someone to see him as Tim and only Tim. But the truth was, he couldn’t exist without Red Robin. He knew that. And it had been too long. He knew he had to say something. But… does he?

Still, something didn’t sit right with him. It was the way you weren’t questioning him anymore on why he was always so tired, why sometimes he had to be gone for an entire week or why he trained so intensely. His physique, though not the most built, was still incredibly fit for a “simple rich kid.” And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand if you were just pretending not to notice or if you honestly hadn’t put it together. But when you suggested what costumes to wear for Halloween, he almost passed out on the spot.

“Yeah, I mean, we can do a couple’s costumes or… I don’t know, Tim. We can always go as… hmm? What about we go as vigilantes? I can be Wonder Woman and you can be Red Robin. It’s pretty underground. I’m sure the costume will look great; besides, you already have a good replica in your wardrobe. Fits like a glove, no?”

Like, this had to be a joke, right? Sometimes Tim wondered if his life was some kind of reality show, secretly followed by cameras just to capture his reaction to these weird, questionable moments.

He froze for a moment, staring at you, trying to piece everything together. Was this your way of telling him you knew? Was this a test?

“Uh... you... know?” he asked, his voice betraying a mix of confusion and disbelief.

You look at him confused. “Know what?” You shrugged, casually leaning back in your chair.

Tim blinked, his mind racing. He was smart, very so, but at this very moment he felt like the most ignorant being on planet Earth. He looks at you and you look at him and for a moment there is this unspoken, silent battle.

“You know, that I am Red Robin.” he says, quietly. Eyes searching yours for an answer.

“And what if I do?” you reply back equally quietly.

He had expected a lot of things. Shock, anger, even confusion, but not this calm, almost nonchalant acknowledgment. And yet, a wave of relief washed over him. You weren’t angry or disappointed. You weren’t even all that surprised.

“I’ve always known, Tim,” you continued, your tone softening. “You’ve been dropping clues left and right. The late nights, the cryptic phone calls, the strange bruises... And don’t even get me started on your ‘training’ routines. I never pushed because I knew you’d tell me when you were ready. And now, here we are. Although… I certainly did not imagine it to happen in such a way” you say, letting out a small soft laugh. 

Tim let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging in a way that felt like he’d been carrying a weight for far too long. "I didn’t want to burden you with it. I didn’t want to be Red Robin to you. I just wanted to be... just Tim."

You smiled softly, walking over to hug him. “And you are. You’re Red Robin, sure, but you’re not just that; are you? You’re Tim. My Tim. Two things can coexist at the same exact time, this is just what makes you.. You, ya know?” 

Tim stared at you for a moment, hands around your waist, his mind still processing. It was as if the entire weight of the secret identity he’d been carrying all this time suddenly evaporated. He had been so worried about how you would react, but now that it was out in the open, there was nothing left to hide.

"Thanks," he whispered, his head dropping to your neck. Hiding, but not really. It was more or so a way to feel you even closer. 

Your head gently resting against his, brushing a kiss against his hair. “Always, Tim. You’re still the same guy I fell for. I love you.”

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[ahqkas]

— gn!reader, suggestive content

the quiet hum of the computer was the only sound in the room as TIM DRAKE sat slouched in his spinning chair, his tired eyes glued to the screen. the dark circles that framed them betrayed the exhaustion he tried to hide. the desk was littered with blank papers, empty cups, and half-finished notes. you stood in the doorway, watching him, the flickering light of the screen casting shadows across his face.

“tim,” you called out into the dark room quietly as you took a step inside. the concern was dripping from your tone. “you’re still at it?”

the boy in question looked up and his eyes locked with yours. he offered you a small, tired smile that didn’t quite reach the corners of his eyes. “just a little more,” he muttered, his voice rough from hours of not talking. the way he rubbed his temples told you he was beyond the point if exhaustion.

you approached him, walking slowly across the room. as you came closer, the palm of your hand found its way to his shoulder, gently pressing down. the muscles there were tense beneath your touch, a sign of the pressure he’s been under. “tim,” your fingers traced along the muscle of his shoulder in a subtle attempt to ease the tension. “you need a break.”

his hand lifted and brushed against yours, fingers closing softly around your wrist. his touch was warm and comforting as his eyes found yours once again, but there was something different in their depths now—something softer, like he was finally allowing himself to stop pretending everything was fine. “i’ll take a break if you’re here.”

a small smile tugged at your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, brushing your lips over his in a sweet kiss.

the kiss deepened quickly, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. his touch was urgent now as if the weight of the past hours melted away in an instant once he was with you. one of his hands slid to the small of your back, long fingers splaying across the skin, while the other cupped your cheek in a gentle hold. the kiss grew more heated from this point.

you responded eagerly, your hands moving from his shoulders to his chest, fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his sweatshirt. he groaned softly into your mouth and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. you heart raced a little faster when you felt tim’s lips trailing down your neck along with his fingers sliding under your shirt, just grazing the curve of your bare back.

gasping softly at the contact, you urged him to kiss you again. his lips were back on yours in an instant, more desperate this time.

you couldn’t get enough of him—his hands, his lips, the way he handled you, like he needed this as much as he needed breathing. ( if he stopped, he’d simply parish ). you ran your hands down his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips, before you pulled his sweatshirt off, tossing it aside. tim let out a quiet breath at the sudden motion but he was back at worshiping you just as fast.

if he could, he’d swallow all of your sweetness, have you melt into his veins and let you flow through his system. he’d let you rot his teeth because only then he’d be convinced you’re real.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[shortnsweetsposts]

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!?!!

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Hi, random thought but YK how in the first movie in Spiderman into the multiverse and Peter Parker was fighting. During the scene, it showed him stopping a full on huge moving machine- so like... Imagine spiderman!reader surprising everyone with their strength 😧

[That is a great ask! ALSO, Happy Birthday Jason Todd!]

《BATBOYS and SPIDER!S/O》 Mini Series

[1/?]

╭╭(╭◕‿◕╮)╮╮ ♡ /|\ ^._.^ /|\

Bruce Wayne:

Typing down the mission report for the Leauge. Batman heard you scurrying about behind him.

"Where... Did I..? Is it- No...?" You mumble, carefully moving a few things around.

"What did you loose." Batman stated, eyes focused on the big screen.

"My new pen, I bought it just to help finish paperwork!" You mumble worried, jumping up on a near by wall as you crawl above. Looking down below carefully.

Suddenly, you hop down, walking up behind him. Causing him to pause momentarily as you lean down. Wait-

"Found it! It was underneath you!"

You beam up at him as he looks down at you from his seated position. Easily hoisting the chair with one hand. Politely lowering him back down.

"Thanks B!" You lean to his side happily.

-

Dick Grayson:

It was supposed to be a simple patrol... NOT fight off a few henchman from Killer Croc!

Spidey-sense out of control, you duck down from one of the goons swings. Barely dodging out of the way in time-

*CRASH!*

A bottle crashes down on your shoulder, bits of glass still wedge between your skin and suit

The air becomes thick as the goons freeze at the loud noise.

Even Nightwing mid-remark, gapes at the wound.

...

Ignoring the look Nightwing gave you, you drag the criminals by the scruff of their shirts to the officer.

Giving them your report on what happend, you shoot out a web. Winicing at your injury, you ready yourself for web-slinging. Before a hands grasps your shoulder.

"Please..."

He murmers hopefully, tone a bit guilty.

"... Fine." You relent, watching him grin as he goes to grab his bike.

-

Jason Todd:

With a pep-in-your-step, Jason eyes you. Seeing your bright smile like he expected, but what caught him off gaurd were the bags on BAGS you held in your grip, walking with ease.

Bruce had sent piles of gifts to your doorstep and mailbox for Jasons birthday. Many items to the point you knew that could make many trips bringing them inside. But you would not Jason even lift a finger to help on this special day!

While most friends, or boyfriends wouldn't let their s/o carry so much stuff. You stated with glee you would happily hold his things!

"Jason! Look at all of this! Aww!" You gush, holding the items with ease as you place them down by his side. The young man's lips turn up slightly, gazing fondly at you.

"Jason!" You swoon aloud, shoving the gifts so you could sit by his side. Puppy-eyed, begging him to let you smother his face with kisses.

-

Tim Drake:

Yawning, you scratch your neck as you eye Tim snuggled into your tummy's side. Raising a brow, you poke him. Laughing as he merely scooted closer.

Sticking your tounge at him, you poke at him one last time before he wakes up.

"Mornin'!"

Red Robin smiles, a bit more comforted with you beside him. He moves away, analyzing his area before noticing the keypad to the cell.

"O-Kkkkkaaay- How the hell do we get out of here." Glancing around the small prison cell, you notice a keypad as well.

"Oh, easy-peasy."

"You know the code?"

"Yup! Beep bo bop!" You narrate the bottons, but it glowed red. Showing it wasn't the right answer.

Smiling, you shove your fist through as the wires and glass break due to the impact.

-

[A little something for my Jason Todd fans out there! Happy bday Jason Todd!]

[miwsolovely]

—can you love me (like i love you?)

𝜗𝜚 — in which, red robin likes to shows up at your apartment for an irenic moment from the harsh lines of Gotham. he meets you and you meet him, all of him.

TIM DRAKE x CIVILIAN! GN!READER mild angst. reader pining over tim, vice versa if you squint. 3.8k. — this was so fun — requested

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked asphalt and blooming jasmine from the park nearby. You always found it comforting—an odd juxtaposition of Gotham’s grit and its rare moments of beauty. Tonight, however, it wasn’t the air that brought you solace. It was the quiet creak of boots landing on your fire escape.

You smiled before even turning to look. “You’re late,” You teased, peering over your shoulder at the figure perched outside your window.

“Got caught up,” Red Robin replied, his voice light but tinged with fatigue. He stepped into the room with a practiced ease, his cape swaying slightly as he entered. The mask didn’t hide much—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed from the weight of the night’s patrol.

“You okay?” You asked, setting down the tea you’d been preparing next to an additional mug, turning around to face him in the living room, ignoring the pressure of your island on your lower back.

It had become routine by now. After weeks of these impromptu visits, you’d learned his habits: the subtle signs of exhaustion, the occasional wince from a barely hidden injury.

“I’m fine,” He said, though the way he sank into your worn-out armchair betrayed him.

You sighed and let the warmth seep into your palms as you spun around and took a mug from the counter and handed it to him. He took it without argument, the warmth seeming to settle him as he leaned back. “Liar,” You quipped. His nose tensed when he lied.

It had started months ago, the first time he appeared outside your window like some wayward bird. You’d been startled, of course—who wouldn’t be? But he hadn’t come for trouble, just a quiet moment away from the chaos. And somehow, without ever planning to, you became part of his nightly routine.

The first few visits had been awkward. After all, how often does Gotham’s very own Red Robin show up uninvited? But over time, the strangeness faded. He was careful never to overstep, never to ask too many personal questions or reveal too much about himself. Instead, your conversations meandered—books, movies, music, even the weird quirks of Gotham’s neighborhoods.

It wasn’t just him who needed the company. You found yourself looking forward to his visits more than you cared to admit. He was steady, like the ticking of a clock in the background of your life, even if you only ever saw him at night.

Tonight felt different, though. He wasn’t as talkative as usual, his responses short and clipped. You watched him over the rim of your own mug, debating whether to press.

“Long night?” You ventured.

“Something like that,” He replied, staring out the window at the city below. “Some nights are harder than others.”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to pry, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that tugged at you. “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You’d make a good therapist.”

“I’m just nosy,” You said lightly, hoping to draw out more of that smile.

And for a moment, it worked. He chuckled softly, the sound like a warm ember in the cold.

“Thanks,” He said after a beat. “For this. For letting me . . . just be here.”

“You say that like you’re intruding.”

“Aren’t I?”

“No,” You said firmly. “You’re not.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need filling. You’d grown used to these quiet stretches, knowing that sometimes words weren’t enough to smooth over the rough edges of the night.

After a while, he stood, setting the empty mug on the counter. “I should get going,” He said, his voice softer now.

“Be safe out there,” You say, facing him on your place on your chair, the words automatic but heartfelt.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. Then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows as seamlessly as he’d arrived.

A foggy evening, after his patrol, he arrived later than usual. His uniform was damp, and he looked more worn than you’d ever seen him.

When his eyes met yours, you let out an amused huff, walking to the closet in the hallway to your room, grabbing a beige towel and making your way back to him. “Take a dip in the lake Red?” You teased, handing him the towel as he stepped closer to you.

“Something like that,” He said, echoing the same vague answer he always gave. Even with the mask, you could feel the dam that wanted to implode.

Your brows furrowed.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

He looked at you sharply, as if the words had hit a nerve. “I’m used to it,” He said after a pause, his voice low and guarded.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be.”

The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut.

“I don’t… I can’t risk that,” He said finally. “Letting people in. It’s complicated.”

“Life’s complicated,” Your countered. “But you don’t have to keep everyone at arm’s length. At least not me.”

He stared at you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. Then, as if breaking under the weight of his own defenses, he said, “I wish it were that simple.”

You didn’t bring it up again, sensing it was a line he wasn’t ready to cross. But the moment lingered, coloring every interaction that followed.

You’d open up to him. Though it wasn’t as reciprocated, you didn’t mind because he listened. Sometimes, when the night was soft, you two would talk about the random things that reminded you of each other, it was your favorite part of when he’d come to your apartment, relaxing in each others presence; it left a sapid taste in your mouth.

You’d talk to him about your life in Gotham University, talked to him about the enigma your heart palpitated for. How his voice made your smile bright and cheeks warm, how it rang though your mind constantly throughout the day, echoing off the walls and finding it’s way back to your heart, the devil that wouldn’t calm down.

You hadn’t realized that underneath the mask, he looked at you with a smile lining his eyes, his own devil pounding in his chest.

When asked if he knew of your feelings, your smiled turned bashful.

“He doesn’t even know my name, Red. I’m just a random with a crush.”

You’re not random, you’re mine. Is what he wanted to say, he wanted you to know who he is. Not the man with the mask — rather the man behind it.

He distanced himself from you at school because he thought that if he didn’t, you’d figure out he’s ‘Boy Wonder’ a bit too easy for his taste. He scares himself every night thinking about what would happen if you find out.

And then one night, he laughed.

Not just the quiet chuckle you’d heard before, but a full, unrestrained laugh that lit up his face. It was over something stupid—a poorly told joke you’d heard from a coworker. But the sound warmed you to your core, and for a moment, it reminded you of your enigma, Tim Drake.

How could someone do that? Look so familiar but unknown at the same time? Your eyes seeing one person, Red Robin: Gotham’s hero. But your heart seeing, hearing, feeling—

“Tim.”

The name left your lips in a whisper, your heart hammering in your chest. You hadn’t meant to say it. You weren’t even sure how you knew, but it was there—like a puzzle piece falling into place.

He froze, his entire body going rigid. “What did you say?”

“Tim,” Quieter this time, you repeated it. “That’s—”

He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes confirmed it.

“I . . . I didn’t mean to—” You started, but he cut you off.

“How?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know,” You admitted. “I just . . . knew.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of what you’d just revealed.

Red Robin—Tim—he stepped back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to read the truth there. You could feel the tension in the room, thick and unyielding, and for a moment you thought he might leave. But instead, he sighed, his shoulders slumping as though a great weight had finally pressed him down.

“I’ve been careful,” he said softly. “I’ve spent so long making sure you — no one could ever connect me to . . . to this.”

You didn’t know what to say, the gravity of his words grounding you to the spot. Finally, you managed, “I didn’t mean to—to figure it out! It’s not like I was trying. It just . . .”

He ran a hand through his hair, the motion uncharacteristically unguarded. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have let this go on for so long.”

“Don’t say that,” You pleaded, stepping closer. “I know you think you’re protecting yourself, or me, but you don’t have to do this alone, Tim.”

Hearing his name in your voice seemed to shake something loose in him. He looked at you, really looked at you, and the mask of Red Robin slipped away for just a moment. Beneath it was someone young, someone tired, someone who wanted to believe you. The enigma who became more familiar.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know how to turn it off, how to let someone in without putting them in danger.”

You reached out, your hand hovering just above his arm. “You already let me in,” You said quietly. “That’s why you kept—” You stop yourself. “—that’s why you keep coming back.” Your hand connects with the rough material of his suit and you wish you could feel his skin on yours.

He didn’t pull away. For a long moment, the two of you stood there, the sound of rain against the window the only noise in the room.

Finally, he spoke. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”

You shook your head, your throat tight. “Don’t decide that for me.”

The words seemed to hit him like a blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Instead, he turned his head, staring at the rain running down the window as though it could give him the answers he sought.

“I’ve thought about it,” You continued, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve thought about what it would mean. What it would mean to care about you —really care about you. Even though it was for Tim at first, there’s more to you and I want to care for you and everything that comes with it. And I’m still here. I’ll always be here Tim.”

That seemed to break him. He sank down onto the edge of the couch behind him, his head in his hands. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. What my life is like. The people I go up against—they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you to get to me.”

“And you don’t understand what you could mean to me,” You countered. You sit on the floor, right at his feet so you can lock eyes with him even though his domino mask hides them, you can still see the blue of his eyes you admire so much.

“I see the risks, Tim. I see them every night when you walk out that window, not knowing if you’ll come back. But I’m still here because I care about you. And you need to stop deciding what I can handle.”

He looked up at you then, the walls he’d so carefully constructed were crumbling, and you saw the man behind the vigilante.

“I care about you too,” He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I should, and — and it scares the hell out of me.”

You rose from sitting criss-cross to your knees, resting your arms on his, you wanted to get impossibly closer, closing the gap between the two of you. “Then let’s be scared together.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and real, and for the first time, neither of you looked away. You didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if this thing between you could survive the dangers and secrets of his world. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

He reached for your hand, his touch tentative but warm. “This won’t be easy,” He warned you gently.

“I know,” You said, squeezing his hand. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled—not the practiced smile of Red Robin, but something softer, something real.

“I don’t deserve you,” He murmured.

“Maybe not,” You teased, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But you’ve got me anyway.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, the storm outside mirroring the quiet storm of emotions between you. And when he finally left that night, it wasn’t with the usual heaviness of his patrols.

This time, he carried a piece of you with him—and left a piece of himself behind.

©miwsolovely do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms . likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3

[kimberly-spirits13]

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.” 

[lesbianbarbaragordon]

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 part 2 of Unraveling the World read part 1 here

“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.

”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.

“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.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

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

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[elizzsush]

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.

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.

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.”

[nosyrobin]

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.

[i-yap]

Batboys x reader- call in the middle of s*x

no minors read this pls

Dick grayson

CHEEKY TEASING PIECE OF SH*T this man is. Will calmly lift his face from your neck to grab the phone on the bedside table. "babyyy* y/n groan mad that he would stop. Oh she wishes he would stop. Because dick put the speaker phone on, kept the phone beside her face and continued to rail her. And she swears he got faster. "you don't want them hearing you do you sweetie? don't want them to know you're a whore right? you'll be good wont you?" he whispers. Somehow all this isn't affecting how he is talking on the call. his voice steady and friendly, but you can tell its hard for him too with the way his hand grips you tighter and his hips stutter.

Jason

Gets mad. how dare someone take away his moment of enlightenment, or joy, or ...ugh he cant even put it in words. has he not suffered enough? will growl and throw the phone against the wall smashing it completely. you let out a yelp in shock your eyes widening in fear which he quickly shuhses holding you face in his hands with gentleness that makes u think u hallucinated the aggression just second ago. slowly rocks into you kissing you slowly as if lulling you back into bliss.

Tim

didnt even realize. You have to tug his hair away from your breasts.."t-tim the phone" you point out "hm?" he is too far gone to register anything..too pussy drunk to think straight.."tim!" you say firmer, " ill call them back" he mumbles. not even the annoying ring of his phone can snap him away from you.

Bruce

groans before siting up to take the call still gently rocking into you. but unlike dick he isn't being mean about it. "bruceee" you whine clawing at his abdomen "pleaseee" you nearly sob. he's teased you enough before this( always does some form of foreplay and usually a lengthy one- usually denial rather than overstimulation) I places his finger to his lip to tell u to shush. Grunt as he talks over the call, will clamp his hand down over you mouth if you make too much noise

[glamourscat]

It was 3am and you were supposed to be asleep, but after dating TIM DRAKE for almost two years now, you picked up on his weird sleeping patterns. Tonight in particular your brain won’t rest. Not until you will receive his usual post patrol message.

2am, then 2:30, 3 and 3:30am rolls around and your lack of sleep was slowly turning into anxiety. Why hadn’t he texted yet? Did something happened? You try to make sense of the situation, but your brain is refusing from making you think logically. And just as you were about to message him, his message comes through.

“sorry for the late message. had to run in the shower immediately after i arrived home cause i was covered in blood” he texts 

“not mine btw” he follows up, knowing already to clarify. 

“good, good. im glad you’re ok love, i was beginning to worry. what are you doing now then?” you text back, eyes fluttering at the screen waiting for those three dots to appear. But they don’t. In their place a picture appears. 

Him. In front of the mirror. His face covered by his phone, one arm on the sink leaning a bit to flex his muscles and that towel dangerously low, enough to see his v-line and the outline of his hardness against it. Oh….

“damn, drop the towel? 🙂‍↕️🙏🏻”  “for scientific purposes obviously…” you add in two consecutive texts. 

You know it’s unlikely he would do it, but teasing him comes naturally to y— he did it. You cannot even continue your train of thoughts because suddenly his next picture comes through. The towel gone, his pretty cock— and that damn blushy pink tip— staring right back at ya, hard against his stomach. 

You can’t even begin to form a coherent thought  as another picture comes through. 

This time he is on his bed, on his knees— which are open to show the view between his legs— His hungry, leaking, cock is begging to be touched; while his face now—no longer covered by the phone— looks at his phone through the mirror reflection with a knowingly devilish grin. And your mind goes to one thought, and one only, how desperately you wish to have a dick. Because he looks so damn breedable right now. 

“cause I don’t feel like I did it right the first time ;)” he texts back within seconds from sending that second picture. 

“hey…? you still there lol?” he texts back after 10,  long minutes without a reply from you. Did he overstep? Was it too much…?  But then the outdoor camera alerts him of a movement outside his front door. 

“im outside. open me up.”  ________________________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

A/N: I wrote this at 5AM and had the sudden, horny, urge of writing for Tim. Nothing else to add lmao. Also this is not proofread :(

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[ahqkas]

Could you do making gingerbread houses and decorating gingerbread men with the batfam

♯ SWEET TOOTH ( the batboys decorating gingerbread with you ! )

— gn!reader, dick & jason & tim ( separated ), fluff, kinda shorter than i wanted it to be 😣

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

THE FAINT SCENT OF CINNAMON AND ORANGE LINGERED IN THE AIR as you and your boyfriend stood by the kitchen counter, the place messy and full of bowls that contained colorful sprinkles. bags of candy sat nearby, waiting to be used but you ignored them for now. a half-constructed gingerbread house held all your attention at this moment.

its brown walls were slightly leaning to the opposite side and all you could do was to watch your boyfriend and his poor attempts at fixing the mess. ‘a little frosting will fix that’, he’d told you, and you gave him a nod of understanding, but you thought otherwise. it was funny, though, watching him struggle and slowly come to the realization that he wasn’t so right after all.

“you’ve got to trust the process, babe,” dick’s grin was big and full of trust as he smoothed a glob of white icing along the edges of the gingerbread walls.

“the process looks like it’s about to collapse. you sure you don’t need reinforcements?” you poked one of those walls with your fingertip, ignoring the way his eyes shifted to glare slightly at you. you knew you were cheeky.

“your lack of faith wounds me. i’m excellent in this, okay? a gingerbread architect. i’ve got this completely under control.”

you had to bite back a laugh because as soon as those words left his lips, the build of the whole gingerbread house wobbled, dangerously close to falling apart. dick’s skilled hands and long fingers moved to support his creation before he gave up and let the house fall into a big pile of sweets.

his blue eyes avoided yours when a little laugh slipped out of you, hands moving to wrap around his arm as you shook with moment. your boyfriend looked absolutely defeated, it was adorable on him.

“that’s how your control looks like?” the teasing remark came naturally between the two of you. you scooped a bit of the white icing of his crashed house and wiped it along his cheek, making a mess out of his pretty face.

. . . JASON TODD !

YOUR WHOLE KITCHEN SMELLED LIKE CHRISTMAS. warm scent of wine filled the air along with cinnamon and vanilla, tickling your nose in the right way. the kitchen was a certified mess. the counters were covered with bowls of colorful icing, sparkles, and candies in all shapes and sizes. a playlist consisting of christmas songs that tim had created for you was playing on loop the entire time from your phone in the corner, though the occasional crackle of the fire from the living room softened the atmosphere you’d created with your boyfriend.

speaking of him, jason stood by the edge of your kitchen island, long sleeves of his fitting shirt pushed up past his elbows, while he clutched a half-decorated gingerbread man in one hand and a bag of icing in the other. he looked so out of place but at the same time, he didn’t. his black shirt was dusted with a smattering of flour, and a streak of red icing lined his forearm where he’d clearly brushed it against one of those gingerbread men. the white tuff of his hair fell against his brow while he concentrated with his lips slightly pursed. the tip of his tongue barely poke out to lick the corners of his mouth from time to time.

your handsome jay.

“you’re taking this way to seriously,” you pointed out gently yet in a teasing tone from beside him, watching as he clothed the gingerbread man in a blue suit.

jason raised one eyebrow at your words, glancing at your own cookie in your hands. “yours looks like it fell face down into the bowl of sprinkles.”

“well, look at his little scarf.”

“it’s a blob of frosting, baby. you might need to pick up glasses.”

you staled yourself for any more remarks, although playful fights with your boyfriend never failed to lift up your mood. it was your thing, something that grew out of the roots in your relationship. the gingerbread man you were tasked to decorate now lay forgotten on the counter as you watched jason with all your attention, eyes following the movements of his skilled hands and fingers.

he started adding ridiculous details to his gingerbread man—a bird symbol on of their little chests, another with with red eyes and sharp canines for teeth. the resemblance was there and all you could do was laugh more.

“that’s supposed to be dick. and demon spawn.”

“you’re making fun of your brothers through cookies?”

“it’s therapeutic.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

YOUR BOYFRIEND HAD INSISTED ON STARTING WITH COOKIES EARLIER THIS YEAR. something about wanting it to be perfect and neat, like it in his opinion should be. you’d laughed, thinking it was just an excuse to get more into the christmas spirit, but after you agreed and saw how focused he was on the task at his hand, you realized he’d meant every single word he said.

he stood at the dining table, sleeves rolled up to avoid making any further mess while he hummed a gentle note of what suspiciously sounded like a christmas carol. his brows were furrowed in concentration, the flour smudge on his cheek only highlighting the focus as he squeezed the piping bag. he carefully applied red frosting to the edge of his gingerbread man’s hoodie with his tongue poking out past his lips. you worked beside him, although less focused in your approach. you saw this activity as a sort of fun evening with him, while tim seemed to treat it like an opportunity to perfect himself.

you grew curious of his work the more he covered it from you. it was meant to be a subtle movement, but the way he turned his back to you more and more was getting suspicious. you leaned in slightly to peek at what he was doing, expecting to see his gingerbread man perfected to the dot, because of course it would be. instead, you saw something that both warmed your heart and tickled your sense of humor.

the first of his gingerbread man adorned a red hoodie with blue sprinkles for eyes and a tiny crooked smile that somehow made the cookie look exactly like your boyfriend. beside it lay a second gingerbread figure—this one wearing a pale yellow sweater, complimented with colorful candy buttons, and a neat swirl of icing for hair that unmistakably matched yours.

“tim. what are you working on there?”

your boyfriend stiffed upon the sound of your voice and the teasing edge that came with it. he was in deep before he could even speak up in his defense.

“uhhh, nothing.”

“nothing, huh? so these two aren’t supposed to be us?”

you watched as his ears turned red, and he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, glancing at you sheepishly. “okay, fine, maybe they are us. but you don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“timothy jackson drake, this is adorable. you even gave me candy buttons. i am making a big deal out of this.”

it was such a small thing, but it made you feel huge feelings. no matter how quiet or closeted tim could be, things like these—where his actions spoke louder than his words ever could—reminded you how deeply he really cared. and as you nudged yourself into his arms, enveloping both of you into warmth and more flour, you felt the same sparkles blooming in your heart.

christmas with him was always magical.

[shortnsweetsposts]

Bat!reader: Tell me why your hands are cold?

Tim: Cold hands are often a sign that your body is trying to maintain its regular body temperature *starts yapping away*

*Bat!reader just happy to be holding hands with him*