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lovetrouble123 · 29 days ago

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Anxiety Angel

Synopsis: It’s your first time wearing a bathing suit around them, so you can’t help but feel insecure

TW: suggestive content, Tim being a creep, Jason has boy brain, Damian is such a concerned sweetheart in this ugh

A/N: I might write more things with all the boys included…maybe…idk yet

Masterlist

Included: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Damian Al Ghul Wayne:)

𓇼🐚☾☼🦪

→Bruce

Pulling Bruce away from his work as both the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and as Gotham’s protector was like pulling teeth. He rarely (and I mean rarely) took days off, especially from his night time job as the Batman. But summer was coming around and all your friends were going on fun and exciting vacations, while you were stuck in the cesspool known as Gotham City.

Y/N’s boyfriend had taken her out of the state and country before for business meetings, and the few times that his night time job made him travel. But those were all at work expenses, nothing for just them two.

So, with much convincing, Y/N was able to pull Bruce away from Gotham for a weekend. Yeah, a weekend. Two days. She had bargained for a week, but he very sternly told her: “take a weekend or nothing at all.”

But now came the hard part, her insecurities. Y/N wasn’t model thin, just average…maybe a little plush. Either way, she hated her body and was always finding the faults in it.

She knew that Bruce probably wouldn’t care about her body and how it looked in a bathing suit. But this was Bruce Wayne we’re talking about here…dude’s been with countless women—models included!

“Sweetheart, are you okay in there?” Bruce asked as he knocked on the door to the bathroom. “You dragged me away from work just to haul yourself up in there? You could have done that at the manor.”

Y/N flinched a little at the sound of his voice on the other side of the door. “I’m—,” she trailed off. What was she going to say? That she was okay? That she wasn’t going to go anymore?

Bruce tried to open the door, but the handle barely turned any as an indicator that it was locked from the inside. He sighed to himself before replying, “you can’t force me away from work and then hide in there all day. I thought you wanted to get out of Gotham for a little.”

“I did,” Y/N admitted as she looked over her ugly shoulders, and stomach, and arms, and legs, and—. “But now I’m having second thoughts.”

“Y/N, let me in.” Bruce firmly demanded in a soft voice that left no room for argument.

She tore her eyes away from her body and from the mirror as she shuffled over to the door. She unlocked it and wrapped her arms around her torso as Bruce opened the bathroom door to find her in a black bikini.

There was no hiding it from him. No amount of convincing that she was fine would simply slip past the world’s greatest detective, so she didn’t even try. Was it the way she covered her stomach? Or the way her shoulder’s sagged ever so slightly that gave her away? Maybe the small frown on her face that told a thousand words?

But to Bruce, she was stunning, and yet she stood there with so much insecurity and doubt.

He softly shut the bathroom door and stood in front of her. He gently grabbed her arms, his calloused and warm hands flush against her skin as he pulled her arms away from her middle.

“God, sweetheart, you have no reason to be so worried,” Bruce assured as he held her arms so that she couldn’t put them back.

“Well, I do,” she bit.

“Why would you think that I would judge you for your appearance?” Bruce asked, his blue eyes meeting her own.

“You’ve been with models before, Bruce.” Y/N softly explained as she looked away from him, “you’ve been with models before and I’m nowhere near their size—.”

Ah, so that’s the issue. Bruce thought to himself.

He cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him, and when she did, their eyes met once more. “You really think I care about some model? I was only ever with them for appearances. I would rather have a curvy, real woman any day of the week.”

Y/N’s eyes still held so much insecurity, but she would be lying if she said his words didn’t affect her some.

“Do you think I’m lying to you?” Bruce asked. “That my words are just empty and not genuine, sweetheart?”

“N-No,” she softly replied with a stutter. “I know you’re telling the truth.”

“Then why do you still look unsure?”

“Cuz I don’t like how I look in this bathing suit,” Y/N admitted. “I bought a black one and it’s pretty…but I’m not pretty enough for it.”

“Sweetheart,” Bruce murmured, his voice soft and calming. “You’ve been nothing but beautiful to me, in every way, since we met. Don’t you understand?”

“I’m sorry. I’m ruining our trip by being stupid—.”

“—You haven’t ruined anything.” Bruce insisted as he let go of her chin and moved his hands down to her waist, pulling her closer to him. “But if you don’t believe me, I could always show you just how beautiful you really are.” He then smirked, “I bet if I did that, then you’d never be insecure again.”

→Dick

“Babe, we’re going to the beach!” Dick declared with a bright and cheerful smile.

That was what he said when he arrived home from patrol one night at 3AM. Honestly, Y/N thought he was joking when she saw him enter the window, his arm all bloody and cut up from a street fight while she laid curled up in bed and on her phone.

But no, it wasn’t a joke. Apparently Barbara had mentioned something about the beach for one of the missions, and Dick had the bright idea to turn the mission into a vacation. He would vacay while on the job. It all works out!

So with Barbara’s help, she booked the nicest place that money could afford for just the two of them. One could call it romantic, but this was still a work trip after all.

But for now that could be pushed aside since it was the last thing on Y/N’s mind. She currently stood in the hotel bathroom staring at her reflection in the mirror. She bought a new bathing suit a few years ago since she liked it at the time, however, she hadn’t tried it on since she bought it, and now she was regretting it.

Why did her stomach look like that? Since when did her hips dip so deep? And the stretch marks? And—.

“If you’re thinking you look awful, I disagree.” Dick said as he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “I think you look beautiful, sweetheart.”

Y/N jumped at the voice in the doorway, “don’t scare me like that, Dick!”

A boyish smirk appeared on Dick’s face as he pushed off the door frame and stood behind his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You were taking too long. Don’t blame me. But seriously babe, you look great.”

“Easy for you to say,” Y/N huffed in annoyance as she melted against his chest. “You look pretty regardless of what you’re wearing.”

“You’re gonna make me blush,” Dick lightly teased as he placed his chin on her shoulder. He could feel the nerves radiating off her body, and it only made him more concern than he was before. “Babe,” he lightly kissed her shoulder, “are you okay?”

“Is this the part where I lie or..?”

“The truth, please.”

With a sigh, Y/N told him. “I don’t like how I look in this. I feel ugly.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Dick asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Sweetheart, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N looked at him through the mirror with narrow eyes and annoyance, “and how many girls have you said that to? Cuz last I checked, your track record for a committed relationship was low.”

Ow, okay, that one hurt. But he couldn’t really deny her comment considering this seemed to be the only relationship so far that felt real and genuine (well, maybe outside of his relationship with Barbara).

“I won’t lie, you’re right. But I genuinely mean what I say, regardless of my past,” Dick replies. “I’ve had my fair share of relationships in the past, and I won’t deny it. But what we have feels right…none of the others compare to you.” Dick looked at Y/N through the reflection of the mirror, their eyes meeting as his blue ones took in the insecurity in her eyes. “Sweetheart, you look amazing, and I mean it.”

Y/N gently placed a hand over top Dick’s hands that were still wrapped around her waist. “It feels right to me too.”

Dick’s smile widened as she saw the insecurity and doubt seemingly melt away, and become replaced with a sense of security and comfort. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Dick spun her around to face him. “Now, how about we hit the beach?” He asked, his hands unwrapping from her waist to grab her hand. “Unless you wanna forfeit the beach and stay in and do something else.”

→Jason

Why had he let her drag him to this place to begin with? Oh right, he was hopelessly in love with Y/N, that’s why.

For the last month and a half Y/N had been bringing up the beach. It started in passing, just randomly bringing it up in conversation. But then Y/N started showing him pictures of her friends who had gone to the beach already. But the real convincing point was when she told him she’d be wearing a bathing suit.

Yeah, alright, that made him cave.

Listen, he didn’t mean to be like every other man out there who was persuaded by the idea of their partner in a bathing suit. But what choice did he have when Y/N never wore tight clothes and never showed off her body? He’d take his chances when he gets it.

The only bad part was his job as the Red Hood, that part proved to be the most difficult. But if Y/N wanted a beach trip, she’d get a beach trip. He’d just have to sit there and complain about not being on patrol and killing people.

Y/N stood in the bathroom staring over her reflection as she wore a bathing suit in his color, red. It was a bit too revealing for her taste, but Jason had chosen it for her and she wasn’t about to tell him no. It was the only way he agreed to come after all.

A soft knock sounded at the door, “doll, is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah!” Y/N lied as she grabbed her black jacket that sat on the sink counter that she was wearing earlier. “Be out in a minute!” She slipped her jacket on and zipped it up before walking out of the bathroom.

He stood in the middle of the room, his green eyes landing on her covered body. “What’s up with the jacket?”

“I’m cold,” Y/N said.

“There’s no way you are when you took it off as soon as we got here.” Jason stated, “so what’s the real reason?”

“Like I said,” Y/N sniffled. “Cold.”

“Liar. Let me see the bathing suit,” Jason quickly demanded. “Otherwise, I will tear that jacket off you myself.”

Not wanting to make the situation any worse, Y/N obeyed and unzipped the jacket. The black coat slipped from her shoulders, down her arms, and then to the floor beneath them. Now left in a red bikini that barely covered any skin—she felt exposed.

Jason’s eyes roamed her body that was clad in his color. He took in the way the material hugged her curves, made her skin appear brighter, and every inch of the exposed.

“You were hiding this from me the whole time?” Jason asked.

He had seen her body before, of course he had, multiple times in fact. But her wearing a bikini in his color? Yeah, it was doing something to him.

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself as if she was trying to hide her form from the world. “Can I put the jacket back on?”

“Don’t you dare put that jacket back on.”

“Jason, I-I feel like I’m wearing nothing,” Y/N uncomfortably admitted.

“That’s the point,” Jason retorted. “You’re my girlfriend and I wanna see every part of you.”

“But this seems…weird…”

“Babe, half those girls out there are wearing a lot less than you. Honestly, you’re more covered than they are,” Jason stated.

“And I’m sure they’re not insecure about their bodies either,” Y/N snapped.

Jason’s hard demeanor softened at the insecurity in her voice. He knew that he had to put his boyish ideas aside and help his girl out, and so he gently took her hand in his. His cold body always sent a shiver down her warm one. “Doll, you’ve got no reason to be insecure. I’ve seen this body before, it’s beautiful, and there’s no reason to hide it.”

“Of course there is,” Y/N said. “I’m bloated so my stomach is sticking out a little, my boobs look weird and—.”

He put a hand over her mouth.

“Do I need to sit here and list every single god damn reason why you’re perfect? Cuz I can.”

A muffled ‘no’ sounded from under Jason’s hand.

“Then listen to me…you look great. Hot even. Really hot.” Jason paused for a moment before continuing, “yeah, and I should have picked something a bit more moderate for you. That’s on me. I’m sorry.”

Y/N eyes softened at his apology. Was he really apologizing for giving her a revealing bathing suit?

He then removed his hand from her mouth, “but if you really wanna cover up your body…then I’ll let you.”

→Tim

It was rare for Y/N’s boyfriend to get out of Gotham due to his vigilante adventures. So when her friends had asked her to tag along for their couples beach trip that year, she asked her boyfriend to come along.

He immediately agreed on the account that something bad could happen to her. She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but she assumed he was talking about his jealousy and the fact other boys would be there.

Y/N knew her boyfriend could be possessive and mostly obsessive at times, so she kept your mouth shut cuz he actually agreed to come.

When they arrived at the beach, everyone was immediately put off by Tim. It wasn’t that he was a walking red flag (though pretty much all the Wayne wards were), but the way he seemed to talk for Y/N. She didn’t think anything of it since her boyfriend knew her better than she knew herself.

So when the time rolled around for all of them to head out to the beach side, and Y/N realized she forgot to pack her bathing suit? Tim shoved a green one in her direction and pushed her into the bathroom to change.

The bathing suit fit like a glove, like it was made for her specifically. And while it was nice material, comfortable and a pretty shade of green, Y/N wondered how Tim even knew she had forgotten it. There was something a bit…unsettling about it.

“Tim, how did you know I left my bathing suit at home?” Y/N asked him, slipping on a pair of flip flops as she grabbed her sunglasses from her bag.

“Oh, I purposely took it out before we left.” Tim nonchalantly replied, “I thought you’d like this one more.”

“Wait, you did what now—?”

Tim was calm, collected and nonchalant about the whole ordeal. It wasn’t all that surprising, but he just causally took your original bathing suit out of your bag and packed this one instead?

“Well I assumed that the other one would be uncomfortable since the top had a wire support. I know that you’re not a fan of wired bras, so I simply switched it out for you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Tim, that’s an invasion of privacy.”

Tim gave Y/N an almost innocent look, but judging by the small smirk on his face? Yeah, he was amused. “Privacy?” He questioned, “when you found out about my vigilance you practically gave it up.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “are you still watching me while on patrol?!” She exclaimed, covering her torso with her arms. “I told you it was creepy and to stop!”

“I gave it up for…a while,” Tim states. “But how else am I supposed to make sure that you’re safe? We live in Gotham. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t keep an eye out for you?”

“Tim, there’s a big difference between looking out for me because my life could be in danger, and simply stalking me.” Y/N groans, “and judging by how you snuck out my other bathing suit for this one…I’m going with the latter.”

“I disagree.” Tim stubbornly says. “You’re not very good at packing clothes for trips. You always forget your hair brush, and you forgot to pack a hoodie that one time you were going to the mountains with your parents—I’m doing you a favor honestly.”

“And how is changing out my bathing suit a ‘favor?’ I liked that other one,” Y/N asked as she crossed her arms. “Regardless of the wire.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The other one would have pinched your skin and make you uncomfortable within the hour. And please don’t argue with me. I know more about bras than you do.”

“Tim…what the hell?”

Tim scoffed, “I’m just looking out for your comfort.”

“By being weird.”

“No, it’s called being considerate.” Tim corrects, “and the other boys are just going to drool over you and so I switched out your bathing suits for comfort, and to make sure that nobody is staring at you but me.”

In a weird way, Tim was just stating that he was jealous.

“So once again, you’re welcome.”

“No wonder my friends think you’re a creep,” Y/N sighed out.

Tim grabbed her hand and began to drag her out of their shared hotel room, “let them.”

→Damian

It was Y/N’s idea to have a fun filled summer with her new boyfriend of two months. Y/N and Damian were both young, but both acted like they had been dating for years. It was finally the summer between school years, and Y/N’s family always went on a yearly beach trip.

Y/N had begged her parents to let Damian come along, and they happily agreed since they wanted to meet him. Damian on the other hand, did not want to go. But Bruce practically shoved him out the house and told him: “go act like a regular kid your age.”

So here he was…shoved into the back row of Y/N’s parent’s mini van with her, his arms crossed and an annoying look on his face. He would rather be back in Gotham fighting crime than stuck in some van with people he didn’t like—but if they were going to be his future family members, he’d suck it up…kinda.

It was day one of the beach trip and Y/N was in the bathroom looking over how she looked in her new bathing suit. She bought a new one to match Damian’s dark aesthetic of black, red and grey since her own were full of bright colors. But in her mind, she didn’t suit the darker shades and it only made her feel bad about herself.

Why had she bought a new one anyway? It wasn’t like Damian was going to care if she matched him or not.

“You are taking too long. I am coming in,” Damian bluntly announced as he threw open the bathroom door. “Why are you just standing there?” He asked, his eyes landing on her exposed body.

“Damian!” Y/N exclaimed with flushed cheeks as she quickly grabbed a towel from off the shelf to cover herself. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?!”

“I thought it was unnecessary. We are dating.”

“But what if I was naked?!” Y/N continued.

Damian’s cheeks flushed in realization that: one, she could have been naked and this situation could have been totally different. And two, she was wearing nothing but her one piece bathing suit.

He quickly looked away, “apologies.”

“You think?!”

“I was growing impatient,” Damian admits with his eyes still focusing away from her towel covered body. “What was taking you so long?”

“Girl stuff.”

“That entails..?”

“Staring at myself in the mirror with disgust.”

Damian quickly looked back at Y/N, completely disregarding the fact she only wore a towel and her bathing suit. “Who put that idea in your head? Your mother? I will go and talk to her, and if she does not understand, then I shall kill her—.”

“Damian, don’t kill my mom. She didn’t do anything,” Y/N says. “It’s me. I’m doing it.”

“Why do it then?” Damian asked.

Y/N flushed and dropped the towel from around her body, “it’s this bathing suit. I-I asked my mom to help me pick one out that complimented you more a-and I think I look stupid in it and—.”

“—You did not need to buy a dark color bathing suit to please me, habibti. I do not understand why you would go out of your way when I like you how you are already. I assume you packed a regular one. Shall I get it for you?”

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thy-valhallen · 1 year ago

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i like the idea that it's understood in the Batfam that Bruce has a favorite but no one's really sure who it is-- all of them have their own guesses, and it's never themselves (except Steph, who's here to laugh at their theories)

Dick is convinced it's Jason because of how he saw Jason's death destroy Bruce-- like, he knows Bruce would cry for all of them, mourn and all, but... well, he's pretty convinced Jason had a spot in their dad's heart a bit bigger than they did

Jason, if asked, will swear to hell and back it's Dick-- the Golden Boy, the perfect son, the one he had to compare himself to growing up. Secretly though? he thinks it's Tim. Tim, the best detective of all of them, the steadfast kid who stepped in to fix everything without the slightest bit of thanks or appreciation, the nerd who dedicated himself to their crusade with nothing to gain from it. who wouldn't favor that kid??

Tim has known since the first picture he ever took of Batman and Robin who the favorite was, and has never wavered. Dick Grayson, his first son, the one who's pain was reflected so sharply back at him in a twisted mirror that he had to take the kid in-- Dick was the one to bring the Dark Knight to life in the daytime. Dick is his everything-- the boy he loved enough to slow in his life's work to help. Tim was certainly never worth the time, but Dick? Dick is impossible not to love, and to love Dick Grayson is to love with your whole chest

Cass bases her guess off of Bruce's body language, not Batman's, and for that, she thinks it's Duke. Duke is softer than the rest of them, less sharp edges from a childhood shaped by misery or death, and Bruce is less of a drill sergeant with him for it. after all, Duke doesn't struggle with directions like the rest of the Batfam (he so does, he's just the best at hiding it), so he gets less of the terrified, furious leader and more of the tired, worried dad

Damian has no doubt in his mind it's Cass-- at first, because she's the best fighter, and therefore most deserving. she's far more skilled after all, so in this insane family where adopted children upend the hierarchy he knows, it must be dictated by skill, no? no, actually. but then, he sees how Bruce doesn't yell at her, the implicit trust he has in his daughter. the way that they're so very in-tune with one another, it's like looking at a man and his shadow. Cass has to be the favorite, because no one else can look him in the eyes with the same sort of heartbreak he has and comfort him without a word

Duke was an only child before joining the Waynes, so it was a shock to suddenly see sibling favoritism so blatantly when Bruce so carefully and kindly talked Damian down from a rant about his classmates in the middle of patrol. no one else would've been allowed to talk about something so personal and revealing on a Gotham rooftop. it was just continually proven from there; shoulder pats and hair ruffles answered with little scowls, utterances of "son" that were lost to shuffling capes and tiny smiles tucked away in darkness

#dc #dc comics #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #damian al ghul #duke thomas #i don't have a good way to end this honestly #i'm not sure who bruce's favorite is #i'm just sure he has one #but let me just say #i really do stan girldad bruce wayne

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jellyfishsthings · 1 month ago

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The Equation of Distraction

navigation , dc navigation

WARNINGS: none really

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

Dick Grayson wasn’t used to competing for attention. Not in the way that actually mattered.

Sure, in the field, he competed with Bruce for control. With Jason, for who could kick in a door with more dramatic flair. With Damian, for sheer stubbornness. But when it came to relationships—real ones, ones with something soft and sacred curled at the center—he had always been attentive. Loving. Present.

So how the hell did he find himself third-wheeling to his own girlfriend, Tim, and a whiteboard full of integrals?

"Okay, stop. Stop right there," you said, stepping between Tim and the tangle of numbers he’d just scrawled. You were wearing one of Dick’s old hoodies, hair twisted into a bun, marker ink on your fingertips.

Tim leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed behind his glasses. "What? That’s the limit of the function as x approaches negative infinity."

"It should be," you said, tapping the board, "but this entire partial fraction decomposition is botched. You factored wrong."

Tim blinked. “I did?”

Dick, sprawled on the living room couch and pretending to read a book, smirked to himself. “Rookie mistake.”

You didn’t look away from the whiteboard. “Grayson, don’t snipe from the peanut gallery unless you want to solve this integral by hand.”

Dick shut his mouth.

Tim looked victorious. Dick glared.

The first time you met the family, you accidentally corrected Bruce on a quantum theory reference.

He had blinked at you.

You had flushed.

Alfred had smiled very faintly into his tea.

Dick, meanwhile, had fallen in love a little harder.

You were brilliant. Not just brilliant, but terrifyingly multidisciplinary brilliant. You knew literature and physics and evolutionary biology, and spoke with the unshakeable confidence of someone who had once gotten into an argument with a professor and emerged victorious.

You didn’t brag. You were just curious. A sponge for information. You asked questions and listened to the answers. And somehow, in a household full of detective minds and vigilante instincts, you were still the smartest person in the room.

So when Tim, swamped with his joint MIT-Gotham U coursework, mentioned offhandedly that he was struggling with differential equations, you offered to help.

Dick hadn’t realized what a tactical error that would be.

Then came Damian.

The kid walked in on one tutoring session, glanced at the diagrams you were sketching, and said, “That’s wrong.”

You turned, brow arched. “Excuse me?”

"The mitosis illustration. You’re using a generalized mammalian model. That isn’t accurate for marsupial chromosomes."

You blinked once. Slowly. “Are you studying marsupial mitosis in school right now?”

Damian scowled. "No. I already completed the human unit. I'm reading ahead."

Tim didn’t even look up. “He’s trying to skip grades again.”

You tapped your pen against the diagram, thinking. Then you shifted a few lines, adjusted a chromatid angle, and said, “There. Better?”

Damian squinted. “Acceptable.”

And that was that.

He joined the study sessions.

Suddenly, Dick’s evenings with you turned into academic triage.

Tim asked about imaginary numbers. Damian demanded enzyme pathways. You, looking entirely unbothered, juggled both while sipping lukewarm tea and wearing your glasses slightly crooked.

It was like watching a goddess of learning hold court.

And Dick? Dick got to sit there, watching you solve everyone else’s problems, while his half-written texts and longing stares went unanswered.

He tried not to pout.

It didn’t work.

The next Friday, Dick walked into the manor living room with takeout and three movies tucked under his arm. He had plans. Cozy night. Cuddles. Maybe make-out session #437.

Instead?

He found you, Tim, and Damian on the floor, surrounded by papers. You had a biology model of a nephron drawn across two pieces of poster board.

Dick stared.

You looked up. "Hey, love. You want to quiz Damian on the loop of Henle while I explain countercurrent multiplication?"

He dropped the takeout. "Absolutely not."

You blinked.

Tim smirked. Damian looked smug.

Dick folded his arms. “Babe, I love you. But I am not quizzing a fourteen-year-old on renal function on a Friday night.”

"Fifteen," Damian muttered.

You smiled sweetly. "We’ll be done soon. I promise."

Dick sulked off into the kitchen.

Alfred found him twenty minutes later, brooding into a cup of tea.

"Something the matter, Master Richard?"

Dick sighed. "She's supposed to be my girlfriend, not the tutor of every prodigy in this house."

Alfred didn’t flinch. "You are, perhaps, experiencing what Master Timothy and Master Damian have often felt about you."

Dick blinked. "What?"

"You have a history of... commanding attention."

Dick opened his mouth. Closed it. "Damn it."

Alfred handed him a second cup. "Jealousy, in moderation, is a sign of attachment. I suggest you redirect it.”

Dick took a breath. Sipped. Nodded.

Then promptly marched back into the living room.

"Alright, nerds. Move over."

You glanced up, amused. "Joining us after all?"

He plopped down beside you, tugging you into his lap. “No, I’m kidnapping my girlfriend."

Tim: “Rude.”

Damian: “Good riddance.”

Dick ignored them. Nuzzled into your neck. "Tell the mitochondria to wait."

You laughed. Warm and real. "That was biology. We're doing organ systems now."

"Whatever it is, it can survive without you for one hour."

You looked at him, eyes soft. "Are you jealous, Nightwing?"

"Me? Jealous? Never. Just asserting my dibs."

Tim made a gagging noise. Damian threw a pen.

You kissed him.

The study session ended shortly after.

And if Dick helped grade practice tests with glitter pens the next day just to feel useful? Well. No one had the heart to mention it.

Not even Tim.

(Okay, Tim did take a picture. But he sent it only to Kon, and Dick pretended not to notice.)

Eventually, things settled.

Tutoring became once a week. You started leaving time just for Dick. You told him how much you loved his patience, how good he was with his family, how your favorite part of the week was still movie night with him.

You even let him teach you something, once—acrobatics, on the mats in the cave. You fell on your ass laughing, legs tangled with his, and kissed him like you didn’t need textbooks to understand what you had.

And for once, Dick Grayson didn’t mind not being the smartest person in the room.

Not when he got to be yours.

#dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson #nightwing x you #nightwing fluff #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you

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timmydraker · 10 months ago

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CW: use of R word

Tim who, as much as he doesn’t want it to be true, is a poster boy for typical Neurodivergence. He’s more logically thinking that emotionally and needs obvious signs of someone’s emotional state that he can put together to understand how he should respond to help them.

But that’s not what bothers him because that doesn’t bother his parents.

Instead it’s his passion, though not in technology and detective work as they quickly found use for that in their business, but for bugs.

Ever since he was a kid Tim has been enamoured by insects and arachnids and even fungi. He would only read books that talked about bugs or had one on the cover, but since it helped him learn to read at a steady pace his parents didn’t mind.

At least, not at first.

When Tim got into coding just so he could make his own little web-journal for all his bug finds, they were happy he was learning how to organise and structure at just six years old, but when he only did those things regarding bugs…

Tim had his first panic attack when he watched his father pick up his terrarium filled with Diapheromera Femorata (Stick bugs) and chucked it into the bin. The glass shattered as the corner his something hard and he was forced to watch his bugs struggle to navigate the glass and rubbish, most of them injured.

His mother had gagged when she saw them and demanded the whole bin be burnt with the bugs still inside.

Tim had been so heart broken, but mostly confused. His parents traveled the world to dig up dirt and old items that were mostly the same yet they didn’t like bugs?

When he asked one his Nanny’s she gave him an answer that he would never forget, “Well, you see… only those people like bugs, y’know? The… special ones, like re-“

Tim never even let himself think of the last word she spoke and from then only forced himself to only focus on his computer work. He still loved photography but now he took photos of skylines and trees, not the beautiful beehive a few yards behind his house or the spider webs that sat between branches like art works. He took photos of Batman and Robin and for a long time that was enough to make his longing bearable.

If he still followed several pages and articles about bugs either a secret email account, that didn’t matter.

His parents were happy with him even if they still made remarks about his ‘stupid little fixation’.

It’s when they are going over the paper work for Bruce to be Tim’s legal guardian while they weren’t home with Tim’s older brothers hanging around as moral support (bodyguards) that his parents mock him.

Janet is signing some paper with a stupidly expensive pen and chatting to no one in particular when she says, “You’re all lucky we killed this nasty little bugs of his so you don’t have to deal with them.”

Everyone else in the room freezes, beside Jack who huffs a laugh and adds, “Good thing we did, he’d probably be more of a retard otherwise- talking about ‘habitats’ and bloody spiders.”

All of the members of the Wayne family are dead quiet as Tim sits there with a clear look of disassociation coming into his eyes. Alfred has a calm look on his face that tells all who know him that he’s furious and Bruce is strikingly similar.

Jason looks ready to attack and Dick isn’t even moving to stop his brother or calm anyone down.

Damian is holding onto Titus’s collar like a lifeline but seems to give the hound some kind of silent order as the usually calm dog begins to growl low and dangerous.

Jack and Janet tense and stare at both dog and master, Jack ordering him to control his dog.

Bruce stands, letting Titus growl and taking the half signed papers and throwing them in the bin, “I changed my mind, I will be taking you to court for full custody of my son. Leave my house now so I may obtain a restraining order.”

Janet genuinely flounders for a moment and begins to shout about outrage and audacity but when Dick sees that Tim is starting to cry he stands up and reminds them that he is a cop before moving to pick up his second youngest brother and leaving the room.

Tim doesn’t hear much else, only muffled shouting and the sound of a door slamming.

He distantly realises he’s in the family room, not the one they use to have guest but the real one with beanbags and a snack draw, and is being cradled by his brothers. Even Damian is beside him, holding onto his hand tightly as they wait for Bruce and Alfred.

Tim sobs into Dicks chest for Alamos a whole hour before settling more, Bruce coming into the room and Jason and Dick reluctantly hand him over to he can be held by their father.

“Tim, chum, it’s alright. We’ve got you.”

The boy in question shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t talk about the bugs I promise-“

Bruce squeezes him tighter and kisses his head, “I don’t want that. What I want is to hear about your bugs.”

Stunned, Tim looks up at him with confusion and barely gets his mouth to move enough to ask what he means.

Dick coos from beside him on the next couch and runs a hand through his hair lovingly, “My sweet baby brother we love you, and you love bugs! So of course we want to hear about it. I’m so sorry we didn’t know how they had been treating you but it was wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you, I swear it.”

Tim sniffled, nodding absentmindedly. They gave him a moment for their words to sink in before Damian spoke up, “Timothy, I demand you tell me about your bugs.”

Jason makes a noise and elbows Damian as if to tell him to shut up, probably thinking the other was being rude, but Tim knows his brother well and just smiles. “I can do that, Dami. I… I don’t think you’ll be very interested though.”

Damian scoffs, “I will ignore that statement as it implies I would waste my time with something I don’t care for.”

Bruce smiles at his youngest and holds Tim’s hand, “I agree. Could you maybe tell us about why you like them? Or your favourites?”

It takes him a moment to respond, but when he looks at all their open expressions and gets an encouraging nod from Alfred, he stutters out a response before gradually gaining confidence as they ask genuine questions to his facts and descriptions.

They each make an effort to ask him about bugs, Jason asking a few times if he wants to check out some books that he knows use bugs as symbolism’s and Dick asking if he can tell him the difference between insects and arachnids several times. Damian and Bruce are both a bit more subtle with their support at first, but after a month Tim enters his room to find a giant terrarium with several different sections so he can have multiple bugs that might not get along with each other.

Bruce and Alfred don’t even make any comments or give disapproving looks when Dick and Jason reveal they each got a tattoo of the bug that Tim said he associates with them.

#batfam #tim drake #bat family #dc comics #batfamily #dc universe #tim drake is red robin #dc #tim drake is a menace #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #autistic tim drake #bugs

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petalbcrnes · 1 month ago

Text

❀﹒﹒⇅﹒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐃𝐀𝐘﹒∿

⤷ 🥝 ﹒ the bat-boys taking care of you when you’re sick !!

　　﹕ (✿˘͈ᵕ˘͈) ┈ #directory #rules .

　　┊ ♡ ﹒ my throat hurt this morning and all i wanted to do was curl up in small ball and sleep all day,,, but alas i have exams :⁠-⁠( i managed to write general hcs for the bat-boys today <3 i use medicine jargon here, i’m not sure it’s correct so don’t get mad at me </3 i tried to use as many sources as i could.

↦ ⟡ ∬ incl ﹒ jason, dick, damian, tim & duke.

❛ ꜝ ┈ ✺ cw ﹒ sfw all the way. of course there is being sick described and also some prescriptions + meds.

𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀You’re sick with a nasty cold that’s left you feeling miserable and exhausted. What started as a scratchy throat yesterday has turned into full-blown congestion, aches, and that foggy-headed feeling that makes even watching TV seem like too much effort. You’ve been trying to tough it out, but when your boyfriend finds out you’re unwell, he immediately springs into action. ✶

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 ︶︶

Panics internally but tries to play it cool externally. Jason’s top priority is you and your comfort. The moment he hears your sniffles and coughs a switch is flipped in his brain. Getting sick is not something to freak out about— he knows that, but he just can’t help but worry so much.

Googles your symptoms obsessively and convinces himself you’re dying three separate times. He’s surfing the web for any kind of information to make you feel better. He mjght freak himself out a little by the information he finds, but for you he tells himself to get jt together.

Shows up with comfort food from your favorite places instead of medicine. Not that he doesn’t understand the importance of taking the correct medication. He just wants you to feel comfortable while recovering.

┄　🗨️　So I got your favorite soup, some of those crackers you like, and—... okay, I may have bought out the entire bakery section because I didn’t know what you’d want.

Reads to you in his deep, soothing voice until you fall asleep. You might have mentioned how his voice helps you relax. He remembers everything you tell him so he tries to use every way to soothe you— one of them being his voice. He’ll have his hand softly caressing you to bring you comfort as well.

Hovers awkwardly because he wants to help but doesn't want to overwhelm you. He’s trying. He really is. To Jason, all of this is fairly new— the domestic feeling of making someone tea to warm them up, tucking them in bed and checking their temperature. It’s new territory in the relationship.

Makes surprisingly good tea because Alfred taught all the boys basic care skills. Even if Jason might lack skill in making more detailed and harder dishes, simple tea he can do.

He gets in contact with Alfred. Jason asks him for advice— which blend of tea should he use? Any particular medicine he should buy? Alfred indulges him. It’s all very soft.

Jason gets genuinely upset that he can’t fight your illness for you. He’s used to dealing with his problems quickly and efficiently. Now he needs patience. It’s all different with you. He cant afford to have you in any more discomfort.

┄　🗨️　I just—... I hate that you’re hurting and I can’t do anything about it. I can fight criminals but I can’t punch a virus.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 ︶︶

Goes full mother hen mode and calls in sick to work immediately. Detective Grayson? Oh, he’s not available. Nightwing? He’s getting someone else to protect Blüdhaven tonight. You need him right now and he’s not leaving.

Shows up with half of CVS pharmacy because he wasn’t sure what kind of sick you were. He’s making sure he has all the medicine you need. He buys all sorts of medicinal tea blends— even though those test awful, he’s reminding you how much you need it and how it’ll help you recover.

┄　🗨️　Okay, I got DayQuil, NyQuil, regular Tylenol, extra strength Tylenol, throat lozenges, and—... wait, do you think you need a humidifier?

Attempts to make chicken soup from scratch despite never cooking anything more complex than cereal. Listen, he’s trying. Trying so hard for you.

┄　🗨️　The recipe says 'simmer gently' but I don't know what that means so I just... made it really hot? Why is it bubbling like that?

Keeps checking your temperature every twenty minutes “just to be sure.” He’s always near you, hovering over you and watching every twitch and move.

Insists on helping you move or just straight up carrying you everywhere, even just to the bathroom, because “you need to conserve energy.”

┄　🗨️　No, no, don’t get up! I’ll carry you. What if you get dizzy? What if you fall? I’m not risking it.

Puts on your favorite comfort movies but talks through all of them because he’s worried about you. He wants you to distract yourself from the sickness. At the same time his anxiety is through the roof. To calm down he talks to you.

Tucks you in so tightly you can barely move, claiming it's “maximum comfort optimization.” You’ll look like those blanket burritos after he’s done.

Texts the family group chat asking for medical advice and gets 47 different contradictory responses. Gives up and just calls Alfred or Bruce.

Falls asleep sitting up in a chair next to your bed because he refuses to leave your side.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ︶︶

Damian might be more reserved when it comes to freely showing his feelings, but in this situation he’s not afraid to show how much he cares. It all comes naturally to him— he knows every step he needs to take to make sure you are recovering.

Brings you homemade remedies that are actually surprisingly effective. He made them himself. His knowledge of medicine might surprise you a little.

┄　🗨️　This is a traditional remedy. Not only does it taste good, it is affective as well. No, you don’t get to refuse it.

Sits stiffly in a chair nearby, claiming he’s “just reading” but clearly watching you. You feel his gaze. It’s like a comforting blanket.

┄　🗨️　I’m not ‘hovering,’ I’m simply ensuring you follow proper recovery steps. There’s a difference

Alfred the cat somehow ends up curled up with you because Damian thinks pets are therapeutic. He’d let Titus join in too, but the bed’s getting a little crowded. He leaves Titus with you, trusting him to be on alert.

Makes you traditional healing teas his mother taught him about. For example: Chamomile (bābūnaj) for reducing stress and anxiety, alleviating pain and discomfort, and also improving sleep and insomnia; Cardamom (hāl) is said to help digestion and increase saliva flow. Pretty expensive as well. But only the best for you.

He makes you get-well cards but leaves them on your nightstand without saying anything. Listen, he’s showing you his affection for you in everyway. Plus, the cards are beautifully done.

Insists you follow his very specific recovery regimen because “I know what's best.” He’s well versed in this type of situation and knows how to help best.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐓𝐈𝐌 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄 ︶︶

Creates a detailed spreadsheet of your symptoms, medications, and recovery timeline. He has everything planned out. A little overboard, but still collected about it all.

┄　🗨️　Your fever peaked at 38.6°C at 3:47 AM but it’s down to 38.1°C now, which suggests the acetaminophen is working effectively.

Sets seventeen different alarms to remind you to take medicine, drink water, eat, etc. He understands if you feel to tired for it all, but he still reminds you the importance of it all and is right next to you everytime you take your medication.

Researches your illness so thoroughly he could write a medical paper about it. Tim is already smart. He’s even more invested in this topic because it concerns you.

┄　🗨️　So, I’ve cross-referenced your symptoms with twelve medical databases and created an optimal recovery schedule. Medicine every four hours, fluids every thirty minutes. Seems easy enough.

Brings his laptop to work from your bedside so he can monitor you constantly. He’ll work while keeping an eye on you.

Orders everything you could possibly need online for same-day delivery. He’s making sure you two have everything. Nothing is overlooked.

Makes you the perfect cup of tea/coffee because he’s memorized exactly how you like it.

Tries to stays up all night watching you sleep to make sure you’re breathing okay. He does fall asleep, of course. It’s endearing, but it worries you because he might not be getting enough sleep. He relents after you ask him to rest.

Documents everything “for future reference” in case you get sick again. He’s making sure the two of you are 100% ready to take care of eachother if any of you get sick again.

┄　🗨️　what if I miss something important? What if you get worse because I wasn’t paying attention?

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐃𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 ︶︶

Brings sunshine energy to your sick day, literally and figuratively. He’s probably the most collected bat-boy in this situation alongside Damian. He’s not freaking out. He knows you need him right now.

Shows up with your favorite comfort snacks and a playlist of feel-good movies. Your comfort is number one on his list of his so called ‘very affective recovery plan.’

┄　🗨️　I brought comedies, but also some documentaries in case you want something low-key. And snacks! Lots of snacks.

Uses his light powers to create soft, warm lighting that doesn’t hurt your head. His light feels so warm and soft. It isn’t too much. It’s just the right amount.

┄　🗨️　I can adjust the lighting if it’s too bright. Perks of dating someone with light powers, right?

Tells you funny stories and jokes to keep your spirits up. Makes you laugh even when you feel terrible, which somehow makes you feel better.

┄　🗨️　You laughed! That’s the first time you've smiled all day. See? Laughter really is the best medicine.

Brings you flowers or plants because “they brighten up the room.” In reality he’s the one lighting up the room.

Checks in via text constantly when he can’t be there in person. Feels a little guilty he can’t be with you all the time. The check-ins soothe his worry abit.

Makes sure you’re getting enough vitamin D by opening all the curtains. He’s making sure you’re getting some clean air as well. There’s fresh water by your bedside table all the time.

His genuine concern and sweet nature makes being sick almost worth it. Celebrates with you when you start feeling better like you've won a major victory.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　

﹒ ♪ ┊ INBOX OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

˖ `· . 𓏵 © 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐂𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 don’t use my work without my consent. ... ⏤ㅤ Ⳋ ⊹

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deldaydreams · 4 months ago

Text

Same Old Lie

Warning: Yandere stuff, gender-neutral reader.

-English is my second language so it could be some mistakes.

Summary: You were an anomaly-timeline agent. Your job was to make sure that canon events in your universe happened and to eliminate possible anomalies. But something went wrong. Something that shouldn't have happened in the timeline happened because of you. Because of that, you disappeared and your beloved batfam is going crazy.

A.T.A. stands for Anomaly and Timeline Agency. The agency responsible for the smooth running of every canon event and timeline in the parallel universe. And you were an Anomaly-Timeline agent. Your job was to follow the canon events in your own universe and eliminate possible anomalies. For this reason, you took on a secret identity and became little Bruce Wayne's legal guardian.

Becoming Bruce's legal guardian wasn't that hard. All you had to do was get close to his parents and make a few small changes to their will.

When you first moved to the mansion, Bruce, who had just lost his parents , didn't welcome you well at all. You didn't even want to guess what would have happened if Alfred hadn't intervened.

As I said, Bruce was very difficult towards you at first. He was doing his best to annoy you and drive you away, but over time he started to get used to you.

Maybe you weren't so bad? He stopped ignoring you at the mansion. Insinuating sentences were replaced by harder-to-deal questions. What's your favorite food? What are your hobbies? What kind of movies do you watch?..

Getting close to Bruce had its advantages as well as disadvantages. To put it simply, he would ask so many questions and go into so much detail that it was very difficult not to reveal your true identity.

However, one of the biggest problems was your “business trips”. Whenever you were going to leave the mansion to hunt anomalies or follow up on a canon event, Bruce would make every effort to keep you from leaving the mansion. Your business trips were unnecessary for Bruce. You had to take care of him. That’s why you were here. Besides, he was rich enough to take care of you as well. Why did you always go on business trips? Anyway , every time, he would eventually let you go in return for bringing him a gift from wherever you went.

Time passed. Many things happened . Bruce learned your real name (fortunately, he still didn’t know your duty and job. It’s very hard to hide something from the best detective in the world.) Bruce became Batman (Of course, he explained this to you.) And your first Robin, Dick Grayson, came to the mansion.

Dick has always been a good boy since he met you. The perfect boy who always listens to you and helps you. We can say that you have almost never had any problems with him. Just like Bruce, Dick also knew his limits. The taboos that should never be spoken about. That is why he never questioned why you never aged (Since there are different time streams in different universes, the dimensional travel watch you wear to avoid being affected by the time streams prevents you from aging physically.) or why you constantly go on business trips. Dick trusts his intuition. And his intuition is that you can leave them and disappear at any moment. For this reason, he is very aware of not crossing those limits if he wants to have a happy life with you.

Then came the second Robin Jason Todd. When you first met Jason, he was very cautious towards you. Especially when he saw old photos and realized that you had not aged at all, he was really scared of you. He was harsh and aggressive towards you at first as a self-protective mechanism, but fortunately he opened up to you in time.

When he came back after his death, Jason was naturally angry with you as he was with the whole family. The reason for his anger was your fear of forgetting him. Although he didn't accept it, when he first met you, Jason, who was jealous of your closeness with Dick, had worked very hard to win your favor. Tim's arrival after his death brought this fear to the surface again. He didn't want to be pushed to the background. The loss of those years you could have spent together had deeply affected him. But fortunately, his anger towards you passed when you hugged him and talked to him.

After Jason's death, the third Robin Tim Drake came. It was very difficult to deal with Tim, who was a very good detective like Bruce. The boy would constantly ask you questions or corner you with some of his assumptions. For this reason, you had to be extra careful around him. Whenever you went on a business trip, your bag, shirt, or any of your belongings would definitely have a chip attached to them. Luckily, Alfred, Bruce, and Dick would intervene and this tracking issue didn't go much further. Of course, what Tim did was right from his point of view. Tim, like the others, is aware that you could leave them at any moment. According to him, if they want to keep you with them, they need to know about you, down to the smallest detail. You know everything about them, so why don't they?

Finally, as you expected, the last Robin arrived, Damian Wayne. As you expected, Damian was arrogant, self-important, sarcastic, and made it very clear that he didn't like you, which didn't last long. Although Damian didn't accept it, he quickly got used to your presence and started following you wherever you went like a tail. Damian, who has a very jealous nature, definitely doesn't wants you to give others more attention than you give him, otherwise he would make your whole day miserable. Also, Damian's overly controlling personality made it very difficult for you to do your job. Who do you see? What are you looking at? Where are you going? When will you be back? Damian is worse at tracking than Bruce and Tim, and he doesn't try to hide it. Why are you going on a business trip? The Waynes are very rich. He constantly argues with you about quitting your job. Luckily, the other family members constantly come between you. Or rather, stop Damian.

You leaned yourself against the balcony railing. You were planning on watching the city here until you got caught. You couldn’t escape Bruce’s grasp tonight. He had dragged you to tonight’s gala with him. You sighed. You had escaped from the stifling hall and hid on a small balcony, and Bruce was probably inside looking for you.

“There you are. The fugitive has been found.”

You smiled at the familiar voice. Oops. It seems you were caught. Bruce wrapped his arms around you from behind. He buried his head in your neck.

“I don’t like it when you just disappear. What were you thinking when you left me all alone?” He mumbled.

You held yourself back from laughing and smiled slightly. As you turned your head slightly towards him, you were caught in Bruce’s gaze that drew you in. Those gazes… They made you feel like a predator’s prey. You turned your head back.

“Y/n, no matter what happens, you will always stay by our side, right?” His voice was hoarse. He would ask you this question whenever he felt bad.

“…Of course.” And you told your same old lie again before disappearing.

Notes: it’s messy and I know it. Probably going to make this a series. I hope you like it. And please let me know if you liked it.

#yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batboys #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere dc comics #yandere batman #yandere bruce wayne #yandere batman x reader #yandere nightwing #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere red hood #yandere tim drake #yandere red robin #yandere damian wayne #yandere robin #yandere

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sabrinajenre96 · 2 months ago

Text

"Coming Home"

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Wife!Detective!Reader

Word Count: ~2,000

Genre: Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending

---

The night Tim left, it shattered something in you.

He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t even looked angry. Just distant. Cold. He told you he needed space. That everything—from his past in the military to what happened with Ray—was suffocating him. That he couldn’t be the man you needed him to be. And just like that, he walked out.

You had clutched the small envelope in your hand that night, the one holding the test that changed everything. You were going to tell him he was going to be a father. But he never gave you the chance.

A month passed.

You kept showing up for work, doing your job, pushing through the motions. Lucy stayed by your side. She was the one who held your hand when the morning sickness hit like a wave. The one who helped you keep the secret you had meant to share with your husband—the man who broke your heart.

You still wore your ring, but only when you were alone.

---

Tim was unraveling.

Each day away from you felt like another cut. He thought distance would protect you. He thought he was doing the right thing by shielding you from the weight he still carried, the pain he hadn't processed. But he was wrong.

Angela Lopez let him have it the moment he confessed his regret.

“You left your wife, Tim. The woman who has never given you a reason to doubt her love. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” he admitted, voice hollow. “I panicked. I didn’t know how to deal with the guilt. The nightmares. Ray… everything. I pushed her away thinking I was doing her a favor.”

Angela sighed, softer now. “She’s not okay, Tim. She loves you, but you broke something in her. If you really want her back, you better be ready to fight for her. No lies. No running.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

---

That night, Lucy and Angela told you to dress nice. “We’re taking you out,” they said with those suspiciously innocent smiles.

You didn't expect to be driven to the little bluff overlooking the city, where Tim first asked you out. Where he proposed two years later with shaking hands and a hopeful heart.

“Why are we here?” you asked, heart pounding.

Angela leaned in, kissed your temple. “Just follow the clues.”

And then she and Lucy were gone.

You found the first note on the bench, held down by a photo of you and Tim laughing, heads tilted together, love etched into every line.

“You’re the best decision I ever made.”

The second was near the old oak tree, taped to the trunk.

“I was a fool to think leaving would protect you. All I did was hurt you.”

By the time you found the last one, your hands were trembling. It was clipped to a string of fairy lights he’d strung along the railing—just like the night he proposed.

You turned and saw him.

Tim stood a few feet away, his face open, haunted, hopeful. You froze.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you whispered, turning.

“Wait,” he said, stepping forward. “Please. Don’t go.”

Your breath caught. The ache in your chest pulsed alive again.

“You left me, Tim,” you said, eyes glistening. “You didn’t even let me speak. You just—walked away.”

“I know,” he said, voice rough. “And I’ve regretted it every day since. I was scared. I thought I was protecting you. But I wasn’t. I was protecting myself.”

Your head turned slightly, pain and love warring behind your eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you admitted, voice breaking. “You broke me.”

Then, the nausea came without warning.

You turned, stumbling toward the trash can nearby as your stomach lurched. Tim was beside you in seconds, holding your hair back, rubbing your back, panic on his face.

“Hey, hey. Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

You shook your head, breath still shaky. “No. I know what this is.”

Tim blinked. “What?”

Still hunched slightly, you turned toward him with tear-filled eyes. “I’m pregnant, Tim.”

The world stopped.

His mouth opened slightly, stunned. “What…? Since when?”

Your voice cracked. “The night you left. I was going to tell you that night.”

He closed his eyes, devastated.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You nodded slowly. “I wanted to tell you in a different way. I imagined your smile. Your hands on my belly. I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am happy,” he said quickly, desperately. “I just—I don’t deserve you. But I want to. I want a second chance.”

You were quiet. He took your hand gently.

“I miss you every second. I miss your voice. Your laugh. Our home. You are my home, and I hate what I did to us. I don’t even know why I did it. But I swear to you, I’ll never do it again.”

You looked at him, your expression softening.

“I missed you too.”

Tim exhaled, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“But if you come home, things have to change,” you added, stronger now. “No more secrets. No shutting me out because you think it’s for my own good. I’m not a damsel. I’m your wife. We’re a team.”

He nodded, eyes locked to yours.

“I hear you. I see you. And I swear, I will never put you through that again. I want to be a better man—for you. For our baby.”

You nodded slowly. “Then come home. The house doesn’t feel like ours without you in it. And now we have a baby to think about.”

Tim stepped closer, one hand brushing against your still-flat stomach.

“Our baby,” he murmured in awe.

You placed your hand over his.

“You’re going to be a dad, Tim.”

His eyes filled. “And I swear, I’m going to be the kind of father—and husband—you can rely on.”

You leaned into his chest, heart thudding against his.

“You already are,” you whispered.

And finally, after a month apart, Tim Bradford took his wife in his arms—and this time, he wasn't letting go.

---

End.

#the rookie #the rookie fanfic #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford fanfiction #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford x detective reader #Tim Bradford x detective wife reader

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girlkisser13 · 1 year ago

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dating tim drake would include

• tim is really sweet. he’ll kiss you to welcome you home or say goodbye when he goes out on patrol and he’ll happily carry you to bed if you fall asleep on the sofa and makes sure to tell you that he loves you everyday.

• he hacks your computer sometimes (for good reasons though). like you’ll just turn on your computer/laptop and your background is changed to a picture of you and tim together. <33

• even though everyone knows that you’re dating he still gets quite flustered and is prone to blushing if you call him a pet name in front of others. (you’d definitely do this just to see him blush).

• tim has your coffee order memorized (no matter how complicated it is).

• tim is SUPER clingy when he’s sleepy, like he can be needy and just want to hug and kiss you all the time. they’re kinda sloppy because he’s tired but his lust for affection is still cute.

• he cuddles or hugs you any chance he gets to make up for the many hours he spends on his computer away from you.

• since he’s a detective, he notices every detail including anything off about yourself. if something is wrong he will notice immediately no matter how good you are at hiding it, afterward he’d do pretty much anything to make you feel better. (even leave his computer for a day or so).

• he notices everything about you. favorite flower, favorite color, he always seems to notice that you’re cold even before you do and wraps his jacket around you. that intense focus can be a lot, sometimes, a bit overwhelming even. but at the same time you’re touched that he just seems so interested in everything about you. he wants to learn every last detail about you and is willing to take the time to do so.

• tim works really hard and doesn’t keep regular sleep patterns as a result, which means it’s up to you to make sure he gets proper sleep most of the time. plus, you’re one of the few people he actually listens to since you’re basically his favourite person. <33

• you have to learn most of his sweet spots to use against him whenever you’re trying to drag him away from the computer for a break.

• he remembers important dates even if it’s last minute— he still remembers. anniversaries, birthdays, you name it and if it’s anything to do with you then he’ll remember it and usually buys the best gifts for you.

• he celebrates the most ridiculous anniversaries, and he always remembers them. like, “it’s been one year since the first time you held my hand” or “it’s been a month since we went to that fair and rode the ferris wheel”.

• he lets you play with his hair and it’s so entertaining, he doesn’t mind and finds it relaxing when you run your fingers through it, he always checks to see what he looks like after you’ve styled it whether it be a man bun, ponytail, or braids. you told him that he looked good in a loose ponytail once and you he didn’t take it out for whole day.

• the two of you get take out food at least once a week because tim cannot cook to save his life, he just gets too distracted and the food gets burnt. he will also take time just to eat with you and ask about your day rather than work or will watch tv with you.

• tim LOVES watching detective shows with you but but sometimes it can get annoying because will usually ruin the ending by telling you who the criminal is and the exact reasons for his motives so it’s difficult to ignore the fact he just destroyed the next 45 minutes for you.

• he’s a literal genius so if you need help with anything he is on it, he’s actually written your essays for you before but you know that you couldn’t pass them off as your own because it’s not your writing style and you redo them using his basic ideas. you’re very appreciative of his assistance but tell him he doesn’t need to do that for you. however, he shakes it off as if it was nothing.

• he loves you and your acceptance of his coffee loving and sleep-deprived ways. <33

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l0vergirls · 2 years ago

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just a little something that's been on my mind for a while now, like it's actually rotting my brain.

cw: stalking, a bit nsfw near the end, just general yandere stuff, not proof-read!!!!! so sorry if its a bit messy !!!!

★ (romantic) yandere!batfam x reader

imagine being the shared darling of the batfam.

it only takes one of them for the rest to fall in love with you, too.

let's say you meet tim during one of the days he actually decides to go to class, and he's thanking the heavens he did.

slowly, he starts to integrate himself into your daily life, and into your friend group. they all love him, of course. who wouldn't love the kind, funny, and handsome tim drake?

during all of this, he'd already told his brothers about you, and because they can't hide anything from bruce, he finds out about you too. unsurprisingly, they come to appreciate you as much as tim has.

and suddenly, you get a particularly handsome new neighbour in the apartment across from you (which you didn't know was even up for rent) and somehow always seems to be in the middle of stripping when you're home. almost as if he can feel your eyes on him. of course, you make sure not to get caught, and avert your eyes as soon as the cloth leaves his waist.

later, you find out his name is jason, and make a good friend out of him. he smokes on his balcony, while you drink coffee on yours.

barely a week after that, you get a new regular at the café you work at. his name's dick grayson. he says it's probably best for you to yell out his last name for his orders too. he's a detective, which explains the late nights he comes into the café. he's always got a stupidly handsome smile on his face, which only adds onto his neverending charm.

and during the occasion that you're walking home alone, you always seem to run into one of the many vigilantes that guard gotham.

you meet both batman and robin during one of your walks home. you're not scared of them, as most people are; you're merely fascinated at the tall figure that towers over you, and his more colourful counterpart that is also taller than you. robin seems to be just a couple years younger than you. and batman... you can't seem to get a read on the man.

you greet them both as calmly as you can, a small smile on your lips. you get nods of acknowledgment from both of them, which you suppose is the most you're getting.

batman doesn't seem to like that you're walking alone, so he sends robin to walk you home. you don't understand why, and you tell them you've walked this route many times already, that they probably have worse things to take care of.

he tells you that you can never be too sure in gotham. with the way he says it, in that gravelly tone, you can't find yourself to disagree.

on your walk, now with robin's company, you feel safer. you also find out this robin is a man of few words, very unlike the last few robins yet much like batman.

the next night, you run into red robin, who has an air of familiarity around him. he's real friendly— in fact, it's almost like talking to a friend. you think you've seen his smile before.

the night after that, you meet nightwing in all of his spandex-clad glory. he's charming, almost flirty.

and for a week, you don't bump into any of the vigilantes, but you do feel watched. you should be frightened, by all means, but you have a feeling deep in your stomach that tells you they won't hurt you. whoever they are.

you see red hood after that week. he's the more intimidating one of the bunch, you reckon. you've nothing to be scared of, knowing he (along with all the others) only goes after the real awful people. you're not guilty of anything, as far as you know.

his voice is almost robotic, as if being run through a voice changer. it doesn't do much to help his image, though you suppose that's the point. he asks what a little thing like you is doing walking around these parts. you say you're just heading home, like all the times you've met one of them.

he lets you on his motorcycle. if you were paying enough attention, maybe you would've felt his heart beating a mile a minute.

your days go on like this for a while. class, work, walk home with one of gotham's protectors. rinse and repeat.

unbeknownst to you, cameras have been planted all around your apartment. in many angles of your bedroom too, save for your bathroom. they've decided to give you privacy in there. no matter how much dick begged.

though they do have clips saved of you walking around in just a towel, or your underwear. god knows what they're doing with those.

but truly, can you blame them? you've invaded the deepest crevices of their minds, your smell lingering on their noses, and the shape of your lips following them in their dreams.

oh, they can vividly see— almost feel your lips on theirs, and they wonder what you look like when your face is scrunched up from pleasure, as their fingers enter you.

but they'll have to wait a little longer. and they'll be damned if they lose you, when you're playing right into their hands.

this got so long !!!! i had to let this all out somewhere <//3 definitely gonna add more but i needed to cut it off at this 😭😭😭😭

#might focus on tim's part in all this next time!!!#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere x reader #— dc.#— the bats.#— yan writes.

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 month ago

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Blood-Stained Aisle

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!SAHM(past detective)!r

Summary: One of your cold cases is reopened after an odd incident at a Los Angeles church. You return to the Mid-Wilshire station with your daughter and work alongside your friends, old and new, to solve a case that's haunted you and the city for three years.

Warnings: angst, religious imagery/symbolism, discussions of possession and exorcism, fluff and comfort, blood/murder, Tim gets flirty and soft when he's alone with his wife, r is Baptist and from Alabama and doesn't speak much Spanish but that's the only descriptors used

Word Count: 7.6k+ words, requested

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

You press your foot against your baby’s bassinet as you fold laundry, your eyes moving between your daughter and the documentary playing on television. As you set one of your husband’s shirts aside and reach into the laundry basket, your daughter babbles.

“Really?” you ask, smiling at her. “You think there’s prosecutorial misconduct? I couldn’t agree more. The evidence isn’t there; she’s misleading the jury.”

She laughs, kicking her legs excitedly. You drop the leggings you were folding back into the pile of clean clothes to hold your daughter instead. She looks like her dad, and her interest in - or tolerance of; she’s young, who can tell? - the justice system is inherited from both parents. Her dad is at the police station now, the same place you once called home. When you got pregnant, you retired, opting to take care of your family away from the stress and danger of being a detective. That doesn’t mean you don’t love it anymore, though, and you still take a few calls a month from detectives, answering questions and evaluating hypotheses about open cases.

Your daughter clings to your collar, lying against your chest as you rock her softly. The case in the documentary went cold for seventeen years after the wrong man was convicted, and you help but wonder about the cold cases you left behind. There were only three tucked in your desk drawer when you left on the last day, but they’ll haunt you as long as they remain unsolved.

“Not my priority anymore,” you whisper to your daughter. “You are.”

Someone touches your ankle, drawing you from your peaceful sleep. You blink, surprised to see your husband smiling at you.

“Comfortable?” he asks.

You groan as you sit up, stretching your arms forward and shaking your head. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.”

“I mean, aren’t you early?”

“A little bit.” He steps over the empty bassinet and sits beside you, wrapping his arm over your shoulders. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Where’s-”

“Mad is asleep in her crib,” he answers, knowing what you were going to ask. And everything else about you.

“And you put away the laundry,” you sigh. “I love you.”

Tim rolls his eyes as you lean toward him. “Of course you do. I’m amazing.”

“Maddie took an interest in another documentary today,” you say after kissing him. “The Sledge case.”

“You know,” Tim begins, brushing your his fingers over your cheek. “Some parents play Mozart for their kids.”

“And those kids are boring.”

“I have a question for you. But it can wait until tomorrow.”

You furrow your brows at the change in Tim’s tone. Sitting up straighter, you look down at him, slumped against the couch, and nod.

“Do you remember a church in west L.A. called Two Pillars of the Lighthouse?”

Inhaling deeply, you feel as if your heart grows too big for your ribs. “Yeah.”

“We got called out there today for a domestic disturbance. When we arrived, there wasn’t anyone around. Caller claimed that the couple had gone inside, but there was no trace of them.”

“Sounds about right,” you murmur. “When you went inside, did you hear anything?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Not even your own footsteps?”

Tim hesitates, his gaze dropping to your neck as he thinks. “No.”

“Because the only time you can hear footsteps in that church is between dusk and dawn.”

“It’s the same church,” Tim realizes, looking wide-eyed at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine, Tim,” you assure him. “Just be careful around there, okay?”

Tim nods, holding your jaw reverently as he kisses you again. Your daughter wakes with a dramatic sigh easily caught by the baby monitor. Tim drops his forehead against yours before he stands.

“You could come back,” Tim says, pausing in the doorway.

“My future is in this house,” you reply.

Tim’s side of the bed is empty when your phone rings. Without opening your eyes, you answer the call and hold your phone to your ear.

“Good morning,” you greet.

“Did I wake you before Mad?” Angela Lopez inquires. “Because I owe you breakfast if I did.”

“Technically, Tim gained me a few hours with her before he left. Better question is, why the early morning call, Detective?”

“Did Tim talk to you last night?” she asks rather than answering your question.

At that, you sit up, wide awake. “The church,” you say.

“He did,” she mumbles.

“Angela.”

“Yeah, we reopened your case,” she explains. “I don’t have specifics, it just got handed to me, but apparently someone found new evidence. I can’t work this without you. I won’t work this without you.”

“I… Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Grey already signed off on your presence as a consultant.”

You look around your dark room, the home, and the life you’ve built away from the Los Angeles Police Department.

“I’ll be there,” you promise. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” she counters. “And don’t feel like you have to come alone.”

You end the call and get out of bed. It’s surprisingly easy to fall back into your routine, even with a baby in your hold.

It feels like coming home when you enter the bullpen of the Mid-Wilshire police station. Your daughter is in her car seat carrier, looking around quietly. With a visitor’s badge adhered to your shirt, you hesitate to barge into the heart of the station.

Before you can consider finding Tim to ask if he has someone he trusts enough to watch your daughter or pass her off to Grey, who loves her like his own, you hear your husband’s name. As you approach a circle of officers, some who you recognize, others you don’t, you listen to their conversation.

“I’ve never seen Sergeant Bradford that scary,” a young rookie exclaims. “They broke into his house while his nephews were home.”

“Scary?” You smile when Angela interjects. “Bradford? You’ve yet to meet his wife then. She’s on a whole different level of scary. Even Grey is scared of her.”

You notice Tim approaching them, biting down your smile as you check on Maddie.

Angela continues, “Legend says she stared down a whole gang and they confessed to more than they were charged with.”

“I’m not scared of her,” Wade interrupts from his office door. “But I believe that last part.”

Standing beside a nearby desk, Tim crosses his arms and asks, “Did you just tell Celina about my wife?”

Angela shrugs, smiling at him, and he shakes his head with a sigh.

“Yes, I’m married,” he says, shaking his head at the shocked look on her face. “Chica drives me crazy, but I love her. She’s saved my life multiple times, shown me heaven and hell.”

“And I make biscuits and gravy he’s threatened to kill for,” you interject.

Tim moves to your side quickly as the other officers turn to look at you. You pass Maddie’s carrier to Tim, then wave and introduce yourself.

“She’s here for me,” Angela adds. “If you’ll excuse us, we have a case to work.”

“What about the baby?” Nolan wonders, gesturing weakly toward Tim.

“Her dad can handle her,” you assure him. “Right, Tim?”

He shakes his head, already preparing to ignore the rookies’ questions about you and Maddie. You wave your fingers at him, then follow Angela to her desk.

“We’re going to need more hands,” Angela begins as you pull up a seat. “We’ve got new leads. There’s one I’m particularly interested in, but I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

You nod, taking the offered case file from her. Your original notes and findings are within, but there are new reports and calls that you haven’t seen.

“What can I do?” Tim asks, carrying Maddie against his chest as he walks to your side.

Without a word, you look at him through your lashes. It’s a silent question, a request to stay with Maddie. This case was rough the first time; it tested your faith, your confidence in your own abilities, and even your relationship with Tim. He sighs, nodding before he lifts the empty carrier in his free hand to find a quiet place to sit with your daughter.

“How do you do that?” Angela whispers. “He never listens to me.”

“What can I say?” you ask, smiling. “I drive him crazy, but he loves me.”

“I meant that in a good way!” Tim calls over his shoulder.

“Who do you trust?”

Angela turns in her seat, looking out into the bullpen as she answers. “Chen and Juarez, they’d be my first pick for this particular case.”

“And they can handle… it?”

“Without a doubt. Chen is more of a skeptic, but Juarez has knowledge I don’t.”

“Should we warn them what they’d be getting into?” you wonder, watching the officers talk to one another.

“First step into the scene, they’ll know,” Angela murmurs.

“Fair enough."

“I'd like to go by Hayden Rees's house again. Unless you think we should take them by the church, give them a taste of the case before they commit.”

You stand, and Angela tips her head, asking Lucy and Celina to join you.

“Ange?” you ask, lifting a paper from the file. “Who is Oscar and why is there a star next to his name?”

She sighs, tipping her head as she searches for the right words. “Let’s just say, Oscar Hutchinson has helped with other cases. He usually tells the truth.”

“Usually,” you repeat. “Has he lied to you?”

“Not directly.”

You move your tongue over your teeth. “He won’t lie to me,” you promise.

“How can we help?” Celina asks, her eyes wide after overhearing your comment.

“Have you heard of the Hayden Rees case?” Angela inquires.

“A little,” Lucy replies. “He was killed in a church three or four years ago. No one wanted to talk about him.”

“He went to Two Pillars of the Lighthouse one Sunday,” you inform. “The following Thursday, he was found murdered in the middle of the aisle in the sanctuary. We canvassed, interviewed everyone we could find that was in attendance that Sunday. They refused to talk.”

“But, we have new intel,” Angela interjects.

“Wait,” Celina requests, lifting her hand. “Two Pillars? That place is, like, full of bad vibes. People two blocks away can feel the effect of it.”

You lift your brows, glancing at Angela, who nods.

“It’s haunted,” you agree, your voice and expression level and serious.

Lucy chuckles, then snaps her mouth shut when you look at her. “Wait, what? That’s not- that’s not a real thing. Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Maybe not,” you reply. “Believe what you want about that. But demons are real, and this place appears to be a breeding ground for them.”

“Because someone died there?”

You smile, leaning against Angela’s desk. “Things move in the church; pews get turned around, crosses swing on the wall, the stained glass shadows lengthen and shrink in broad daylight and clouds alike. Blood drips from the vaulted ceiling onto the aisle and pews, leaving stains in some places but disappearing in others. The church’s members disappear for weeks at a time. And the only time you can hear footsteps of anyone moving inside is between dusk and dawn.”

Celina and Lucy flinch when you slap Angela’s desk and stand. Smiling, you add, “I trust the two of you; not just because Detective Lopez vouched for you, but because your characters are true and good. If you don’t want to do this, I won’t hold it against you.”

“I’m in,” Celina answers quickly, beginning to understand why you’re considered scary.

“Me too,” Lucy murmurs. “As long as I can remain a skeptic.”

“I’d never tell you what to believe, Officer Chen.”

“She will cook for you, though, if you ask nicely,” Angela jokes.

“Speaking of which,” you murmur as you close the case file and prepare to leave. “You coming to dinner on Sunday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Tim dips his chin when you look at him. You’ll call him if there’s trouble, he knows, but watching you leave for a case hasn’t gotten any easier. Maddie whines against him, so he shifts her and stands.

“I know,” he whispers. “But she promised to come back to us. She keeps her promises.”

“So, you married Tim Bradford,” Lucy says from the backseat of Angela’s car.

“I did,” you reply. Smiling over your shoulder, you say, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I wish I could say the same. Wait, whatever Tim said, it probably isn’t true.”

“What’s your daughter’s name?” Celina inquires.

“Maddie, but we call her Mad or Mads most of the time. She’s named after one of Tim’s former teammates.”

“Why’d you stop working in law enforcement?”

“I had a baby, wanted to have the time and emotional availability to be the mom my daughter deserves, or as close to that as possible.”

Lucy and Celina lean forward as Two Pillars of the Lighthouse Church comes into view, its steeple towering above the old houses that surround it. The air seems thicker here as the world moves slowly in dimmed light. It’s an old church with Gothic and Roman touches and a foreboding atmosphere that only add to its reputation.

“Maybe it is haunted,” Lucy murmurs.

“Prior to this case, I’d never seen a church I didn’t want to go in,” you confide as Angela parks against the curb. “But if this was the only church in Los Angeles, I’d take some notes from Christian missionaries in China and find an underground church, invest in a lantern.”

“If you believe,” Lucy begins carefully, “why don’t you just bring in an exorcist or something?”

“What makes you think they haven’t tried that?” Angela responds.

“It didn’t work,” you add. “Besides, I'm a southern Baptist, so I’m more inclined to find the person or people benefitting from this and putting the fear of God - and me - in them.”

“So, the killer is possessed by a demon, maybe?” Celina wonders.

“I knew I heard an accent,” Lucy murmurs behind you.

“Alabama,” you tell her.

“How did you end up in LA, married to Tim Bradford, then?”

“Lot of prayers.”

You reach for the door handle as Angela takes a deep breath. Whether or not the church is truly haunted remains a mystery. A handful of religious groups and a documentary television crew have investigated the grounds and come up empty. A man bled out in the aisle of this church, and it’s your job to find out why. When you do, maybe you can accept the forgiveness you’ve been given and learn to forgive yourself for taking too long.

“I have something for you,” Angela says, rounding the hood of the car. “I lied this morning.”

You draw your brows together at her admission, but she reaches for your hand, and you don’t hesitate to offer it, palm up. She lays your badge in your hand, smiling as your face softens.

“Sergeant Grey had the chief sign off on it. You’ve been reinstated, full duty, for the duration of this investigation, or until you change your mind.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, running your finger over the edge of the shield.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a gun with that shield?” Lucy asks.

“Unless it’s filled with rock salt, it won’t be much good here anyway,” Celina argues, shifting uncomfortably. “There’s death here. Horrors beyond comprehension.”

“Oh, they’re comprehensible,” you say, sliding your badge onto your waistband, beside your holster and the weapon you carry everywhere for your safety and your family's. “They just hide in the shadows.”

Lucy swallows, looking at Celina with wide eyes. You know you can come across as scary, serious, and intimidating, but this case needs that approach, you think.

“Celina, have you worked a murder before?” you ask, leading them toward the door.

“No, ma’am,” she replies.

“You’re clearly a good officer, so you’ll have no problem learning the ropes. The biggest part of this job is observation, the ability to see everything that’s there, decide what matters, and find a way to put it together. I’m sure other officers in this department - my husband included - have told you that feelings and intuition aren’t enough.”

“Right, because I need hard evidence.”

You stop at the threshold, your hand on the large metal door handle. “At this point, lean into that intuition. It’s not enough to build a case for the prosecutor, but it can get you to the evidence we need. Inside this church, your self-preservation is important. So, if you get a bad feeling and think you need to leave, heed that warning.”

Celina nods, and Lucy flexes her hands at her side. You smile, hoping to ease their concern somewhat. This church is more than a murder scene to you, and what awaits you inside carries more threat than the weight of a cold case on your conscience.

“Where did you get the information?” Tim demands, leaning on the metal table, his arms flexed against his weight.

“I have a lot of information,” Oscar replies. “You’ll have to be more specific, Sergeant.”

“You called the tip line and claimed that Hayden Rees was not invited to Two Pillars of the Lighthouse church.”

“No. What I said was no person invited him into the church.”

“What does that mean, Oscar? He heard the voice of God, received a letter? What made him go to that church for the first time four days before he turned up dead?”

Oscar leans back in the metal chair, smiling at Tim. “What’s in it for me?”

Wade knocks on the door before he pushes it open. “Someone’s looking for you, Bradford.”

Tim can tell by the look on Wade’s face that he’s referring to Maddie.

“Last chance, Oscar,” Tim says. “You tell me what you know, or I send you back to jail and you get nothing.”

“Fine, whatever,” Oscar grumbles. “The church opened itself to him. A friend of mine who used to live across the street told me. The doors opened, and he made some kind of connection that no one else could see.”

“The church opened itself to him,” Tim repeats, pushing off the table to stand. “Real helpful. Enjoy a few more days in solitary.”

Oscar complains as Tim leaves the room, but he’s thinking about his family now. Regardless of how meaningless the tip seems to him, Tim texts you and Angela what Oscar said, hoping that you can use it somehow. He knows how much this case impacted you. He was scared he might lose you because of it and the toll it took. Whatever Tim can do to help, even if it’s just babysitting his own daughter, he will do without question.

The heavy wooden door closes behind you, and the sanctuary silences. Traffic, city sounds, and the gentle breeze blowing outside become a distant memory as the church seems to swallow you.

“Is-” Celina stops when her voice echoes off the ceiling. Lowering her voice, she asks, “Is there anyone else here?”

“Should be,” you answer, more confident in your voice as you look down the center aisle. The blood stains have lightened, but there are more than before, painting a haunting mural down the center of the church.

“It looks like a mouth,” Lucy murmurs, shaking her shoulders as if something has landed on her.

You look up then to notice that the white slats of wood along the ceiling line do resemble teeth, and the stained glass behind the pulpit opens wide and dark, like a mouth of hell.

Your phone buzzes, causing Lucy to jump slightly. The text from Tim contains a clue. It’s cryptic and doesn’t mean anything to you now, but it’s a clue.

“Do you have a warrant?” someone asks, stepping out of the shadows and into your sight.

“What makes you think we need one?” you counter. “It’s a church, no? Open to the public. We’re fellow citizens with the saints and members of the house of God.”

The man walks toward you, his steps silent along the blood-stained aisle. “You are a believer,” he says. “What business do police officers have within the house of the Lord?”

Celina watches you, pressing her lips together as your smile falls, and you stare down the small man.

“We have questions.”

“Ah,” he sighs. “Doubters.”

“How long has evil plagued this place?” you ask. “Why do you allow it to remain?”

He scoffs, shaking his head but failing to meet your eyes. “You believe the rumors? Perhaps your faith is weak.”

“We believe the evidence,” Angela interjects. “Hayden Rees.”

The man swallows, which tells you he knows who you’re talking about.

“Suppose we were to get a warrant,” you begin. “Would the stains come back as human blood?”

“What is it you need, Detectives?” he offers.

“What happened to Mr. Rees?” Angela asks.

“That unfortunate soul died here. He was homeless, you see, and took shelter inside when and where he was not welcome.”

“So… self-defense?” Celina asks. “Defense of property?”

“I did not say that,” he defends. “I have no idea how that man was injured.”

“He was stabbed,” you say, walking past him to look at the stained glass windows. “Forty times. The number that signifies new growth and transformation.”

“Devastating.”

You move your hand across your body, signaling to Angela that you suspect you are not alone. There is someone in the corner, watching and listening.

“Sir, what does the idea of an open church mean to you?” Angela asks, distracting the man behind you as you progress. Celina pretends to take an interest in the wooden pews, then jogs to catch up with you, the sound of her footsteps absorbed by the church or whatever lurks within it.

“Two o’clock,” you murmur to her. “I’m grabbing them, you get ready to cover me.”

She nods, laying her hand on her weapon. Quickly, you reach out into the corner, grasp something, and pull it toward you. A woman dressed in black, with a hood pulled over her face, falls at your feet and begins crying.

“I must ask you to leave!” the man exclaims, marching toward you. “This poor woman is grieving, and you have disturbed us.”

You squat to speak to her, and when the silver cross necklace you wear daily falls from beneath your shirt, she scrambles backward, sliding against the wall.

“Looks like she’s not grieving alone,” Angela murmurs. She lifts her radio and calls for an ambulance, drawing incoherent arguments from the man beside you.

“Stop talking,” you demand. Your voice doesn’t echo but booms before it plunges the sanctuary into deafening silence.

“Last chance to comply,” Angela muses. “What do you know about Hayden Rees?”

“He… he said he was led here,” the man mumbles, picking at his shirt. “Said the doors opened for him and a voice called him in.”

“God?” Celina asks.

“Apparently, he was seen agreeing to meet someone the following week, the day he died perhaps,” he continues. “But those who saw him found he was speaking to the wall. We chose to keep it to ourselves, opting to pray for him rather than alerting the authorities.”

“A lot of good that did him,” you snap, standing. “What are the odds he was possessed?”

“The- the church isn’t haunted. Not in the way you think.”

You tilt your head and take a single step toward him. “What does that mean?”

“We have to pay them, or they’ll release the demon that once roamed this ground, before it was sacred.”

Angela scoffs, while Celina and Lucy watch you.

“Gang, mafia, or mob?” you ask.

“I’m not sure.”

You nod and point toward the door. The man drops his head and walks before you. When you open the door, the sound of approaching sirens and bright daylight fills the room.

“I don’t think the demon is gone,” you whisper to him. “So, what scares you more? A group of men, or an invisible being that knows it’s being used?”

“Sergeant Bradford?” Aaron asks, pushing the door of the empty office open. He sees Maddie asleep in Tim’s arm and cringes, raising one hand in an apology.

“She sleeps well,” Tim murmurs, waving Aaron inside. “What do you need?”

“Detective Lopez asked me to go through police reports and radio transcripts to find any incidents involving Two Pillars church,” Aaron explains. “I found a 911 call and EMT radio chatter. The caller was outside the church and claimed that someone was acting possessed on the threshold and people were screaming inside.”

“EMTs probably dispatched because of the chance the person was drugged or voluntarily using,” Tim replies. “LSD, PCP, there are plenty of hallucinogens that mirror the so-called effects of possession.”

“That’s the thing. EMTs checked the person; he was unconscious on the stone walkway when they arrived. He was completely fine. A few days after that, he turned up dead in South LA.”

Tim rocks Maddie as he stands. “What was the date on the initial call?”

Aaron reads the date, which was nearly two years ago. Tim slows, then reaches for the report. Aaron smiles at Maddie while Tim reads the paper.

“That’s the day I got married,” Tim murmurs.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Aaron begins.

“No,” Tim interrupts, shaking his head. “The Rees case was still open, my wife was working it every chance she had, but I never heard about this. Call her and see if she did.”

“Will, uh… Should it come from you instead?”

“Bradford,” Wade whispers, cracking the door open. When he sees Aaron and Tim standing together, he enters the office. “Oscar wants to talk again, says he’ll give you something she can use.”

“Who?” Tim asks. “He said he’d give it up for her? Lopez?”

“Your wife,” he corrects.

Tim’s jaw tightens as he passes Maddie carefully to Wade. Moving toward the door, he says, “Oscar doesn’t know about my wife.”

“Lopez was right,” Lucy murmurs, leaning against the trunk of Angela’s car. “She is scarier than Tim.”

Celina nods, watching you glare at the paramedic with your hands braced before your hips. He swallows, his hands moving as he tries to speak.

“You’re saying she’s completely fine?” you question.

“Yes- yes, ma’am. Her vitals are normal and the rush drug test is negative,” he explains.

You hollow your cheeks quickly before you ask, “Who runs this area these days?”

“I-I… I don’t know what you mean,” he stutters, looking away from you as he pinches his gloves between his fingers.

You take a step toward him, dropping your hands as you tip your head to one side.

“Demonios Callejeros!” he exclaims, backing into the ambulance’s fender.

You smile and say, “Thank you,” then turn on your heel and walk toward Lucy and Celina, who stand a little straighter.

“Oscar has feelers and informants all over this city,” Angela tells you. “If anyone can get us solid information on a street gang, it’ll be him.”

You stop suddenly and look over your shoulder at the church.

“What is it?” Celina asks.

“Do you smell that?” you reply, glancing at her.

She inhales deeply, shaking her head as she exhales.

“It smells like blood,” Lucy murmurs, pressing her palm to her nose.

“Hey!” you yell, stopping the EMT before he can get in the ambulance. “One more thing.”

You walk to his side, and Angela motions for Lucy and Celina to wait with her. Wordlessly, you point at the church, and the man begins talking quickly, becoming more animated with every word he says. When he slows, you nod and wave your hand in a dismissive motion Lucy has seen before. Tim does the same thing when he’s done with a situation.

Angela’s phone rings as you return to the car, looking much friendlier than you had inside the church and with the EMT.

“Timothy,” she greets, smiling over the top of the car at you. Her smile drops as she asks, “He said what?”

Lucy and Celina don’t wait for instruction to climb into the backseat, and you lower into the passenger seat before Angela offers you her phone. You don’t speak, but your eyes fix on your legs as you listen. Angela hits the switch to turn on the lights, speeding back to the station.

“Can you help me with something?” you ask after several minutes. You smile and add, “Then maybe I should ask Aaron instead... Yeah, this EMT told me as much. I never heard about the other guy that turned up dead after an incident here, though; I guess he got written off before it reached us.”

“Celina,” Lucy says carefully. “You have blood on your uniform.”

You turn in your seat, your eyes widening as you pull Angela’s phone from your ears.

“I’ll tell you more when we get there,” you say into the microphone, then end the call and lay Angela’s phone in an empty cupholder. “Juarez, you wearing any jewelry? Anything else that might be stained?”

“No, ma’am,” she answers.

“Take your shirt off,” you demand.

She unbuttons her uniform shirt quickly, shifting beneath the seatbelt to remove it, leaving her in a plain white undershirt. You offer your hand. Celina hesitates, then lays the shirt over your palm. Turning in your seat, you begin folding the shirt as you shift your hips. Your cross necklace is on display, but you don't do anything particularly special before you drop her shirt onto the floorboard.

“Yeah, that palace is totally haunted,” Lucy admits, breaking the silence.

“And there’s a gang using that to keep people scared and compliant,” you add.

“Couldn’t… hypothetically, couldn’t they just be making the place seem haunted?” Angela wonders. “They’ve done crazier things.”

“Absolutely,” you reply. “But if this is faked, they’re smarter than any other gang I’ve met.”

“And you made one confess,” Celina says, smiling as she shifts in her seat. “Allegedly.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “That’s how I got my nickname.”

“You have a nickname?” Lucy exclaims.

“It’s chica,” Angela says, “but Tim thinks he’s the only one allowed to use it. Which is not fair, seeing as I’m the one that said it first.”

You see Celina’s brows draw together, and she could probably use the distraction until you get back to the station and get her a clean shirt. “That gang that I allegedly got to confess? They only spoke Spanish. My Spanish isn’t great-”

“She can order Mexican, but that's it,” Angela jokes.

“I can get by, but there was a definite language barrier there,” you continue. “So, I decided to just intimidate them a little bit, or at least try to. They started answering my questions about the charges they were facing, and the translator was nodding along with everything and taking notes, then just went kind of wide-eyed. I found out after we got out of the room that they’d confessed to more than I brought up, including a handful of felonies.”

“And now everyone is scared of you,” Lucy muses. “Fair trade-off.”

“She gets it,” you tell Angela.

Angela shifts into park against the curb, where Tim is waiting. He steps forward and opens your door, pulling you into a tight hug before he sees Celina is no longer wearing her uniform shirt.

“What happened?” he demands, keeping one arm around you.

“Blood dripped from the ceiling,” Angela answers. “Totally normal day.”

“You said this Oscar guy knew my name?” you remind him, looking at Tim’s face and the concern he’s showing.

“Yeah, and he said he had information that could help you. You’re not going in there alone with him,” Tim replies.

“Not a problem,” Angela assures him. “He can’t lie to us because we found something. Well, your wife found something.”

Tim’s brows draw together as he turns his chin toward you.

“There’s a gang threatening to release the demon in Two Pillars if its staff doesn’t pay them off,” you offer.

“So, it isn’t haunted?” he questions.

“I think it is.”

“I do too,” Celina interjects, pinching her uniform shirt to remove it from the car.

“Then let’s see what Oscar has for us,” Angela decides.

You bounce slightly, smiling when Maddie giggles against you. She’s getting sleepy as she finishes eating, and Tim stands beside you, rubbing firm circles against your back.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Need anything?”

“I’m good,” you assure him. “Thank you.”

Tim squats beside the chair you’re in, tracing his finger over your jawline.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you,” he replies. “And no matter what happens, you’re a good detective, and an even better mom.”

You nod, leaning into his touch until Angela knocks on the door.

“We got something,” she murmurs.

“This is a bad idea,” Tim says, his arms crossed across his chest as he looks up at the steeple of Two Pillars of the Lighthouse Church. “And this place needs a shorter name.”

You smile at his second comment and silently agree with the first. Oscar didn’t want to talk to Angela, insisting that his information would benefit you more. Still, she got him to open up easily. Now, she’s watching Maddie for you while you and your husband follow through on what is undoubtedly a bad idea built on information provided by a convicted felon.

“Are you ready?” you ask.

“No, you’re not!” someone calls as a car door closes.

You turn quickly, moving your hand to the gun on your hip. Sighing, you ask, “Wade? What are you doing here?”

“Stopping you from doing something stupid,” he replies. “Or at least doing it alone.”

“That’s why we’re all here,” Aaron adds, joining Wade.

“Sorry I called you scary and didn’t believe you,” Lucy says.

“You do not have to do this,” you argue. “This is my case. I’m the one who failed these people.”

“You’re one of us,” Wade counters. “And we don’t let our own rush into danger without backup.”

You look at Tim, who shrugs. It’s still your call, you get to decide if you’ll lead all of these people into a dangerous church that is undoubtedly haunted, either by an invisible force or a group of greedy, bloodthirsty gangsters.

“Okay,” you decide. “We’re going in, on my count. This door stays open, and if anything starts feeling wrong, find a way to get more air inside. Shoot a window, whatever it takes.”

“Do we need, like, salt?” Aaron inquires.

“I hate to admit this, but I’m expecting an ambush more than a visit from a Supernatural character,” you say. “In the odds that there is a demon in there, say something about death. I've never tried it, but apparently it works.”

“This is crazy,” Lucy mumbles.

“You bring lights?” Tim asks, pulling a long gun to his side.

“Of course,” Wade scoffs.

“Leave them here. They won’t help.”

“Okay, you’re starting to sound scary again,” Celina points out.

“Good. If you’re scared of me, then what’s inside should be no problem.”

Wade looks at you, but you just shrug. Tim’s right. Preparing someone for the worst ensures they make it through the best.

“We’re human, we have a way out, and we’re packing more heat than a ghost,” Tim reminds everyone. “On my commands or my wife’s, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy and Aaron reply while Celina nods.

“Wait,” you interrupt. “Something the EMT said. They’re called demonios callejeros. That means street devils, right?”

“Yeah,” Celina answers.

“Then why can’t we lure them into the street?”

“The people or the demons?” Wade clarifies.

You smile, and he immediately shakes his head.

“I don’t like that look.”

“You don’t have to,” Tim says, racking his gun against his shoulder. “Ready?”

You tap his shoulder and say, “Ready.”

Tim leads your small army into the church, kicking the door hard enough that it splinters before he enters. He keeps his back to the wall as he sweeps the sanctuary. You raise your gun toward the ceiling, hesitating when you see the wood slats Lucy had said looked like teeth. Painted in shadows, they seem to drip blood, but the only marks on the aisle are the preservation of your years-old crime scene.

Tim stops, turns to see Wade, and flashes two tactical hand motions. Wade nods, then leads Aaron and Lucy to the other side of the sanctuary. When Tim moves forward, you gesture for Celina to go with him. You trust them to be thorough, so you walk to the center aisle, stained with blood. With your gun ready, you step carefully to the back pew. The blood stains appear to darken as if they’re fresh again.

“Bradford,” Tim hisses when he notices you’re not with him anymore.

“Cover me,” you tell him, dropping to one knee. Backlit by the open door, you shoot the stained glass window behind the pulpit. The air that enters the church sucks the door closed, plunging the sanctuary into darkness. Within a minute, tires squeal outside, and your teammates have moved into formation behind you. When the splintered door opens again, the entering gangsters are clearly surprised to see six armed police officers waiting for them.

“Weapons down, hands up!” Tim demands before repeating the command in Spanish.

You glare at the one that seems to be their leader. His finger flinches toward the trigger, then he curses under his breath and drops his gun. The rest of his crew follow, so you stand and keep your gun aimed at them as your team moves forward to cuff them.

“Where are you going to run?” you ask. “You clearly didn’t want me to hunt you down. The demon you were controlling - or claiming to control - what will you do when it comes after you? Run?”

“It said it’d heal him,” someone grumbles.

“Who?” Tim demands.

“The voice,” the man replies with a thick accent. “Said it would heal Jorge. He’s dead, he’s been dead.”

“He was murdered, found in South LA, right?” Aaron asks. He looks at Tim to say, “That’s who the paramedics cleared a few days before he died.”

“How was he sick?” you ask.

“Woke up one day with a - come se dice? - a limp, walking funny. And he heard things that weren’t there.”

“Like Hayden Rees,” you murmur. “There is a demon, but it’s possessing people, not this sacred ground.”

“So, what?” Tim asks while Celina radios for officers to come to escort your new arrests to booking. “The church is guarding itself by letting them die? Bringing them here to go crazy?”

“That’s- that’s not how it works, biblically,” you argue. “The name of Jesus Christ should exorcise them. That doesn’t work here.”

“Maybe the EMTs are poisoning them,” Aaron suggests. “Dosing them with hallucinogens.”

“Church not Christian,” the same man interrupts.

“What?” you and Tim ask together, turning toward him.

“Not talk about Dios here. Only how to be better person.”

You point at the crosses on the wall. “Those should still ward against demonic entities.”

“Move when people come in.”

“The legend!” you exclaim. “How did I forget that? If those crucifixes really sway without wind, their ability to ward against possession would be rendered useless, I think.”

“They’re right side up now,” Celina points out.

“Then let’s see what happens to a blood drop.”

You try to prick your finger with the safety of your gun, but it doesn’t work. Tim sighs, then slides his index finger over the sight on his gun. His blood drips to the floor, where the wood of the center aisle soaks it in. The floorboards groan as if the weight of the blood has suddenly become too much for them to hold.

“Dios mio,” the man cries.

“Get them out of here!” Tim demands, pushing you toward the door.

“No, Tim, look,” you argue, pointing to the shadows on the floor. They begin moving, shifting into the shapes they should be projecting. Whatever was wrong with this church is fighting to right itself, but that still doesn’t answer the question of who killed Hayden Rees.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was made flesh,” you whisper, stomping on the floor to hear your footsteps.

“Think they’ll sue the city for the window?” Wade asks as you step out into the Los Angeles night, surrounded by police cars and ambulances.

“We should charge them for getting rid of the demon,” Tim argues.

“If this were a tv show, I’d think Rees’s soul stuck around to get revenge,” you muse. “But whoever killed him must have known that the church was in fact haunted and hoped that would serve as enough explanation for his death.”

“Who would know that?” Wade counters.

“Everyone who worked there,” Tim offers. “If they weren’t really preaching, the pastor or priest or whoever spoke every Sunday knew exactly what was contained in those walls.”

“We met him,” you say. “He was pushy, rude, and tried to keep us from helping someone, but he didn’t strike me as a cold-blooded killer. Not the kind that stabs someone forty times.”

Your phone rings, interrupting your conversation. You show Tim Angela’s name on the caller ID, then turn away from the crowd to answer your phone.

“Ange?” you ask. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, Maddie is asleep right now,” she says, soothing your concern. “I was looking at the old transcripts and reports Thorsen dug up. The one about the guy who was found in South LA? Guess who the 911 caller was.”

“The pastor,” you guess.

“Close. Guy who owns the land: Kevin Rees.”

“Relation?”

“His father. Apparently Hayden had some known drug issues but had been sober for nearly five years when the talking to the wall incident came up.”

“Where is Kevin now?”

“Lives in Bel Air.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. That church, demon and all, made him rich. If his former addict son was going to out him… maybe he snapped.”

“Angela, thank you. We’ll find him tonight if you’re okay to watch Mads for a few more hours.”

“She can stay forever, as far as I’m concerned.”

Wesley objects in the background of the call, and you smile as you thank her again.

“Hayden Rees’s father owns the church,” you say, returning to Tim’s side. “Lives in Bel Air and might have had motive to keep his son silent.”

“Then let’s go get him,” Tim replies. “Chen, Juarez, you’re with us!”

You’re watching Wade and Wesley talk to Kevin Rees from the observation room when the sun rises. Angela brought Maddie to you when she dropped Wesley off, and your daughter is sleeping peacefully against your chest. She’s only four months old and already has a police station full of people wrapped around her finger.

“Hey,” Tim murmurs when he returns. He passes you a bottle of water, then says, “CSI just called. The church seems to be back to normal. No weird wind or long shadows, they can hear their footsteps, and the bloodstains are lifting for DNA testing.”

“That’s amazing,” you reply. “Kevin is confessing. I don’t know if he thinks the tears will help him, but they’re just making me angrier than a hornet in a Coke can.”

Tim chuckles, then lifts Maddie from your arms. “You’re using Southern colloquialisms that I don’t understand, which means it’s time for you to get to bed.”

“I have to make extra food for Sunday,” you say, following him as you yawn. “I invited everyone.”

“Everyone?” Tim repeats, causing Maddie to stir. “Who is everyone?” he asks, quieter.

“Angela’s family, Wade’s family, Chen, Juarez, Thorsen, and someone else. I think he said his name was Nolan but he kept talking after that, so I might be wrong.”

“I knew you should have just been a housewife,” Tim complains.

“Please, you wouldn’t have married me if I wasn’t exactly the way I am.”

“No,” Tim agrees, smiling at you. “I wouldn’t have.”

“Ever find out how Oscar knew who I was or that the church wasn’t as guarded against fresh air as it was against humans? Or that disrupting the stained glass would draw the demonios' attention?” you inquire as he secures Maddie in her car seat.

“He’s got a guy in demonios callejeros who was getting paid off to keep the secret and patrol the area at night, so he must have heard the glass and called in reinforcements. Oscar paid someone to do a deep dive into my personal life after Nolan arrested him the last time.”

“Nolan arrested him, but he looked into you?”

“He’s got a thing for dropping names,” Tim explains with a shrug. “He’s not a threat.”

“Few things are.”

“Saying things like that is why people think you’re scary,” Tim says, stepping back from you.

You level your expression and ask, “Say that again?”

“No, baby," Tim replies, smiling as he returns to your side. He leans close to you and adds, "I’m staying on your good side. I’d rather see a little heaven this weekend.”

“Are you flirting with me?” you ask, your eyes wide as Tim offers his hand.

“Offputting, isn’t it? Now you know how it feels.”

“And to think, I was going to cook for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim blurts out. “Want me to get on my knees and beg at your altar? I will.”

“Shut up,” you demand through a giggle.

“They’re such a weird couple,” Lucy says, watching you leave.

“But they work,” Celina points out.

“Remember when I said I wasn’t scared of her?” Wade interrupts, standing beside them. “I lied. She terrifies me.”

“Me too, jefe,” a member of demonios callejeros agrees as he’s led to an interview room. “I’m glad she’s not on my case.”

Celina and Lucy look at Wade, who hesitates before he says, “I’ll give her a day to rest.”

“You’re scared to call her,” Celina accuses.

“Oh, yeah,” he agrees. “I’ll get Angela to do it.”

Outside the station, Tim secures Maddie’s car seat into the backseat of his truck, then pulls you against his chest and kisses you. You might put him through heaven and hell - accordingly, you think because he doesn’t always act like he should - but you’re perfect for each other, even if you do scare people just by looking at them.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #hanna writes✯#requests #fem!reader

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moonlit-imagines · 5 months ago

Text

Burrs

Lucy Chen x reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Lucy chen x reader. R was in the same rookie class as Lucy. The two of them had always been close. R is now a detective, and they both have buried feeling for each other, which comes to light after r nearly dies on a raid or something. (Oneshot/fic. Is this the right way to request?)”

While Lucy longed to be where you were—a detective with a long list of recommendations and a near-perfect score on your exam—she admired you for so many different reasons.

You two met in the academy and became instant friends, she was so proud of how far you’d come and jealously didn’t cross either of your minds when you got your promotion. What often crossed her mind was the question: why hadn’t she asked you out yet? There wasn’t any good excuse—maybe the whole “not wanting to ruin your friendship,” but that’s a lazy cliché.

You felt the same way, but you were too focused on your career to think of jeopardizing it by asking out your favorite coworker. You settled for drinks with friends and group meals, the occasional hangout at each other’s houses, and light flirting when you could sneak it in. And you always encouraged her to work to get the promotion she wanted and should have. Matter of fact—you tried to put in a good word every time you could organically slip it in.

Now, every once in a while you get lucky enough to have her on one of your assignments and she’d been a critical asset on your most recent case. This drug and weapon operation was going down and she was right behind you when you and the rest of the department went to raid the base of operations.

“Got it?” Lucy asked you as you restrapped your bulletproof vest three times and counting off to the side in the locker room. It was a bit embarrassing to struggle with it in front of other officers.

“Yeah, hang on. Do you mind reaching up the back of my shirt? I think there’s something stuck in there. I have like a little poking feeling.” You chuckled at your own request and her face lit up in amusement. She loosened the vest a bit to stick her hand up and burst into laughter. “What? What is it?!”

“It’s a burr.” She pulled the small sand burr from your clothes and you quickly strapped your vest before taking a look at the little guy.

“Wow…” You snagged it to look a little closer. “Thanks for the very intimate assist.”

“Happy to help.” She winked. “Ready to go now?”

—————

You led the team around the warehouse and halted with a hand signal, waiting for the moment to push on. Proceeding, you made it to the front door and before you even had a moment to check the door, bullets came flying through and three made contact, knocking you straight to the ground.

“Fall back! Fall back!” Bradford shouted to the rest of the team as Lucy jumped into action, grabbing you by the shoulders and trying to drag you from the action. “Chen! Lift on three!” Bradford came to assist to get you out of there as soon as possible.

The hits were two in the arm and one in the hip, along with a few shots to the vest. “Good thing you helped me get this thing on right.” You weakly joked, sight pulsing black as you lost blood.

“You’re gonna be fine, y/n. We have RA en route, they’re gonna take care of you.” Tim assured you, as if you were even listening. It was more of a comfort to Lucy, but all your comfort came from looking at Lucy and how she was so worried for you. She had your shoulders still, while Tim had you by your ankles.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine…” You kept repeating, trying to ignore the pain from your wounds. They felt hot and sharp. “I have burrs in me.” You muttered.

“What?” Tim asked. “What is y/n saying?”

“Burrs…I picked one off of their back earlier.” Lucy explained.

“Stabbing pain.” Tim understood what you meant. “Hang in there, I can hear the RA now.” The sirens faded from your senses as you lost consciousness.

—————

The bright lights of the hospital room and LA sunshine blinded you once you regained consciousness. “Too bright.” You groaned, covering your eyes, assuming someone might be in the room with you.

“Oh! Okay, hang on.” You heard a woman’s familiar voice and felt the room dim behind your eyelids. The blinds closed and the lights flicked off. “Okay, better?” Your eyes peeled open and Lucy stood in front of you with a bouquet of flowers. “I remember you mentioning you liked these.” You weakly smiled, reaching for her hand.

“Give me the rundown.” You requested and she obliged.

“You got a blood transfusion, a minor surgery to get the bullet out of your pelvis—no major damage—and some stitched. And you have some serious bruises on your torso from the impact on your vest.” Lucy explained, setting the flowers aside. “And I was really worried about you. You’d been out for almost twenty-four hours.”

“That’s rookie numbers.” You squeezed her hand. “What about the raid?”

“Tipped off the crew, we might be back at square one. I wouldn’t worry about that right now.” Lucy reached for your cheek. “Y/N, I thought I was going to lose you before I could tell you how I felt.”

“I already knew.” You teased.

“I guess that’s why you’re the detective.” She giggled, kissing you on the forehead. “Hope that was okay.”

“Oh, it’s welcome.” You assured her. “If I had more strength and less stitches, I’d lean forward to give you something more meaningful.”

“Eh, you can save it for the date.” She then pulled out a box of chocolates with an embarrassed-yet-proud look.

“Oh! Now there’s a date. I guess I can’t say ‘no’ since you brought me these.” You joked with her, flirting feeling much more real than it did at the academy. “Once I can sit up on my own, you’ve got yourself a date. Now, can you get a nurse so I can see when the hell they’re gonna let me out? I hate hospitals.”

taglist: @summersimmerus //

#lucy chen #lucy chen x reader #lucy chen imagine #the rookie #the rookie x reader #the rookie imagine

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therookieimagines · 10 months ago

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Not that he cares..or he does..- Tim Bradford x fem!reader 3/?

Summary: You’ve been living with Tim for a few months now, and after some intense staring contests Tim’s finally ready to admit how he feels, but what happens whenever things take a spicy turn?

Warnings: SMUT AT THE ENNNND, Tim calling you a whore and slut

It had been a good month or two, you were healing great and ready to get back into policing, but with slight changes, you felt like with the feelings that were arising towards Tim after living with him for some time would get in the way of your work, so, you were transferring TOs to Harper until you could become a detective. It wasn’t that you were doing anything inappropriate with each other, you both just, shared a bed, and a room..and a closet..you were basically dating without the dating. Tim had gone back to work about three weeks ago, diving head first right into cases, but not without calling you every hour on the hour, he couldn’t help it, you had been shot, maybe it had healed now but what if something happens? Again? He had to make sure you were safe.

Tim groaned at his desk holding the phone to his ear listening for the third time as he heard your voicemail “this is y/n! Leave a message, unless your Bradford or Nolan, then just text me” he was growing irritated with every passing second. “Harper! I’m leaving to go run a personal errand, I’ll be back in twenty” he said sternly before his desk phone started to ring loudly “hello? Y/n?” He answered quickly, hunched over his desk waiting for your reply “Tim? Why are you calling me like something happened are you okay?” You asked softly, he could hear the sound of dishes clanking faintly in the background “why didn’t you answer? I thought something might’ve happened you know whenever I’m calling from work it’s a-“ you cut him off with a giggle “it’s a check-in, I know, but I was doing dishes and didn’t realize my phone was on the bed, I’m sorry, I’m okay though I swear” you reassured as you finished drying the last plate, trying to stifle your groans in pain as you reached above you to put one of Tim’s thermos’s away “hey hey, what was that? That doesn’t sound okay to me” he asked starting to bite his nails “ya know what no I’m coming home” he decided before you were quick to cut him off “Tim Bradford. Stay on your shift, criminals need you out there to ruin their fun, just like you ruin mine” you teased “I’m cleaning the apartment for us, that way we’re not dealing with any messes tonight” you explained feeling terrible Bradford had to come home and clean up after you the last couple of weeks because of your injury, he never actually minded it though, taking care of you was just like his job as a cop, he knew he was doing good, especially if it meant making sure you were happy and safe. “F-fine but..I’ll be home at 7pm sharp, got it?” You heard his voice say, you could tell he was still uneasy but you knew he’d be quickly distracted with the first call he got.

Tim was truthful on his word, the door unlocked at exactly 7pm, not a second later either, you watched as he immediately dropped his things by the door walking over to you “how’re you? Those noises you made earlier did not sound like stretching you sounded hurt, did you fall or run into something?” He asked worried, placing his hands on your shoulders examining your body “Tim, I’m fine, reaching above my head is still painful but..it’ll be alright, these things heal” you smiled patting his shoulder before sitting down “so, how’d your date go that Lucy set you up on?” You asked curiously, you knew Lucy had her own little scheme going on, you could tell the second she started asking about how you and Tim were handling living with each other. “What?- o-oh I didn’t know..you..knew..” he admitted sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly “she was..nice..definitely not my type though, she wouldn’t stop instagramming her food, like honestly why can’t people just enjoy a meal?” He ranted, you just watched him smiling as he continued on and on as he poured himself a drink “hey why aren’t..you..answering..” Tim trailed off noticing you watching him in awe “why are you watching me, you creep” he teased sitting down in the recliner not far from where you were on the couch.

“Seriously!” He groaned dropping his head “quit staring at me! It’s creepy and weird!” Tim continued setting his drink down walking over eyeing you suspiciously, you couldn’t hide your smile, you knew he wasn’t being serious, but the fact he was trying to be was adorable to you, he was doing his cop tatics on you like he would on a call, his hands firmly holding his regular belt, his glare stern and his eyes slowly clouding to a shade darker. “Ms. L/n, do I need to issue you a ticket for staring an officer of the law down?” He asked squinting his eyes “try it, I’ll take that ticket to court, officer Bradford” you smirked, the giddy smile never leaving your face once though, Tim stayed strong though, fighting every muscle in his body not to smile or laugh. “Unless..you explain yourself on why you’re staring at me?” He offered crossing his arms, all of his known intimidation tactics “you don’t scare me, Bradford!” You laughed leaning back on the couch, only for him to take a step closer “that’s officer Bradford to you” he corrected in a stern tone “oh my gooood! Fine! I was staring because it’s calming to see someone so…brutal and scary become so laid back and relaxed” you explained, Tim scoffed playfully “when have I ever been brutal!?” He asked sitting back down, this time next to you, on the floor “uhm, my first call? They shot at us and whenever you apprehended them I saw you, that body tackle was pretty brutal” you remarked “I did what I was trained in the academy to do!” He defended, you just laughed smiling as he just shook his head at you. “I just mean that..i don’t know” you sighed letting your head fall back “you’re just..comforting to watch” you shrugged looking towards him again, this time he was the one staring, taking in everything that was you.

You both kept taking turns for at least ten minutes before finally Tim broke the silence “alright it’s killing me” he huffed leaning up onto his knee placing a hand on your cheek “over the last year and a half..y/n I’ve loved you more and more everyday” he admitted, you watched him closely nodding your head before he pressed his lips firmly against yours, you weren’t sure if you should kiss him back or pull away, he was still technically your TO. You chose to kiss back though, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he slowly made his way from the floor to the couch next to you “I never realized it until the night you made the backup call..I knew you were different from my other rookies but..not like this” he whispered pulling away from your lips, much to his minds dismay. “Don’t worry, Tim..I..I love you too, even if..you’re a rude asshole sometimes..and I wanna hit you..with a baton..-“ “hey! Where did all of this brutality come from!?” He yelped leaning away from you smiling “I’m just saying! I love you despite all the times you get on my nerves” you laughed leaning closer to him attempting to peck his lips, but he just kept leaning farther and farther back until he fell onto his back on the armrest, you kept moving though, eventually hovering over his body, your hair tickling his nose lightly. “Careful, rookie.” He warned, almost like you were going into dangerous territory, you were confused up until you realized just where your hand was, right above his growing erection, resting at the waistline of his jeans. “Shit sorry” you cursed moving it to hold his hand, you were now riddled with insecurities and embarrassment, why’d you put your hand there? What if he didn’t want things this fast? Were you a whore for moving this fast with him?

Tim could see the nervousness in your eyes, he kissed you once again, squeezing your hand gently before placing it back where it was only this time a few inches lower, you could feel a knot immediately form in your stomach as you felt how big his ‘package’ really was, I mean the police slacks were good to show things off but they could only do so much, so this was a lot bigger than expectations. “You’re alright, no need to apologize” he whispered running his hands through your hair pulling your head closer to his as he pressed his lips closer to yours, using his other hand to pull you basically onto his lap, only your hips were placed on his thighs. “Look at me, are you alright with this?..” he asked raising an eyebrow “we don’t have to, you know that, l/n, I’ll never force you into anything” he reassured, you knew every word he said was the truth, anytime a call was too much for you, he’d always make sure you were okay, never forcing you to do anything you were uncomfortable with (evictions were the worst for you growing up bouncing from house to house). You never answered him though, your mind starting to race again “I-i want to..” you whispered but your brain kept going back to the same topic, the moment he sees your scar he won’t be into you as much. Tim could almost read your face like a book, you wanted to but you were conflicted with something, he studied you, trying to figure out the cause without forcing you to speak, that’s whenever he spotted one of your hands fidgeting with your shirt, pulling and twisting, rolling the fabric between your fingers as you struggled to find the words.

You didn’t need to though, Tim effortlessly lifted you carrying you towards your bedroom before gently laying you on the bed, not wanting to hurt you anymore than you had already been hurt in your life. He pulled off your shirt running his eyes up and down your torso before his eyes landed on the distinct scar on your abdomen, he slowly lowered his head resting his chin on your hip bone “this is what’s bothering you?” He asked, at first you thought he was upset, you were probably being silly right? You shouldn’t be this stuck on a stupid scar. “Hey, I’ve got em too, from my time being deployed..my time serving as an officer..in our line of work those are like our little marks of how long we’ve been working as officers” he explained, your eyes were glued to him, watching as he sighed standing up, pulling his shirt and jeans off of his body “I’ve got them, it’s alright” he whispered slowly crawling onto the bed kissing your stomach all the way up to your lips “I’ve always thought you were beautiful..” he whispered against your lips, his words and kisses slowly became more aggressive, his hands running through your hair as you grinded your pussy against his thigh. “Fucking hell” he grunted gripping a fist full of his comforter, he so badly wanted to fuck you into the bed, show you just how badly he’s wanted to fuck you since the night he gave you a ride home from your friends party. You and your friend were sober but you weren’t dressed like it, he was completely shocked at the time, that someone as modest as you during your shifts would dress in such short shorts and such a tight t-shirt, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, perfectly masking it as annoyance, he was very much hiding that fact he wanted to tell you exactly how he felt right then and there, how much he loved you and wanted you.

You took notice to Tim’s face, he was concentrated on something heavy, something that was turning his knuckles white from the sheets, as you grinded your hips yet another time that’s whenever you felt it, he was harder than he had been that whole night. “Fuck me, Bradford.” You said sternly, using a fistful of his hair to pull him down to eye level “I want you, to fuck me however you want, just, with a condom please” you asked/demanded, you could see something in his eyes flicker, almost like he had been conflicted and then made up his mind. He quickly leaned away from you, ripping your sweatpants open down the thigh, giving him perfect access to press his fingers against your clit playing with it roughly watching as your back arched, all because of him. It was fueling Tim with something he never felt before, watching you do that all over his fingers made him feel powerful and more of a man than ever “oh just wait, baby, you think this is good, just wait” he whispered biting his lip smirking, he slowly lowered his body until he was eye level with your pussy, your thighs twitching with anticipation as he blew lightly over your lace thong. “You were these just for fun..or did you have a plan to seduce an officer tonight?” He asked slowly pulling them off, he had to keep them safe, just incase he wanted to see you in them again, you bit your lip anxiously, not wanting to answer his question in fear of answering wrong and not getting the pleasure you so desperately needed.

Tim growled furrowing his eyebrows landing a harsh slap to your inner thigh, resulting in a light squeal out of you in response “answer me whenever I’m speaking to you.” He growled resting your legs on his shoulder using barely any strength to tug you to the end of the bed, his lips barely ghosting over your bare pussy. “N-no I just h-hadn’t gotten around to laundry y-yet” you whimpered, squealing whenever you felt his warm tongue leave a strip across your clit, he wasn’t finished though, using the tip of his tongue to trace figure eights around your clit. Right as you approached your climax, Tim pulled his mouth away, you whined desperately trying to pull his face back down between your legs, but he quickly grabbed your hands pinning them to the side “ah ah.” He tsked, grabbing handcuffs from his side table using them to keep your hands restrained to the side of you to the bed frame “okay how long has that clasp been there?” You asked never really noticing how quickly the bed you’ve been sleeping on for the past months turned into a sex chamber “did it whenever I first moved in, didn’t mention it to you whenever you moved in because I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable” he explained casually as he placed a condom over himself lining his cock up before pushing into you quickly, it only took a few moments before he bottomed out inside of you, you couldn’t help but let out a moan as you felt his tip brush against your cervix.

Tim groaned loudly, you felt so much tighter than he thought, he couldn’t stop his hips from moving though, desperate to chase the one high, fuck the one person he’s been dying to for the last year “fuck just like that, god damnit your pussy feels great” he growled, lifting your legs over his shoulders giving himself a new angle to fuck you at. You couldn’t process everything happening, you didn’t even know Tim could be this sex experienced, you always marked him off as more of a vanilla dude, but here he was, throat around your neck gently as he slammed his cock into you so hard you knew there’d be bruising tomorrow. “Fuck! Tim please! I’m gonna cum” you begged, his grip on your throat tightened as he halted his thrusts “what the hell did you just call me, rookie?” He growled, ghosting his lips over yours “I-I’m sorry, sir” you whimpered, trying to move your hips in any way that would get you some sort of release, but Tim just held your hips down, using your pussy to his own advantage “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long, fuck it’s better than I’d hoped it would be, holy shit” he panted, you whimpered loudly, desperately pulling your shirt off, screaming out Tim’s name as he latched his lips around one of your nipples, his teeth nibbling and biting as you squirmed under him.

You could barely think straight anymore, you hadn’t ever made yourself feel this much pleasure, no toy, hand, or man ever had you like this before, and Tim made it look so easy, like it was nothing to have you basically mush in his hands. Tim’s grip on the sheets were tightening, he had abandoned holding your neck long ago, not wanting to cause you any bruising above the waist or seriously hurt you, he could feel himself about to cum but he had to hold on, he needed to know how good it feels for you to squeeze around his cock. He could tell you weren’t going to last long either, your moans and whimpers were growing a lot more high pitched and frequent and you were basically dripping onto the bed you were so wet “come on, show me how much you want it, work for it, rookie” he teased, flipping you both over watching as you desperately rode his cock, your nails scraping down his chest as he bucked his hips up to meet yours pulling away. You gasped as his fingers started attacked your clit again, this time the knot in your stomach was too tight, immediately bursting, Tim moaned loudly throwing his head back as he felt you tighten around him, your pussy throbbing desperate to get every last drop from his cock as he came deep inside of you, the condom busting rather quickly. Both of your hips didn’t stop though, Tim’s just got rougher “god damnit your pussy feels so amazing, fuck” he cursed, you felt as he quickly got hard again inside of you, this time you felt every twitch and thrust, you were highly sensitive now and Tim was hungrier now for your second climax. He showed no mercy as he repeatedly pulled out only to push right back into you bottoming out, flipping you onto your stomach so he could lift your hips into the air, fucking you deeper, you swear you could feel his cock poking the inside of your stomach he was so deep, but he just kept going, wrapping his hand around your neck to pull your bare back against him, his lips ghosting over your ear “cum for me, rookie, wanna see that tight pussy squeeze my cock, like the desperate rookie you are” he spat, it just made you hotter, the way he talked down to you always did something to you, the way he had little regard over your feelings sometimes but then would turn around and care so much about you if anything happened.

“Fuck you like that, slut? Like whenever your commanding officer calls you out for the little desperate slut that you are?” He continued pushing your face back down into the pillows, you moaned loudly trying to push your hips back into his, but he continued to fuck you at his pace, only whenever he felt your body tense did he pull out replacing his cock with his mouth, licking up any cum that dare leaked past his lips, your legs twitched trying to close to get his mouth away from your clit but he just held your legs open, continuing to lick any part of your thighs and pussy clean. “Now, I think I deserve some payment for my amazing services” he panted leaning up glancing to his still hard cock back to you “I just wanted to see how good my girl tasted” he whispered, you whimpered sealing your fate as you dropped to your knees taking his cock into your mouth, you already knew you wouldn’t be able to handle the entire thing, so you took it slow, swallowing around him as he slowly bucked his hips into your mouth. It lasted about two minutes before Tim scoffed “may I show you how it’s done, slut?” He asked, you looked up at him through your lashes, nodding, never taking his cock out of your mouth, he grunted grabbing your hair and his cock leading it down your throat “breathe. Don’t stop breathing just breathe throw it” he coached, his tone no longer rough but more of caring, not wanting to see you choke (but secretly a little). As he nearly bottomed out you gagged around him, causing him to stumble slightly, stabilizing himself with your shoulders, he quickly thrusted into your mouth, sending his cock back down the back of your throat, remembering his words you moaned around him, his pace picking up, and his grip on your hair tightening before you felt a warm liquid shoot down your throat and pool in your cheeks as he pulled out, smirking as he slightly ran his tip over your lips leaving a coating of cum for you to lick clean. “Such a good girl” he whispered kneeling down to meet you “let’s get in the shower-“ you cut him off with a tired whine in protest, your legs felt like jelly and you were not about to stand in the shower for 30-45 minutes, no way. “Okay then let’s get in a bath, clean up, and we can watch this new true crime show I found, seems like something you’d be into” he shrugged, you smiled softly, even after calling you a desperate slut, he had already had a movie planned for afterwards “I guess…only if…you leave your shirt off..” you agreed using his hand to help yourself stand, Tim quick to stand to help stabilize you as he walked you to the bathroom “what is up with you and me being shirtless, l/n?” He asked as he helped you sit down next to the tub, allowing him to lean over to turn the water on and plug the drain “I dunno..you’re just..really nice to look at” you smirked giggling, before you knew it you were uncontrollably giggling “now what?” Tim asked, not being able to contain his smile as he watched you lean against the wall for support “I’m sorry! It’s just..we just..had sex!..” you whisper-yelled giggling loudly “seriously!? Are you a child or something!?” He laughed as he helped you into the warm bath, your muscles almost immediately relaxing as he slid in behind you, pulling you back to lean against his chest.

“I love you, y/n..and I know..with our jobs..but we can figure it out..right?” He asked softly, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, you leaned back resting your cheek on his shoulder “we can..and we will..” you whispered, reassuring him before placing a gentle kiss on his jawline and turning back around to face the faucet, letting Tim start to rinse your hair out.

Part 4 lovelies? Or start getting some one shots out there?

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