#Tim first watched him when he was nine. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satorusugurugurl · 6 months

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Brat tamer and daddy kink with geto, gojo and toji please 🙏🔥

Brat Tamer’s

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, FAB!R

Word count: 4,982 (I got really into it)

Warning: unprotected sex, degrading, overstimulating, public sex, dirty talk!

A/N: I literally loved this, I got so excited. I stayed up late editing it when I need to be up in four and a half hours! Please enjoy!

Summary: JJK men and how they fuck the bratty attitude out of you! 🥵

Gojo Satoru:

Rage boiled in the pit of your stomach as your leg bounced. The foul mood you were in wasn't because you woke up early on a Saturday or due to you sleeping on the couch. No, your sour mood is sponsored by your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.

The bastard had been the biggest twat tease the previous day. All Friday long, he sent you the most provocative, smutty, thirsty texts the world had ever seen. Sexting, who the hell even sexted anymore?

Gojo Satoru did.

SATORU: damn, I'm thirsty. 😩

YOU: Buy a drink then? 🤨

SATORU: but they don't have what I want. .🥲

YOU: How could the vending machine be out of Cola?

SATORU: I don't want soda. I want that dripping pussy in my face. I wanna lap my tongue up and down, swirl it around your clit, and fuck you with my tongue until you cum on my mouth. Then I'll do it again, this time flattening my tongue over your cunt, encouraging you to use me how you want. In whatever way, Y/N, 🥵 I need you to sit on my face. I promise you the second you get home; I'm going to live between your thighs for the night. 😏❤️🌶

The conversation progressively got hotter and hotter until you found yourself clenching your thighs together to stop the insistent throbbing. God, it was so erotic. You loved reading his nasty words and were disappointed when they abruptly stopped. Maybe he’d taken pity on you, giving you a break to enjoy your dinner with Shoko and Utahime.

You were stripping the second you got home, kicking your shoes off, tossing your keys in the bowl by the door. If you knew how to teleport like Gojo, you would have been in the bedroom instantly. Alas, you had to run for it, sliding inside, hoping to find a naked Satoru with a rose between his teeth. Instead, you saw him snoring, drooling all over his pillow.

He had teased you all day, ruined a perfectly good pair of panties, to end up passing out on you!?

Sure, he was the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer of the modern age, and he needed to get all the rest he could. It didn’t help that he had been on a long mission two days beforehand. But he could have rested after he fulfilled his nasty promises. But no, the bastard fell asleep on you.

“Morning Sweetheart.” Gojo walked into the kitchen with a yawn, oblivious to your rage. “Man, I slept like a baby.” He glanced around, searching for you, as he scratched at his stomach.

“Aw,” he stiffened at the tone of your voice, “did my old man sleep well?” Gojo watched as you lifted your coffee cup to your mouth, taking a long sip and glaring daggers at him.

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Old man.” You snapped before taking another sip.

Gojo scoffed, grabbing his mug from the cabinet and filling it with hot coffee, fixing it with five cubes of sugar and sweet vanilla creamer. “Why the hell are you calling me that for?” There was only a two-year difference between you two. So he assumed that you woke up in a bad mood or you were being a brat at eight in the morning.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” Sarcasm laced your voice, “I assumed you turned into an old man last night. Seeing that you passed out at nine o'clock last night. After you were a twat tease all day! You know, promising to eat my pussy in Ultra 4K HD.”

Oooh, that's why you were so pissed off.

“First off, relax; I was so tired when I got home. I just intended to nap, but it turned into an eleven-hour nap. And, you know I'll make it up to you, princess.”

“No, you won't.”

Your blatant defiance had Satoru choking on his coffee. He sputtered and hacked into his elbow as tears flooded his eyes. The entire time he was fighting for his life, you watched with a smirk. Knowing you were the cause of that reaction.

“I'm sorry, I must have misheard you.” Gojo took a deep breath, clearing his throat. “It sounded a lot like you just told me no. As in, you don’t want me to eat your pussy.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pressing your breasts together. “You heard correctly.”

“Ha,” Satoru shook his head, leaning forward as he rested both hands on the kitchen counter. “Good one brat. You and I both know you’re lying. Keep it up. See what happens.”

“What.” You said, tilting your head. Assuming you hadn't heard him, Satoru opened his mouth to repeat himself. “Ever.” You finish with a smirk.

Now, that was annoying. Satoru’s blood was boiling as he realized you woke up and chose violence because he didn’t eat you out last night. Annoying as it was, he’d be lying if he said your attitude had his cock twitching inside his pajamas. Two could play in this game. He'd give you one last chance to behave before he taught you a lesson you would never forget.

“You’re going to listen to me carefully, baby.” You whined as he grabbed your face in his right hand, squeezing your cheeks gently, forcing a pout to form. “You’re going to be a good girl, and stop being a brat.”

Releasing his grip on your face, Satoru grinned, pleased with the pout that remained despite not forcing It. Now that you had been properly scolded, he could enjoy his coffee without choking to death. But before he could sip the sugary goodness, your pot twisted into a sly grin.

“Make me.”

Satoru’s eyes darkened before gently placing his cup down. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as he walked around the counter, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. He dragged you across the floor, which was easy, thanks to his curse technique. He whistled a cheerful tune as he entered your bedroom.

Which is where you had been for the last hour.

“S-Satoru!” You cried out, eyes wide as your back arched off the bed.

Satoru pushed your trembling thighs further apart. His tongue gently flickered at your abused and throbbing clit as his fingers curled inside of you. His cerulean eyes never once broke contact with your face in the hour he's been nestled between your thighs. Satoru was a man on a mission. A specific mission that was going to involve you crying from overstimulation by the time he was through with you.

“Too much!” You squeaked as his lips sealed around your clit, sucking on it. “Satoru! Satoru, please!”

He ignored you, promptly sucking harder as his fingers fastened their pace, curling against the spongy spot inside you. With a strangled yelp, you threw your head back, trembling hands reaching for his soft, snowy locks. You yanked him back. Away from your pussy with all the strength you could muster.

Satoru could have easily swatted you away, but he decided to be nice, allowing you to pull him away from your dripping sex. God, he looked as feral as you felt. Eyes narrowed, mouth dripping with your slick, pale cheeks flushed red.

“Oh, sorry, did you say something?” His talented tongue darted out, cleaning your slick off his lips. “Sorry, I’m an ‘old man,’ so I didn't hear you.” His tongue went back to work, swirling slowly around your clit as if it were his favorite candy.

“Mnnngh!” you yelled, gripping his hair tighter, “Toru!” He still paid you no mind, focused solely on making you cum for the sixth, seventh, eighth time? You'd lost count after four. “Toru!” Your legs trembled under his relentless attack. Satoru hummed, knowing you were close. He sped his fingers up, tongue flicking madly over your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck! Ahh!” You cried out as you squirted all over his face. But the man didn't stop; he kept the same speed going. Determined to make you cry from immense pleasure.

It was getting too much to handle. Spots were forming in your vision as you convulsed under him. There might be only one way to stop this never-ending orgasm loop. One that would most likely result in you getting fucked into the mattress, but at least that way, he would leave your poor clit alone for the time being.

“D-Daddy,” you whimpered, “Daddy, please.”

Just like you knew he would, Satoru lifted his head like a puppy being called for dinner. The damn bastard had a shit-eating grin plastered over his cum drenched face. “Oh, you called baby girl?~” His head rested against your thigh while slowly keeping his fingers moving inside of you.

“Nngh, oh fuck, I’m sorry, Daddy, please, I need your cock.” You cried out in relief, relaxing as he sat up, leaning back on the heels of his feet. “Daddy~ daddy, please.”

You knew he couldn’t take much more of this of the endless foreplay himself. His cock was straining against his pajama pants, a small wet spot forming against the gray fabric. Indeed, he was done punishing you. It had been a long, amazing, but still exhausting hour.

“Please, what? Use your words, beautiful.”

“Please fuck me.”

Tilting his head, Gojo rubbed at his slick chin, pondering thought. “Fuck you? You want your sweet daddy to fuck you?”

His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, making you jerk slightly. “Yes! Please, Daddy, I'm so sorry.” Satoru hummed in satisfaction before leaning down and kissing you deeply. You moaned, and he used the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. The taste of you flooded your mouth. He always kissed you like this before he fucked you.

Finally, the torture could stop.

He hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting your hips to rest over his own. But much to your horror, he pulled back, smirking as he lifted you high and higher until your legs were over his shoulders, and his lips trailed over your inner thighs with nips and hickeys.

“T-Toru! Wait, let's be reasonable!” A pitiful squeak escaped you as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. “I-I said I was sorry, Daddy!!” Terror plastered over your face as he dropped to his knees on the ground.

“Baby girl, I am being reasonable.” He pulled your hips closer to his mouth, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. “You were so hurt and distraught over me breaking my promise last night. So I have to make it up to you. I plan to fuck you all day.” Blue eyes glimmered, half-lidded, as he stuck his tongue out, dragging it slowly over your entrance. “With my tongue.”

Before you could utter another rushed, heartfelt apology, Satoru’s mouth sealed over you again, sucking you like you were his favorite treat. At this rate, he was going to suck the soul out of your body.

Geto Suguru:

“Sorry! Sorry!” You hummed out before stopping right in front of Suguru. You made it a point to bend over, your ass brushing against his crotch. “My shoe is untied!”

Suguru cleared his throat as you pretended to tie your non-existent shoelace. “No worries.” His throat was dry, and you looked over your shoulder to find him staring directly at your ass. This was going exactly as planned!

Last weekend Gojo had asked Suguru if he was a tit or ass man. Usually, your sweet boyfriend would say something along the lines that you as a whole, was his type. But between the shots of sake and the three beers he'd chugged, he eyes you carefully in thought. His dark gaze moved from your chest before he leaned back in his chair, trying to examine the ass you were sitting on. The whole scene had your friends whistling and clapping at the way he practically undressed you in front of them.

“Ya’ know, I was a tit guy in high school.” Suguru downed another shot before he draped his arm around you, pulling you firmly against his side. “But since Y/N and I started dating, I can confidently say that I am an ass man, Satoru.”

This discovery had your curiosity peaked. So there was only one logical thing for you to do. You needed to put his statement to the test. For science, of course. Nothing more than science.

Your first experiment was to see how he responded to you flashing him. When he had just gotten home from the gym, you welcomed him back by lifting your shirt showing him your breasts. In all of his sweaty glory, Suguru didn’t miss a beat. He dropped his gym bag, tossed you over his shoulder, and carried you to the bedroom, where he got his cool-down workout in.

That was the typical when he saw your boobs. Suguru loved your breasts. He loved to caress them, hold them, and bury his face in them after a long and stressful mission. In all of your previous relationships, no one enjoyed playing with your breasts as much attention as Suguru did. So to hear him say, with his own words, was a bit far-fetched.

Thus began your experiment to find out what he really was!

Throughout the day, you purposely dropped your pen, bent down to pick up your keys, and, of course, leaned over his desk in order to retrieve a paper that had mistakenly fallen into the ground. Each and every time you glanced back to look at him, to see an almost distant expression on his face as his eyes were glued to your ass.

His staring was hardly a reaction compared to you flashing him. Either he had been drunk when he answered Satoru, or you weren't putting in the effort needed to truly test him. He left you no choice but to step your antics up.

“Y/L/N-Sensei!” Itadori beamed as you carried a stack of papers into the classroom. “Do you need help with that?”

“No, I got it, Itadori!” You neatly placed the papers on the desk, grinning at Suguru, who was talking to Megumi about his stance in the earlier training. “I do need to borrow Geto, though. Sorry, guys.”

Hearing you call his name, your boyfriend turned, a soft smile gracing his gorgeous face. “Okay, class is dismissed for today. I'll see you all tomorrow.” The three first years left the opposite way that you led Suguru down.

“I needed to grab the box of paper talisman paper out of storage.” You opened the door to the storage closet. “But I can reach it.”

“So you're just using me for my height?” Suguru gasped dramatically. “Has our whole relationship been a lie, Y/N?”

With a giggle from you, Suguru stepped inside, reaching for the box on the highest shelf. Now was the perfect chance to see how he reacted to your ass. You stepped inside the closet with him. Your darling boyfriend is oblivious to your mischievous intentions.

“Oh!” Suguru turned to watch as you shut the door. He didn't get to ask what you were doing when he suddenly stiffened as you squeezed between him and the shelves. “I was wondering where they kept the extra pens!” You stood on your tiptoes, rubbing your ass on his crotch. Suguru hissed, and you could feel his cock twitch in his pants.

“Sorry! I just!” Standing on your tiptoes, you barely reached for the box of pens before dropping down. You repeated this action several times, practically dry-humping against him while attempting to maintain your innocence. “They're just so far away!”

When you reached your fingers again, grazing the box, Suguru’s hand clamped down on your wrist, squeezing it. His labored breathing hit the back of your neck as his cock throbbed hard against your ass. The air inside the closet was suddenly ten times hotter and stuffier than it had been seconds ago.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” Suguru snarled, his lips pressing against the back of your neck as her hands grabbed the hem of your pants. “You’ve been bending over in front of me all day on purpose. Are you seriously trying to test me?”

You were suddenly pushed against the shelves with one of his hands as the other yanked your pants and panties down, pooling them at your knees. “What are you talking about?” You attempt to come off as confused, but hearing the zip to his uniform being dragged down had you shivering.

“Oh, don't play dumb. You were testing to see if I was an ass man or not, weren't you?” He ends his question with a smack against your ass. “That's why you kept bending over, you know, like a brat.”

“Still don't know what you mean.” Your act is slipping up as you hear Suguru spit behind you. A second later, his hot, spit-slicked cock grinds perfectly over your ass. “Oh shit~”

Sugar kneads at your ass, thrusting his cock between your cheeks. “You can keep playing the innocent act, but we both know you're a terrible liar, Y/N.” He adjusts himself, allowing his cock to move further down, his tip teasing the entrance to your pussy.

“I am? Man, what gave me away?”

“Your shoes don't have laces.” With a sudden and sharp thrust, Suguru slams inside of you, his hand clamping down over your mouth, muffling your scream of pleasure. “Silly little brat, you wanted this as much as me, Your pussy is soaking wet for me, and I didn't even get a chance to touch your pretty cunt.”

You scream into his palm as he starts thrusting into you, the shelves shaking, dust flying around the two of you. As boxes and papers fall to the ground, Suguru picks up his pace. Your pussy is so tight and wet. It feels so good to be buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck~ fuck your pussy is the best,” Suguru whispers slowly in your ear, his dark hair falling over your shoulder as he leans fully against you. “This is like my own personal treat for being good and not fucking you in front of the entire school.”

His words, the tone of his gravely voice, and the mere force he was fucking you at. It had you hurdling to the edge so fast you felt like a teenager again. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you convulsed around his cock, cumming so hard you thought you might pass out. And Geto, he wasn't better off. You'd been rubbing up his cock off and on all day, the ultimate edging.

His teeth dug into your shoulder to silence his moans and whimpers as his cock throbbed inside of you, filling you with his seed. You breathed heavily against his palm, gasping for air as he dropped his hand from your mouth to your chin. He turned you to face him, kissing you ever so gently as he slowly pulled out of you.

“We need to go home.” With shaking hands, you tried to pull your clothes back up. “I’m going to fuck you for each time you ground that sweet ass against me today.” Suguru kindly decided to help you with your pants, pulling them up and fastening them secure. “Hope you're ready for a long night, Princess.” His hand slapped your ass as you both headed out of the closet. “Cause that ass is mine.”

In conclusion, you discovered the truth: Geto Suguru was, in fact, an ass man.

Toji Fushiguro:

“We’re having dinner with a potential client tonight. Make sure you wear something nice. Not like your usual t-shirts and shit.”

His words rang through your ears repeatedly as you eyed yourself in the bathroom mirror. You'd show him something nice. The asshole dared to tell you to wear something nice?! Mr. Sweatpants himself? What a dickhead!

After he took off for work, you made it your life's sole mission to get dolled up to a t. If he wanted to impress your potential client, you'd make their fucking jaws drop. You'd be so hot; they'd take the two of you on as clients just in the hopes of seeing you in all your fuckin’ glory!

“I assure you, my partner and I can immediately get the job done for you,” Toji said, sipping on the red wine his potential client so graciously bought.

“You both came highly recommended; I look for— my God.” the elderly man perked up. “What a stunning woman.”

Toji scoffed into his glass; he didn't care to look at other women. You were the only one he had eyes for. You were the only woman that mattered. He did, however, pay attention to the older man’s eyes. They were following whatever poor woman was walking about. Watching the man in his eighties undress them with their beady eyes was a sickening sight.

“Oh!” The man in front of Toji perked up, straightening his tie. “She's coming this way, Fushiguro.”

The sound of high- heels clicking against the tile didn't have Toji intrigued in the slightest. But the smell of your perfume and the sudden silence had him whirling around in his chair. “So sorry to keep you both waiting.” You stood there behind Toji’s chair.

Your makeup was done, and your Y/H/C hair was styled expertly. Toji had seen you dolled up countless times before. That wasn’t new. What was new was the super short red dress you were wearing. It clung to your curves, leaving hardly anything to the imagination. Your breasts bounced, threatening to pop out as you bowed at the elderly client. When you straightened your back, Toji felt the vein in his forehead throb as your dress, which went up to your mid-thigh, rode up slightly, showing off more of your smooth skin.

While you looked absolutely delicious, this was not what he had meant when he told you to dress nice.

“Please don't apologize, darling.” The soon-to-be-dead client motioned to the chair next to Toji. “Please sit. What would you like to drink?”

“Wine, please.” Toji gritted his teeth, eyes constantly darting from you to the client.

Throughout appetizers and drinks, you made sure to lean over, stretch, and emphasize your body in every way you could. In doing so, you caught the attention of passing patrons, the disgusting man in front of you, and your boyfriend, who was fuming with anger. Okay, yes, this was partially his fault. He put himself directly in this situation. Next time, he’ll know better than to tell you what to do.

When they brought out the main dishes, the elderly man licked his lips, holding a fork out to you, noodles expertly wrapped around it. “Have you ever tried the pesto pasta here? It's my absolute favorite. Give it a try, Y/N!~” Fighting back a grimace of disgust, you put on a smile. You leaned over the table, opening your mouth wide as you took the food directly off his fork.

While the act of being fed by a perverted old man was disgusting, the delicious flavor of chicken, pesto, and garlic made up for it. It was so decadent that you moaned as you swallowed the bite. Hearing a sound that was for his ears only made Toji stand up, his chair falling back from the speed of his actions. His face focused on you before he grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N! Pesto has pine nuts in it!” There was a tone of faux worry in his voice.

“Huh?” Cocking an eyebrow, you were about to tell him you knew that. When he scooped you up into his arms.

“You idiot! You're allergic to nuts!”

The clanking of silverware caught your attention, and your eyes peered back at the table. The pervert looks pale, terror painting his face. “I'm so sorry! Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No! I have an Epi-pen in my car. I’m sorry, but we need to leave right now.”

“N-No! Please don’t; we can reschedule for another day.”

The old man watched as Toji hurriedly carried you out of the dining area of the restaurant, not once hearing the “Not a damn chance we’re doing this again.” From your very pissed-off boyfriend.

Toji suddenly turned and carried you down a hall before B-lining it into a family restroom. He plopped you down on the counter before locking the door behind him. His worried expression melted away, replaced with a darkened, more devious, rageful stare. The sheer power of his stare had you tugging your dress down in an attempt to cover your thighs. Something you had refused to do throughout the dinner.

“Oh no, you don't,” Toji’s large hand smacked yours away, “you’re the one that dressed like a slut, you might as well embrace the look.”

A shuddering breath escaped you as his fingers slipped under the skin-tight fabric, pushing it up to rest above your hips. The whole time his fingers grazed over your skin, you could see the anger in his eyes turning from a simmer to a boil in real-time. You were suddenly regretting your choices.

“Toji, we’re in a family restroom. Someone could hear us.”

“Oh? Suddenly, you're taking note of people noticing you? You didn't seem to mind when that dirtbag was eyefucking you all night. You left very little to his imagination.”

“Well, you told me to wear something nice, so I did.”

“The only place this slutty outfit is good for is in my bed.” He forced your thighs open wide, his fingers curling under the lacey hem of your panties.

His fingers were warm and oh so close to your throbbing sex. “Toji, they’ll hear us.” You scolded in a hushed tone, eyes darting towards the door leading out to a full restaurant of people.

Toji hummed and ripped the flimsy fabric of your underwear in half, causing you to gasp. “Then I guess you’ll be needing a gag.” Grabbing the back of your neck, Toji slammed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

God, he tasted like rich wine as his tongue slid into your mouth. You followed his lead, massing your tongue against his as he worked at his belt and pants. He deepened the kiss before pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your dripping sex, coating your slick all over his shaft.

“Toji~” You hummed happily as the tip of his cock popped into you. Your hum slowly grew into a whine that worked its way up the back of your throat.

“I don't think so.” Your boyfriend pushed further into you. Using his free hand, Toji squeezed your cheeks in his hand, forcing your mouth open. “You were just saying someone could hear us.” He shoved your ruined panties in your mouth. “So shut the fuck up slut.”

Tasting yourself, combined with his cock slowly thrusting into you, made you cry out around your panties. Your hands shot up, gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. The sting of pain urged Toji on as he slammed into you harder.

“I know I told you to dress nice, but I take that back.” His fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer, pushing his dick firmly against your cervix. “You flaunting your body like that tonight made me realize I don't want anyone lookin’ at ya’ like that” His thrusts turned harder and fast, his cock pressing into your cervix over and over again. “You only dress like that for me, Y/N; you’re my slut.”

Rolling your eyes back, you mumbled some unintelligible response back to him. Hearing the lack of words coming from you had Toji smirking against your neck as he nipped and sucked at your sensitive skin. Bite marks and hickey’s littered your skin, marking you as his. If you even dared to wear something so revealing again, anyone who would dare look at you would know you were taken.

Taken and thoroughly fucked.

Being marked, having Toji fuck you into place. God, it was too much, way too much for you to handle. Your pussy started throbbing, clamping around his cock, as drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth. Wincing at the sting from your nails, Toji released himself from your neck. Tilting his head to the side, he chuckled.

“Awww~ is my little slut going to cum?~” Nodding your head, Toji licked his lips. “You gonna cum all over Daddy’s fat cock slut?” Another nod, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Then what the fuck are ya waitin’ for?” Snarling next to your ear Toji fucked you as hard as he could.

That sent you over the edge. You screamed around your panties cumming all over his perfect fat cock. “That’s it, that's a good fucking girl~ cum on my fat cock.” He hissed through clenched teeth. “Cum on my cock, cum on my cock. That's it~! Gonna fill you up, take it, take it slut.” Toji’s head tilted back as he roared, pumping rope after rope of hot cum into you.

He remained like that, holding you on the counter, buried inside of you. Once his cock softened, Toji pulled out of you. You dug your panties out of your mouth. You were holding the spit-coated fabric in your hands. You looked between them and your boyfriend, who was stuffing his dick back into his pants.

“Who knew me dressing up like this would end with mind-blowing sex?”

“End?” Your panties were snatched out of your palm. “Baby girl, we're just getting started.” he wadded up the fabric before sliding his hand between your legs. “So I'm just gonna—” you gasped as he pushed your panties inside your pussy, “keep you plugged up until I get you home.”

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lordprettyflackotara · 3 months

Text

Chapter Nine || Hitchhiker || The Proxies

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: fluffy sex, shower sex, overstimulation?, squirting, Brian’s a simp sorry not sorry

a/n: enjoy this fluff while it last ;)

The calm pitter patter of rain drew Tim away from his slumber.

He was groggy as he woke up, his vision hazy as he tried to remember the events of the night before. He scanned his surroundings, recognizing your room in an instant. He looked down, realizing he was entangled in your sheets as you slept peacefully beside him.

You were covered in hickies and bruises, your body free of any clothing but littered in marks. Tim frowned at the sight, his fingertips lightly tracing the bruises in the shape of his fingers that lined your waist. His simple touch stirred you out of your sleep, your eyes blinking awake slowly. “Hi,” You whispered. You seemed so content. So okay with the fact Masky had hurt you. Tim sat up fully. “Hi,” He mumbled. He scratched the back of his neck, swallowing as you yawned. You sat up, stretching your arms. The sheet fell down your chest, your breast exposed and nipples perky from the cool air.

“I’m glad you slept. You were out like a light,” You say. You paused, remembering it was Masky who left you with a sexual relieved afterglow. “Or he was. I’m just glad you got some sleep,” You say. You threw the covers off of you, pulling yourself out of bed. You headed over towards the bathroom, opening the door. You were completely naked, Tim’s face flushing red at the sight of your ass giggling with each step you took. He could hear you turning on the shower, the water hitting the tub below. You peaked out of the bathroom door, your hair tangled and a mess.

“Wanna join me?”

Your question was simple. Sweet even. Unsurely Tim rose out of bed, remembering how Masky had handled you. Tim didn’t deserve you. He knew you were satisfied, pleased even, with last nights events. But you deserved to be worshipped and respected. Masky fucked you like a wild animal. It made Tim’s stomach churn when he saw another bruise on your ass, in the shape of his handprint.

“Um sure,” Tim said uneasily. He crawled out of your bed, following you into your cramped bathroom. You stood on your tippy toes, wrapping your arms around his neck. Tim couldn’t understand why you were so content. You were practically glowing. You brought your face closer to his, Tim swallowing as he moved his head back. “Tim? Are you alright?” You asked. The subtle differences between his and Masky’s behavior were becoming more obvious now that you knew the truth. The steam from the shower began to cloud the bathroom, but it couldn’t conceal your swollen lips and marked neck.

“I’m sorry I can’t do this,” Tim uttered. He dashed out of the bathroom, running face first into Brian. The taller male raised his eyebrows, the both of you watching Tim as he ran over to your bed. You noticed the same eerie proxy symbol tatted on his left shoulder, a detail you hadn’t noticed before. Tim shrugged on his shirt, covering the mark before you could study it more. “Tim wait don’t go,” You protested. You grabbed a towel, wrapping yourself and marching up to your bed. Tim couldn’t describe to you the guilt he felt, knowing that he in some way contributed to your harm.

His eyes flickered up to Brian, who was trying his hardest not to obviously look at you. “Take care of her Bri. I need space,” Tim huffed. Tim shrugged his jacket on, before storming out of the room. You turned to Brian, whose face was so red you would’ve thought he had actually watched you and Masky had sex. You awkwardly held your towel, the two of you avoiding eye contact. “So,” You said plainly. Brian awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, avoiding looking at you. “So, you know everything don’t you?” Brian asked. You could hear the sound of the shower water hitting the tile, the steam beginning to roam into your bedroom.

“What gave it away?” You countered. Brian took a step towards you, tilting your head to the side to examine your neck. “Tim would never leave you covered in marks like this. Definitely was Masky,” Brian concluded. You shrugged, pulling your face away. “Yeah well, I enjoyed every second of it. I don’t know why Tim’s so hostile,” You grumbled. Brian pulled his hand away, a rumble of thunder making your apartment shake ever so slightly. “Not hostile, try afraid. Masky’s the ruthless killer. You really think Tim wants his hands on you?” Brian asked. You thought about it, the situation more complicated than you had originally thought. “I suppose not,” You gathered. You raised an eyebrow as you looked at Brian, “Do you feel the same way about Hoodie?”

Brian’s face went a bit pale, the memory of Hoodie stealing your dirty panties flooding his mind. “More or less,” Brian answered dryly. You glanced behind you, paying more attention to your shower still running. “Do you want to join me?” You asked shyly, finally meeting Brian’s gaze. Brian gave you a smile, shrugging his hoodie over his head. “Lead the way,” He replied. You did as instructed, dropping your towel and stepping inside of the warm shower. The warm water washed away all of the sweat and grime that occupied your pores, your shoulders finally relaxing.

Brian had never showered with anyone before. He wasn’t necessarily nervous, he just wasn’t entirely sure what you wanted. Then again, who ask someone to shower with them if they don’t want to fuck? “How are you holding up? Knowing everything and all?” Brian asked. You hummed as you tilted your head back, allowing the warm water to wet your hair. “I have a demon attached to me. I feel like i’m in a shitty paranormal activity movie,” You answered honestly. You closed your eyes, Brian’s gaze lingering to your exposed skin. He swallowed as you moved to the side, allowing him to step under the water. “It doesn’t bother you though? That we’ve done unforgivable things?” He asked, the dirt that stained his skin now washing away down the drain.

“It’s not exactly like you and Tim had a choice,” You say slowly. Brian turned around, his back muscles relaxing under the warm water. You noticed the same proxy symbol tatted on his back shoulder. “And Toby?” Brian asked. You didn’t respond for a moment, reaching over and pumping shampoo into your hands. “I’m not sure what I think of Toby,” You say quietly. You began to scrub the shampoo into your scalp, staring at Brian’s tattoo. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Brian asked. You brought your fingertips to his tattoo, tracing it lightly. “Did getting this hurt?” You questioned. You gathered more shampoo and began washing Brian’s hair as well. Brian wasn’t the biggest fan of tea tree mint shampoo, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“I don’t remember. None of us do. Getting marked, I mean,” Brian elaborated. He turned around, gently pushing your arms away. He brought his slender fingers to your scalp, massaging the shampoo into it deeper. “Toby has one too?” You asked. Brian nodded affirmatively. He guided you towards the water, washing the soap out of your hair. “His is on the palm of his right hand. The kid only nibbled through his left hand, not his right,” Brian explained. You sighed as you tried to relax, your muscles tensing back up. Brian’s hands wondered to your waist, tracing over the bruises Masky had left on you the night before. You grabbed his wrist, guiding his hand to cup your heat.

“You know we have massive problems to worry about right? Ones that could wind up with both of us in coffins?” Brian asked. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. “Right now all I want is to pick up where we left off,” You admitted. Brian used his spare hand to stroke your cheek, a bruise forming on the side of your face. You knew it was from Masky shoving you against the floor, but for all Brian knew he punched you. “Masky really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Brian asked. You met his gaze, your pupils blown with lust. “Maybe you can make me feel better,” You suggested. Brian knew there was bigger fish to fry. With you now knowing everything, the possibilities of problems were endless.

But as you stood in front of him, eyes glazed over with desire, your core throbbing for him. He couldn’t help but want to be selfish. Just this once, he wanted to do what he wanted. Not what The Operator wanted. Not what Tim or Masky wanted. Not what Hoodie wanted. What he wanted. “Fuck it,” Brian muttered. He brought his lips to yours, pushing you against the shower wall. “I’m gonna be careful with you. Know you’re fragile,” Brian grumbled against your lips. His kisses were hungry, like he was desperately waiting for this moment to happen. He began to draw slow circles around your clit, noticing how puffy your folds were from Masky’s abuse.

You whimpered, Brian’s lips straying from your own and traveling over to your ear. He nibbled at your earlobe, your body igniting to life as he toyed with you. “Such a good girl for me. You can cum for me, can’t you?” He whispered. He slowly slipped two of his fingers into your abused cunt, your walls tight around his digits as he pushed them in further. “Relax for me. You poor thing,” Brian cooed. His breath was hot against your ear, his spare hand slithering to your breast. He toyed with your nipples, pinching and prodding at them until they were perky enough to his liking. The pain slowly subsided into pleasure, his slender fingers curling upwards and hitting just the right spot.

Brian noticed your body relaxing, your gushy walls now eager for more as your juices coated his fingers. “There she is. There’s my good girl,” Brian praised, chuckling darkly at the sound of your groans. Your gummy walls clung to his fingers as he began to pump them into you faster. “It’s not fair i’m the last one that’s got you squirming underneath me like this,” Brian growled. You could feel his cock growing harder, his shaft poking your thigh. “You know what that means right? I have to make you cum the hardest,” Brian snickered mischievously. Your cunt was already sore, your folds puffy and red. You couldn’t stop your whimpers of his name, his fingers relentless against your g spot

“Fuckkk Brian,” You slurred. Brian grinned into your neck as his hand slithered to your throat, resting over the hickies Masky had left the night before. “That’s it. Fall apart on my fingers for me. Go on,” Brian encouraged. His hand remained wrapped around your throat, not to apply pressure but to hold you into place. The cord inside of you snapped unexpectedly, your vision turning white as you creamed on his fingers. “There you go. Wasn’t so hard to listen to me, right?” Brian cooed mockingly. He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

“You sure you’re gonna be able to handle me sweetheart? You’re already shaking,” Brian pointed out. Your vision was hazy, the warm water making you dizzy. “Am not,” You argued weakly. Brian chuckled as he brought himself closer to you, kissing you deeply as the water dripped down his back. You snaked your way to his shaft, pumping it quickly. Brian groaned into your mouth, his cock noticeably longer than his partners. “Are you that desperate? Masky’s cock not enough?” Brian asked tauntingly.

“Want yours. Need yours,” You mewled. Brian ginned against your lips. “Jump for me,” He instructed. You did as he said, his strong hands holding you in place as your legs wrapped around his waist. Your back hit the cool marble tiles, Brian quick to rub his shaft up and down your folds. You shivered from the sensitivity, Brian slowly pushing himself inside of you. “Look pretty girl. Watch as your hungry cunt swallows my cock,” He ordered. You looked down, watching him shove himself in deeper. “You’re so sensitive, aren’t you?” Brian asked. He brought his hand to your puffy clit, drawing circles around the bud as he pushed in deeper. “Y-yes!” You cried out. You gripped onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Cmon now. You can take it, look at that. Good girl,” He purred, his cock bottoming out inside of you. You could feel his tip brush against your g spot, your walls beginning to relax as he played with your clit. “That feel good?” Brian asked mockingly. You nodded profusely, tilting your head back. He began to slowly move his hips, fucking you against the shower wall. “Go f-faster. I can handle it,” You pleaded. You met Brian’s gaze, the two of you unable to conceal your sinful noises as he railed into you. “Oh fuck! You’re so deep,” You moaned. He began to fuck you faster, his hips merciless as he rammed into you. His cock abused your g spot as he pleased, your thighs trembling. His strong hands secured you into place, his face full of pride as he watched you take him.

“Cmon, make those pretty noises for me. Wanna hear you," Brian encouraged. You were a squirming mess under him, begging for more as he railed you against the wall. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your gaze finally meeting Brian's. "Awe you look so cute, so fucked out like this," He cooed. You could feel your nails digging deeper into Brian's chest as your orgasm came dangerously closer. "Bri- i'm gonna cum," You warned, biting your bottom lip. Brian put his hand back on your throat, lightly squeezing the sides. "Go on pretty girl. Cum. You deserve it," He praised. His words of affirmation sent you over the edge, your legs trembling as you came around his cock. Brian could feel himself getting close, his large hands setting you on the ground.

Your knees weak as you fell onto them, staring up at your caring lover. He jerked his cock in front of your face, your tongue flattening out across your bottom lip. Brian groaned as he came, water running down his chest and splashing onto your face. His seed dripped down onto your tongue, your eyes fluttering shut. You swallowed all of his cum without a second thought, your eyes meeting his. Brian took deep breaths, helping you to your feet. You were dazed, your hands going to wash the suds out of his hair. "Not so fast, Lets get you cleaned up," Brian told you. He grabbed your loofa, putting your body wash into the cloth. Your eyes closed as he washed your body, his large hands treating you as if you were fragile glass. "I'm fucked, aren't I?" You managed to ask, your mouth running dry. For a brief moment, the stressful situation had made a grand reappearance in your mind.

Brian washed between your breast, his eyes soaking in every inch of your skin. "I'm afraid you are sweetheart," He agreed. He lowered himself to his knees, his gaze landing on your abused cunt. He knew that it was wise to continue the serious conversation, but he wanted nothing more than to make you feel good. Brian wedged his way in between your thighs, licking a stripe up your folds. "Fuck Brian!" You cried out, your fingers raking through his soaking wet hair. You fell back against the tiled wall again, your legs shaking as he made himself at home in your folds.

He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his large hands keeping your thighs pried apart as he devoured your juices. You were addictive. Your cunt, your moans, the way you desperately pulled at his hair. You were his addiction. One that he couldn’t get enough of. You were close to cumming again, this time it felt different. You tried to close your legs, the pleasure becoming too much for you to handle. “Fucking fuck!” You moaned, your body releasing. Your body shook as you released on Brian’s face, your juices covering him. “Holy shit, I am so sorry, i’ve never done that before,” You rambled, your vision beginning to see spots. Brian was quick to notice how unstable you were, quickly rising to his feet.

“You squirting on my face has got to be the hottest thing i’ve ever seen,” Brian praised. He planted a kiss on your forehead, helping you stand upright. “Now let’s finish getting you cleaned up so you can rest,” He said softly. You allowed Brian to bathe you, his fingertips grazing across your skin so gently you thought he was treating you like glass. There were many problems that were coming. Ones that you knew would be life changing. Ones that couldn’t be ignored or overlooked once you stepped out of that shower. But as Brian gently massaged your conditioner into your scalp, the worry you had began to wash away, just as the suds did.

Because you knew, no matter what, you’d have your hitchhikers.

—> next chapter

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yuyuzi-ling · 1 month

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First post here, and I have read multiple platonic yandere batfam with a neglected reader fanfics so I decided to come up with my own plan.

I did not read any of the DC comics and have only relied on batfam fics, so don't have high expectations because this may not follow the canon plot. Characters may be OOC.

Relationships & Some Plot

I decided to make the reader the child of Selina and Bruce. Their ages are complicated so I just made Bruce's age 26 and Selina's 25 when they had their child. Dick was nine at the time that reader was born.

At first, Bruce was excited having a child he can finally raise and watch their firsts. So he tried his best to be there for her. But as time passed, he realized that raising a child from birth is difficult because of his duties. He was scared of what kind of person reader will become if they're raised by him. Especially with how interested reader was with heroes and vigilantes as they grew up. So he began to distance himself from reader until he finally became cold to them.

Just like his adoptive father, Dick was ecstatic to have a little sibling. He doted on them for their early years but eventually got busy. The two had nothing to share with their interests and hobbies. He's a vigilante, reader was a civilian. He may never say it, but he got bored and so tried to make up excuses to leave the reader in order to do something he likes with someone he likes.

Selina absolutely adored their child. She always supported them and might have spoiled them when they were a baby. Unlike the other two, she didn't change her views. She was even disappointed at the two for ever letting her child down. Unluckily, she wasn't able to take her child with her because she knows how safe the Manor is and doesn't want her child to become fatherless.

9 years passed and Bruce brought Jason to the Manor.

Being alone most of the time aside from when Selina visits and when Alfred wasn't busy taking care of everyone, reader expected Jason to end up like their brother and father.

As expected, Jason was delighted upon meeting reader and even joined in their games. Unexpectedly though, he continued to stay with reader. Jason, who after quite some time, finally earned reader's trust and found out why Bruce and Dick was acting indifferent towards reader.

He was pissed. But reader told him not to do anything. Reader at that time, believed that they were only doing it to protect her and that city. After some convincing, Jason finally stopped his plan to ruin their lives. But he still held annoyance.

They got even closer to the point that Alfred noted that the two acted more like siblings than anyone in the Manor does. Selina was also thankful to Jason for being there for her child.

Years later, when reader was 9 and Jason was 15, Jason died. No one bothered telling reader about it. Bruce didn't because he was too busy mourning. Dick didn't because he was away. Alfred couldn't because he didn't want to see reader in their father's mourning state. Reader only found out when Selina arrived. Selina was enraged about it and fought with Bruce for an entire day. Reader stayed up in their room crying while it happened with only Alfred to comfort them.

Cass arrived. Reader felt like it was a fresh start. Out of everyone in the manor including Alfred, Reader only talked to Cass. They liked her silent company. Cass who understood the tension from both sides( reader & batfam ), didn't know how to approach the situation and so decided to give silent comfort to Reader.

And then Tim arrived. He arrived under the disguise of being a close relative of Alfred who was a victim from a villain attack and so had to stay in the manor. Reader expected nothing. Reader never made the attempt to talk to him or notice him unless he reached out first. Tim would make attempts to talk to reader and started to genuinely care for them. Reader was also slowly starting to care for him. But it was all ruined when reader saw him using Jason's vigilante identity.

Reader got furious, and saw it as Tim stealing Jason's place. They stayed in their room for days and refused to come out. They yelled at anyone who tried to talk to them aside from their mother. But even then, they still refused to come out.

It eventually got to the point where Dick had to come in through the window and half-drag Reader out of the room with Tim. Reader argued with Dick and Bruce with Selina backing Reader up. Cass silently and solemnly watched everything unfold, not having the courage to do anything. Reader told them how shameless they were for replacing their deceased brother, for Bruce not being content of having two Robins and instead got another one, and how Tim will also die using that suit.

Loosing his patience, Bruce yelled back at reader, telling them he's going to send them away to a boarding school for their behavior. Everyone was stunned. Selina started yelling at him while Tim and Dick looked at each other uncertainly. Reader glared at everyone before storming back to their room.

Bruce and Selina continued to argue. With Bruce defending his statement, saying how Reader will be safe away from them and will also heal reader's attitude. Selina thought otherwise and called him heartless for even daring to come up with such an idea. Bruce stood by his word and refused to listen to Selina so she stormed to her child's room. She told reader to pack their stuffs so they could leave the manor, telling them that they'll live with her from now on.

Surprisingly though, Reader disagreed. Reader told her that they'll attend the boarding school because they need time away from everyone. Selina was shocked and a bit hurt but agreed to their decision.

When the day arrived that it was time for Reader to leave, Bruce offered to personally take them to the boarding school. Reader ignored him like how they've been ignoring everyone ever since the fight. At the private airport, while Bruce was handling security affairs, Reader; who was left alone at the waiting area got kidnapped by three airport staffs who were actually people of Lexcorp in disguise.

Aaaand that's where I stop it. I might end up spoiling the whole plot. I don't know if I'll turn this into a real fanfiction. I have a plan on doing that but not at the moment because I'm currently busy. What do you think?

#platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #batfam #selina kyle #bruce wayne #platonic yandere dick grayson #platonice yandere bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #platonic yandere tim drake #platonic yandere #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth

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rin-may-1103 · 3 months

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Another drawing :)

In The Wrong Robin Au, Tim (incorrectly) believes that Danny was the first Robin. He saw him do a quadruple somersault back when he(Tim) was nine, literally the day after watching Robin do the exact same thing.

while Danny had used his powers to complete the flip, he'd still need at least a little acrobatic/gymnastic experience to make it look believable. (I highly doubt Tim would have been fooled if Danny didn't even have the right form and stance.)

This means that in my Au, Danny would have had to have taken a few gymnastics classes. Maybe his parents signed him up for them or something, I don't know. However, this will have an impact on Danny's abilities later on in the story. He'll be more flexible (without using his powers), better at parkour because of his sense of balance, and probably a lot more...

there are lots of other little details I'd love to go over, but I'll have to do that in a different post.

oh!

Here's the paper sketch because sketching digitally doesn't make sense in my brain. I was testing out different styles on the side because my usual style just isn't ✨good soup✨lately.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #art #my fanart #fanart #he's just a little guy #doing little guy things #don't ask how i did it #I literally don't know #one second i was just sketching #then the next thing i know #there's a full-colored digital rendition #with shading and shit #the wrong robin au #wrong robin au #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #ignore that it looks like his back was snapped #or something

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mamawasatesttube · 4 months

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from the gentle prompts list, "Can I do your hair?" :)

Tim stands in the doorway for several seconds, watching.

Kon looks... Kon looks amazing. They don't go to fancy events like this awards banquet thing too often, so getting to see Kon all dolled up to the nines is a treat. He's already dressed (a smart pair of dress pants and a startlingly delicate blouse that hugs his figure just so, paired with both a choker and a dangly pendant that keeps drawing Tim's eye lower), and he's perched on an invisible stool in front of the mirror as he does his makeup.

He knows Tim's there, of course, but for a few heartbeats, he doesn't say anything. Just keeps humming to himself as he carefully draws on some bold, winged eyeliner, then adds a bit of glitter on top.

Fondness curls into Tim's chest like a cat in front of a fireplace, warm and cozy. He drifts forward, drawn in helplessly by Kon's gravity, and brushes his fingers against the warm skin of the nape of Kon's neck.

Kon shivers. Tim smiles.

"Hi." Kon glances over his shoulder with a smile. His lips are an enchanting, enticing shade of burgundy. "I'm almost ready, I swear." He pauses, gives Tim a none-too-subtle once-over; his smile grows. "You sure clean up nice, gearhead."

Tim laughs. "So do you, farm boy." He rubs his thumb over the base of Kon's neck, smooths over the ridges in his spine. "Just about done?"

"Yeah, almost." Kon's makeup straightens up on the vanity, then slides back into place in the top drawer. "We're not late yet, are we? Lois'll never let me hear the end of it if we are."

"Nah, we have a little bit before we need to head out." A wry smile curls at Tim's lips. "And she's right. You guys all have superspeed. You really have no excuses for being late, ever." He pauses, glances at Kon. "What else do you need to do...?"

Kon catches his eye in the mirror and looks at him like he's grown a second head. "Uh, my hair? Obviously?"

Kon's been growing his hair out lately, like he did when he was seventeen. It's even longer than it ever got back then, now, reaching a little past his chin. It's soft and curly and shiny, and every time Tim buries his face in it, it smells like coconuts and sunshine.

Tim tilts his head. Kon's hair, like the rest of him, looks perfect. "Uh..."

And then it hits him. Kon's nervous. He'd deny it til he's blue in the face, if Tim asked out loud, but he hasn't been to a fancy-schmany kind of thing where people might judge appearances in a while, and even if he claims he's always been used to cameras in his face, even if he's a juggernaut with terrifying amounts of power in his hands, even if he can always pull on a smile at the worst of times... he's delicate. His heart. It's delicate.

He hasn't been to a big, public event like this awards banquet for Lois in a while. This is the first time he's going to one in a kinda femme outfit, with longer hair than he's ever had, with painted nails and glitter on his face. No wonder he's nervous. He's always been anxious about how others see him, whether he admits it or not.

That delicate heart, though? It's in Tim's hands, and he knows precisely how to keep it safe.

"Oh, right." Tim hums, trailing his hand up Kon's neck to toy with one of his springy curls. "Hey. Can I do your hair?"

Kon's eyes widen in the mirror. They narrow almost instantly, but Tim saw that look. Kon's always startled when Tim can see right through him.

"You better not ruin my curls," Kon threatens, but he lowers his hands to his lap anyway. "But fine. If I look stupid, it'll be your fault."

There, Tim thinks. Tim having a hand in his look tonight will make him feel a little more confident. If he let it, the amount of trust Kon places in him would take Tim's breath away.

As it is, Tim just hides a grin as he drops a quick kiss to the top of Kon's head, then starts to carefully comb his fingers through, to neaten up his natural part. "Yeah, yeah. Have some faith in me."

Kon sucks in a tiny breath, almost imperceptible. "I do," he says, his voice softer, gentler. He catches Tim's eye in the mirror, and though he doesn't seem like he can find any other words, Tim hears them all anyway.

"Yeah," he says, and reaches for the barette Kon left on the vanity. "I know."

#rimi writes #dio-icarticaae #man its been a hot second since i did a lil ficlet hasnt it???#timkon #tim #kon #ft. kons genderisms :)

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chiefdirector · 9 months

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Remembering | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

tw: some suicidal thoughts referenced (one sentence)

-----

“What do you know about your case worker, Kade Sullivan?” Grey said, still keeping his gaze on (Y/N) despite her looking away and back through the glass to watch Tim questioning Diaz. “We believe that he may have had some involvement into how Regina Diaz got to a position to leverage both you and the department.”

“Right. I never really saw Sullivan. He stayed away from me. I met him once, maybe twice. He likes to keep a professional distance.” She slowly answered.

Grey lifted his coffee cup up and took a small sip. “You’re a good judge of character, (Y/N). Did anything seem off about him? I know it was a while back but anything helps.”

“He seemed a bit odd, nervous even. But I put it down to him being paranoid about the operation. I mean it can’t be easy for these caseworkers to not have consistent contact with their UC’s.”

“What do you mean? Did you not check in with him daily?”

“No.” (Y/N) said, looking down. Now that she said it out loud, it was strange that Kade never requested to check in with her and Williamson often. “He wanted weekly check-ups. He never said why though.”

“Is there anything else? At all because the more you can remember, the less leverage Regina will have to bargain with us.”

“I’m sorry, Wade. I really am. I can have a look through some of my journals from that time, I think Tim kept them.”

Grey nodded his head. “Please. I guess it’s now down to Tim.”

-----

“Hello Officer Bradford, I’m glad to see you back in here again after your break. You kept me waiting for longer than I had hoped.” Regina said, posed as a wall of confidence as she had done during every other talk with the detectives. “I found it rather rude.”

“Not my problem.” Tim retook his seat opposite her. He had stepped out when Regina had started to get irate with him, he needed her as calm and rational, well as rational as a drug queen-pin could be, before he could get anything viable from her.

He remembered the day he had arrested her, how helpless and frightened she seemed. She was backed into a corner, but now she had a fighting chance and by God did she know it. “You wanted a deal. Let me say this one more time. Tell us about Kade Sullivan and I’m sure the District Attorney will be nicer to you.”

Regina smirked. “No. I have something you want. So I lay out the terms. You know what I want after our… exchange but I want something first. I think that is only fair, considering your situation.”

“My situation?”

“Oh you know. How (Y/N)‘s being back in LA will cause some problems for you and your colleagues.” Regina watched, laughing softly as Tim’s face twisted in confusion. “You really think that just because I’m sitting in handcuffs that I wouldn’t follow through on my threat.”

“Whatever it is, call it off. Now!”

“How about you do something for me first, Officer Bradford. Quid Pro Quo.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me how it felt two years ago when I forced (Y/N) to vanish. How it felt to lose your wife and not being good enough to find her.”

Of all the things he expected her to say, this was one of the last. He had thought that she would have asked to walk free, or a reduced sentence at the least, but she just wanted to relish in his pain.

She wanted to know how numbing it felt for him to filter by day to day, his reason to carry on with each day painstakingly stolen from. She wanted to enjoy the powerlessness he had felt when each lead led to another heartbreaking dead end. She wanted him to be reminded of each day, and how they got more and more painful as time went past. Her demand was a reminder of the nights he would drink himself to sleep because that was the only way he could close his eyes and not see (Y/N) face in his mind.

It was a reminder of how he couldn’t look at daisies without crying, or enjoy music, or find a purpose. It was a reminder that he had become a hateful shell of who he used to be, and that even though she was back with him, he didn't know if he would ever get that piece of his former self back. It was a reminder of how he planned for an easy way out for himself if the grief got too bad.

Regina wanted to remind Tim that she had taken it all away before, and that she could take it all away again. And she wanted him to admit that.

“So, Officer Bradford. What will it be?”

Tim launched himself up so he could lean down on the table and over her, “You should know how I felt. It was probably the same way you did when your husband died when the LAPD raided one of his warehouses. I was there that day. I took him, so you took her. But I got my wife back, but your husband is still six feet under.”

“How dare you!” Regina screeched, as she rattled in the chains, trying to find her way out of the cuffs. For the first time since she had been arrested, she lost her well maintained composure.

Tim took a step back from the table. “Thank you for cooperating. Prison transport will be here for you soon.”

“But what about our deal?! You won’t know what's coming without me.”

“I think we’ll be fine, Ms. Diaz,” Tim kept his back to her as he stopped at the door “because we now know that we were being hunted, so now we can prepare. So, thanks for the heads up. Enjoy prison.”

As soon as the door shut behind him, Tim leant against the door, trying to make sense of what had happened. Surely she was bluffing, they could monitor her calls and her visitation to try to not allow her to give any command, but if she was as intelligent and conniving as she had presented herself to be, she would find a way around it.

As he heard Grey and (Y/N) exit the observation room, he pushed himself off the door. Grey held himself strong, not showing any panic or concern at this stage, but his eyes darted in thought, clearly going over the possibilities of what could happen now. (Y/N) presented herself similarly, except her tell was the fiddling of her wedding band. She used to play with her engagement ring, but due to the dangers of the job and the possibility of it causing harm when in contact with a perp, she quickly replaced it with a plain wedding band, identical to Tim’s.

“So what now? You don’t really believe her, do you?”

(Y/N) moved to place her hand on Tim’s arm. “I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

“Then it’s settled,” Grey said, “We hope for the best and plan for the worst.”

Part Ten | Part Twelve

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e

Tags are open :)

#tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #the rookie #the rookie imagine #chiefdirector #bottom of the river

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months

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Oh my god, you laid out freelance inventor perfectly for the justice league to mistake Danny for Batman, especially with John Jones already making his thoughts known that Bruce wayne would be the perfect himbo for Batman lol. Does the entire league pull together to make a beach day seem intentional and end up making so many mistaken assumptions along the way? Either way, I adore what you have going. I'm kinda curious if you had any thoughts on Damians' first reaction to meeting Danny? If not, that's okay. I just love the thought of Danny bonding with Damian in a feral way or through sparing like ghosts tend to in this fandom

The first time Danny meets Damian Wayne is when he comes to the Manor for a surprise visit. He usually would have called ahead or messaged Alfred, but it was a last-minute decision to stop by Gotham on his way to Metropolis.

Initially, Danny was going to a technology expo hosted by Lexcorp, but it was delayed due to a giant fight. A robot had flung Superman through the convention hall, causing severe damage.

Since he now had a weekend free while Lexcorp searched for a new venue, he figured he would spend it with his favorite one percent. Imagine his surprise when he noticed the first thing he noticed was that Bruce had a biological son, one he had told to stay hidden.

He had told his displaced son not to venture out of the manner because he didn't want the public to know about him. Danny hadn't felt this angry in a long, long time.

The glare he sent Bruce had the man flinching, causing Damian, fresh to the Manor and not used to seeing his Father as anything but commanding, to raise an impressed eyebrow. "Kids. Bed. Now. I want to talk to your Father."

"No." Bruce cowered. "Please stay, kids."

"Sorry Bruce, I actually have to touch up some photos for this month's photo op," Tim was quick to say, jumping from his seat.

"I also really need to get started on some paperwork for the gymnastic gym." Dick laughed nervously, dropping out of the handstand he was in. Danny never understood how the young man could randomly spring into flips and handstands.

Damian did not inch from his chair, though. He meets Danny's gaze with a cool upturn of his nose and crossed arms.

"You have no control over me or my actions, Harlot," Damian hissed, but a pale Dick and Tim pushed him out. Jason had been out on some far-off island trip with his friends- Roy, Kori, Artemis, and that delightful Bizzarro who spoke like it was an opposite day every day.

He was the only person to whom he would not talk to Damian. Everyone else would look Danny in the eye and justify why they would assume that a child should be treated as a secret was the correct thing to do.

"Well?" Danny asks when all Bruce does is sit there, hands on his lap and sweating. He narrows his eyes, crosses his arms, and watches the sweat drip down Bruce's head. "Explain yourself."

"Danny, I swear I wasn't aware of Damian. His mother told me she had a miscarriage. If I had known, I would have told you-" Bruce started but was cut off by Danny marching across the room and practically snaring into his face.

"That's not why you're in trouble, Bruce. Why are you treating a nine-year-old boy like a dirty secret?!"

"um..well, that's...you need to understand he's a bit unstable-"

"Choose your next words very carefully, Bruce." Danny cuts him off, recrossing his arms. Bruce swallows before he seems to gather unknown courage and straightens out his back.

"Danny, I don't think Damian needs to be a secret forever, but he needs to adjust before he can go out. He had a hard life with his birth mother and tends to lash out in violent outbursts. Just last week, he pushed Tim off the stairway!"

That's alarming. In fact, it isn't very good to think Tim would not be safe in the same household as Damian. They talk more about it, especially the part where Damian makes clear he wishes to replace Tim and would do nothing to remove him.

Damian is a threat to Tim's well-being. He mentions this to Bruce, who waves it way like a damn fool.

"Tim can handle it."

"Just because he can doesn't mean he should," Danny growls, throwing his arms into the air. "I can't talk to you right now. I can't even look at you."

"Danny, please-"

"Nope. I will tell Tim to stay with me, and I will make plans to take Damian out and about. If you treat someone like a criminal, they will act like one. I'm going to help that young boy settle here, but I will not do it at the expense of another. Don't call or message me." Danny growls, strutting out of the room only to practically run into Damian.

The boy raises his chin as if daring Danny to tell him off for eavesdropping. For one second, Danny is reminded of Jazz, back when she had been so insistent that she was an adult.

His eyes soften, and he knows Damian can see based on his surprise blink. "H kid have you had the chance to go into Gotham yet?"

"Why would I waste my time with the peasants? I am an elite warrior, destined to rule over them."

Huh. He reminds Danny a lot of Jazz now, with her anti-social tendencies- not that she refused to be around people, more like she refused to make friendships with people her age because she thought herself too mature for them- and a little of the battle-hungry ghosts in the Zone.

He can handle that.

"You are to be a general, right? Why are you acting like a common foot soldier?" He asks, watching the boy's entire demeanor freeze over. "A good ruler is not just combat strength. They can take command and can easily step among their fighters. How can you do that if you do not understand the common folk's way of thinking?"

Damian opened and closed his mouth before narrowing his eyes. "You mock me."

Danny shakes his head, falling to his knees so Damian won't need to strain his neck. He keeps the baby talk out of his voice but only barely. He gets the sense that like his sister, Damian would prefer to be treated like a mini adult. "Never. I'm genuinely interested in your thoughts, but you must know that all knowledge is power. Know thy enemy..."

"...as one knows thyself," Damian finishes his quote, looking vaguely intruded. He considers the offer before nodding. "I shall accompany you on your outing and gain valued observations of the average American child."

"Only after you apologize for attacking Tim and tell him to his face how you will not be doing that again," Danny warns, raising a finger at Damian's clouded face. "A good leader does not want insubordination. Attacking Tim did not prove anything but how unreliable you are and how much you fear Tim."

"I do not fear Drake!"

"Then why does his presence so threaten you? Bruce told me how out of all his kids, you seemed so sure you could take him in a fight but not a battle of wits."

Damian's eyes grow cold before he lashes out a hand. Danny catches it quickly, much to the boy's shock. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Not bad, but not what a regular American child would behave. You would have been singled out as a spy the second you stepped in the street."

"....I shall work on my reaction and emotional regulation." Damian yanks his arm free, striding away but not before glancing back at Danny. "You are strange."

Danny smiles. "Thanks, kiddo."

The boy vanishes from sight, and Danny sighs. He must now find Tim and help him pack to stay with him. He also needs to yell at everyone in the Manor, including Alfred. Honestly, that man enables Bruce far too much.

#dcxdpdabbles #freelance inventor #part 5 #spirit halloween #Danny meets Damian and goes “I can handle him”#He refuses to let Tim suffer for Damian to adjust #Bruce is in the dog house #Yes Danny does yell at everyone #Damian gets to be a kid but still regarded with respect and starts to push for his Father to marry Danny

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deadsetobsessions · 8 months

Text

Okay, so maybe Tim has no business being in Bludhaven. Tim maintains that since his parents fail at parenting, he can do whatever he wants.

Besides, it's for a good cause. Like, not letting Tarantula get her dirty hands on his big brother in another time line. Tarantula had popped up in the Bludhaven servers - by that, Tim means the endless amounts of threads and underground fronts for criminal activity that he stalks on a regular basis- by being seen with Nightwing. Tim had immediately booked a ride to Bludhaven and bought another burner. He'd try to take care of her himself, but if worse comes to worse, he'd call Deathstroke. He's totally aware of the weird tension Deathstroke has with Nightwing and Tim's kind of banking on that.

Dick's been back in Blud for two months now, Jason having assuaged his mother hen tendencies enough for Dick to get sick of the Manor. Tim hadn't meant to follow since he had plenty of projects to work on now that "SAVE JASON" wasn't blaring at the top of his head.

But then Tarantula appeared and Tim saw red, remembering the way Dick spoke about her and what she did to him.

He bids the driver goodbye. The driver doesn't question his being on his lonesome mainly because 1) Gothamites mind their own busines, 2) Tim gave him a $500 tip to make sure he remains a "good" Gothamite cabbie, and 3) Tim made sure he was dropped off in the swankiest, most ostentatious hotel Bludhaven had to offer.

"Rich people," the cab driver had muttered as Tim closed the door. Perfect.

Tim got his keycard, having checked in under Alvin Draper over the phone. Normally, they'd require an in person visit, but money talks. And people listened when Tim had a lot of things to say.

Tim even feels like he's trained enough to go out! Lady Shiva's training was ingrained into his memory, and Tim's built enough muscle to make use of some of it. He is still nine, after all. He's so much stealthier this time around. Plus, he's got almost his full tool set back. Sure, some of the tech is ancient, but he managed to finagle it to make grappling guns and smoke pellets more along the quality that he's used to.

Tim waits until nightfall, looping the surveillance around his window to mask his exit. Tim adjusts his domino, eyes scanning the city skyline as his handheld computer (god, he can't believe he has to invent wrist computers) tracked reports of Nightwing through Tweetings.

Ah. He's around Seventh. Tim grimaces as his untested joints adjusts to the grappling guns. His dark clothes make him hard to spot, to his advantage as he tracks down Nightwing.

Tim watches, perched on an adjacent roof as Nightwing takes down a crowd of goons with the flips Tim remembered watching from afar and up close in another timeline.

"Blockbuster'll kill everyone you love, Nightwing!"

Tim winces at the rather brutal crunch that followed, Nightwing having punched the guy and knocked him out in one move. He watches Dick sigh, tugging at his hair in stress.

Tim could... no, no. He shouldn't think of murder as a first option. Well, no, he shouldn't think of Deathstroke as a first option. But he'll need to take Blockbuster out before anything happens. And he needs to threaten the new Tarantula before anything happens. He won't allow her to even get close to Dick.

Maybe it's unfair to punish her for a crime she hasn't done, but unlike murder, rape can never be defended. Catalina Flores is a dead woman walking.

Tim stalks his big brother back home and then broke off to begin his short reign of terror over Bludhaven's underground. If he can't get Dick to take a break (and Tim's tried, a lot, over the years) then he'll make sure that the next month is as gentle as possible on his older brother.

Step 1. Murder Take care of Blockbuster

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

No. Wait. Tim has a better idea. He's got dirt on them, on top of the murder thing. He'll fabricate Catalina's tax returns, embezzle a shit ton of money from the IRS, and get her and her corrupt brother (because getting your sister out from murder charges is considered corrupt) arrested and locked away. And he'll make sure they stay locked away with some good old blackmail on Amanda Waller.

Tim grins, tranquilizing the building with an ungodly amount of knock out gas pellets, to riffle through the police precinct's files.

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

Step 2. Cripple Catalina Flores and her brother with blackmail and the IRS.

In three hours, Tim has everything he needs to begin a temporary hostile takeover. He's got the names of local mob bosses, the big players, and the names of practically every police officer that takes bribes and their... sponsors.

He'll have to cut off Blockbuster's lines of supplies first. Then, blacklist him from local suppliers, mobilize the police precinct against him (by imitating his M.O. perfectly- Tim's not a fucking amateur- and pretending to rob the precinct blind), and then break his knees.

Step 3. Profit

Tim takes out his shiny new burner phone, enjoying the loud sounds of the police squawking through his planted bugs. He lounges on the building next to it, keeping an eye out for Nightwing just in case the man decides to respond to the crisis.

[Unknown: It's RR.]

[Deathstroke: New phone?]

[RR: Who dis?]

[Deathstroke: What?]

[RR: Nevermind. I'll give you forty thousand to shoot someone's knees out.]

[Deathstroke:... That's it? Who?]

[RR: Blockbuster. Bludhaven. Extra twenty thousand if you tell him he's got the spine of a sea slug, kick him in the balls, and post it on Tweeting.]

[Deathstroke: What did he do to you? Deal.]

Tim ignored Deathstroke's question.

[RR: Half sent. Confirm?]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Timeline?]

[RR: Three weeks. 21 days.]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed.]

----

Tim grins ferally, all teeth as Catalina Flores looked on in horror at her computer screen.

"Get out of Bludhaven, and don't come back. If you even think of going near Nightwing, I will rip what's left of your pathetic, sniveling swine of a brother apart. You will not enjoy the consequences."

Tim clicks off, watching Catalina and her brother launch themselves into mad packing. He tapped out a short message to Amanda Waller for her and her team to intercept them at the state lines. They'll never get away from Tim's fury. Never.

[Waller: It's done.]

[Waller: I will find you.]

[RR: You can definitely try, Waller. Good doing business with you.]

Tim can see the blood vessel the woman popped after he sent that last message. He laughs.

He saves Deathstroke's video from Tweeting onto his actual, spoofed phone. He destroys the burner phone, less shiny now that he's dragged it through two and a half weeks of breaking heads and terrorizing the Bludhaven Underground. Nightwing hadn't even gotten a whiff of his activities, this Dick being far less experienced and known in this version of Blud.

One more week and Tim can continue his other projects.

----

Nightwing, going about his vigilante business: wow it sure is peaceful

Feral Tim Drake, Nightwing's scary dog privilege: try me, bitch

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mangoisms · 1 year

Text

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter nine: i want to make it right | read chapter eight

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 5k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

Finally, for one last time, you surface.

Your senses are muddled, everything feeling hazy as you crack your eyes open. A gross taste lingers in your dry mouth and you try to swallow past it. Stiffness lingers in your belly and when you shift, it sends a piercing ache through you, so you stop moving, letting out a slow breath as you try to get your bearings.

The throb in your belly lingers even as you still. That, at least, hits you quickly. You were stabbed. Great. And here you thought nearly dying during the earthquake and losing your parents was the last time Gotham would hurt you. Looks like that’s not the case—you get to have your collection of scars just like anyone else.

The memories of what happened are fuzzy but… still in reach. Before you can focus on that, though…

Reaching up to rub the sleep from your eyes—you go for your left hand first, which tugs at the IV in the back of it, so you switch to your right hand, gingerly dropping your left back into your lap—you take stock of your surroundings.

You’re in a hospital room, of course. The blinds over the window tell you it’s dark outside. The light inside your room are dim, emanating from somewhere behind the bed you’re in, warm yellow unobtrusive to your tired eyes but still allowing you to see your surroundings.

The first thing your eyes catch are the sleeping figures in your room.

In a small cot in the corner is Steph, curled up beneath a blanket, golden hair spread out on the pillow. Her soft snores are easily audible over the mechanical hiss of the various equipment you’re hooked up to. Near her and a little bit closer to you is—

A man, asleep, whom you have never seen in your entire life.

But then, you look again, and you realize… That shock of red hair and tan skin looks awfully familiar. Handsome—not in a way that is attractive to you specifically per se, but an observation you can objectively make quite easily—and… familiar. So, so familiar.

You keep looking at him, slowly waking up more and more with each minute that passes.

Flash was here.

You know that. You heard his voice. His and someone else’s. A woman’s. His friend?

Is this… is this him?

The red hair feels like an easy enough tell but it’s the eyes, you think. It’s the eyes you need. You know Flash’s hair is red. A wild mop of it, windswept and ruffled most of the time—the same here. You know his eyes, too. Grass-green, twinkling with mischief or mirth or both, waiting to spring a joke on you. Visible with the type of cowl he has, one that reveals his hair, eyes, and lower half of his face. One might think it too much but considering that even you hesitate now to make that connection, you can conclude it does enough of a good job. To be fair, thought, the hard part—for you—is consolidating his presence, that he would be here—for you, unmasked and vulnerable. That… that’s something.

But still. Ignoring that, those implications… something inside you, something deep in your bones, is telling you that this is him. This is the Flash unmasked.

But you won’t know unless he wakes up. So, you move on to your last visitor.

On the other side of the bed, crammed into an uncomfortable-looking chair, is Tim.

Asleep, his head lolls at an angle that makes you grimace. Even in sleep, his eyebrows are furrowed. He’s closer to you, so you can see the circles under his eyes.

You watch him for a while, too, everything starting to come back to you.

The way he fought off that man. His interaction with Steph as Spoiler. The conversation you heard while asleep—conversations that are still blurry around the edges; the argument between him and Maybe-Flash is the clearest one, just because of the tension, their voices.

You take a deep breath.

Okay.

Your best friend, Stephanie Brown, is Spoiler.

It explains a lot. Odd disappearances, reoccurring tardiness, odd bruises and cuts, old aches and pains.

Those incidents weren’t isolated to just her, though.

God.

Of course.

Red Robin started visiting you around the same time Tim started avoiding you. When he kept saying he was too busy to hang out.

You’d put it together, if you’d continued to encounter both of them. But his avoidance distracted you from looking too closely at Red Robin. And of course, since you weren’t actively seeing him, it was even harder to put it all together.

You swallow, staring at Tim, hurt piercing your chest.

You just don’t understand why.

But in that next moment, you think you might be able to get your answer as he rouses, sighing, straightening his head.

You watch with bated breath as he rubs his eyes, then one hand goes to his neck, rubbing at the crick that no doubt formed from the angle.

Then he lifts his head and his eyes meet yours.

It’s been so long, you realize. So long since you’ve seen him, face to face. Last night (was it last night? God, you have no idea how long you’ve been out) doesn’t count. Neither does the day before, at the ice cream parlor.

But here he is.

Dark hair falling over his forehead, messier than usual, like he’s run his hand through it constantly, circles under his eyes, long, dark lashes fluttering as he blinks at you, lips parting in surprise.

Finally.

It’s contradicting, the way the sight of him makes you want to pull him close but also makes you ache, reminding you of the hurt, of all that he’s done.

How he lied to you and you can’t find anything that would justify that.

The entire time.

The emotions surge inside you, uncontrollable.

Your eyes sting, vision blurring with tears, and all you can choke out is, “Why? Why did you lie? Why did you do that?”

Your tears spill over. You’re too caught up to feel embarrassed.

His face crumples. “I don’t know,” he whispers, voice cracking on the last word. “I just. I don’t know. You were avoiding me and I…”

“Thought it was a good idea to see me as Red Robin?” you ask, voice thick. “How does that make any sense, Tim?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Hesitating.

What, mulling over another lie to feed you?

The thought is acerbic and mean and unfamiliar—a way you’ve never quite felt towards him and that realization hurts, too.

“Tell me the truth.”

He looks away, hands clenched in his lap. The knuckles of his right hand are bruised, red and swollen.

“It was… it was easier to talk to you that way…”

“What?”

Something cracks inside of you.

“You’re joking.”

Your head whips to the side.

Your other visitor, the one who may be Flash but also maybe not, is awake, sitting up, grass-green eyes narrowed in on Tim and oh, yeah, that’s Flash alright. You know his eyes, you know his hair, you know his face, and you know the anger sitting in his body, tension tight—you recognize it, from when the two of you talked and he was bothered about everything that’d happened to you.

But even with that, the animosity in him—on your behalf—surprises you. The air in the room thickens with something… odd, fine hairs on your arms standing on-end and you could’ve sworn the light behind you just flickered.

“Flash?” Your voice cracks on the word.

His eyes meet yours, softening considerably. “Hey, kiddo.”

It is him.

His eyes slide back to Tim and the anger returns. “Tell the truth, Tim. Stop digging yourself deeper.”

“I…” The way he trails off snags your attention again. Still hesitating. No, refusing. But…

“What do you even mean by that?” you ask, voice trembling, looking at Tim.

He doesn’t look at you, opening and closing his mouth a couple times, eyes darting around anxiously.

Did he…?

Did he figure it out?

It was easier to talk to you that way.

Humiliation bubbles hot in your chest. You squeeze your eyes shut, bringing your hands to your face as more tears spill over.

You can’t do this.

Tim whispers your name, sounding so pained, so agonized, it tears at you. But what does he have to be hurt about?

“J-Just get out.”

Silence.

“What?” he croaks.

“Just get out!” Your voice raises. In the corner, Steph jerks awake. You ignore her, you ignore Flash’s arm sliding around you, his quiet murmur to Take it easy, kiddo, you’re gonna hurt yourself.

You look at Tim. He looks back at you.

“Haven’t you humiliated me enough? If—if you were uncomfortable with my feelings, you should’ve said something! Not—do that! I messed up, too, I know that but—dammit…” you stop, turning away again.

“That’s not why,” Tim whispers.

You shake your head, burying your face in Flash’s chest. You don’t want to hear it, you don’t want to hear why he felt it was easier to talk to you as Red Robin, a vigilante you previously had no interactions with, rather than himself. Tim Drake, your best friend for over two years.

He whispers your name. “I did it… because of my own feelings.”

Your breathing stutters. The room falls so silent, you can hear a dog barking somewhere outside and the familiar sound of a wailing ambulance making its way through the city.

Slowly, you turn back to him. Flash keeps an arm around you, though, fingers tight in the material of your hospital gown.

The look on Tim’s face is unfamiliar.

Mostly because Tim Drake is not desperate. No. Never. And yet, the way he looks at you…

“I didn’t know how to deal with it,” he continues, talking faster, rambling, as if everything inside him is spilling out in this moment. “I-I didn’t want to mess with our friendship. I was worried that you were avoiding me and Red Robin could reach you when I couldn’t but then you started talking to me again and I kept coming back because with the mask, it was easier. I could do things Tim Drake couldn’t.”

He pauses to suck in a breath. He looks unusually pale, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. But the desperation in his gaze doesn’t change.

“But then it got out of hand. I was lying to you. But I knew if I tried to come to you, you—you would want an explanation and that’s—that’s fine, that’s what you deserve, but that would mean telling you how I felt and I—”

He chokes on his next words.

“What?” you ask quietly.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he breathes, agonized. “I-I can’t. Please don’t—”

He stops again, squeezing his eyes shut with a groan.

After a moment, he composes himself, looking at you again, so earnestly, it makes your throat ache.

“I’m sorry. For everything. I’m so sorry.”

You swallow at the sharp turn this conversation has taken.

It still hurts, though.

All of it does.

Even the fact that he—he feels the same as you do… it assuages only a small part of the ache.

And you…

“Okay.”

He swallows audibly, looking torn between hope and agony. “O-Okay?”

“I need… space. Just… I need space.”

Too raw. Too open. The wound is still bleeding. You need it to scab before you can see him again, before you can talk about what all of this means.

You need time to forgive him.

And with that…

“I’m sorry, too, though. For what it’s worth.”

His eyes are glossy. He blinks a few times, looking away. “You… have nothing to apologize for.”

“Yes, I do,” you whisper. “We both do. And we did. But I think what we need now is some space. Not—not forever, just…”

“I know,” he whispers.

The two of you look at each other for a long moment.

You’re still hurt. Aching with it. But another part of you still wants to reach for him. Wants to be held. Wants to hold him.

His eyes are full of the same pain you’re feeling but also full of an open want, a longing, the kind that makes your heart skip a beat.

But you can’t.

Neither of you can.

Not right now.

“Just tell me when,” he murmurs. “I’ll wait.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your throat tightens painfully, eyes stinging once again with oncoming tears as he slowly, reluctantly, turns to leave.

It’s so obvious he doesn’t want to and one part of you, a big part of you, doesn’t want him to, either.

But this has to happen.

Once the door shuts behind him, you start crying again. Flash pulls you into his arms again. Steph is right there, too, sidling up on your other side.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Flash doesn’t say anything.

He just holds you.

Later, in the morning, after getting a couple more hours of rest and some breakfast, you finally learn Flash’s name.

Well, it’s only after…

“Linda?”

You blink at the familiar sight of your old regular from Keystone City. Linda Park-West.

She closes the door behind her, dark eyes sliding to Flash, arching a brow.

“Oh, yeah!”

You look at him and he grins at you, a little apologetic. In the corner, nursing a big cup of coffee, Steph snorts a laugh.

“Sorry, kiddo,” he says, holding out a hand, giving you a wide smile. “Wally West, at your service.”

Oh.

“You’re married to her?”

Steph bursts out laughing. Linda does, too.

Flash—Wally, you remind yourself; it fits, it really does—doesn’t take offense. He laughs, too.

“I got lucky,” he informs you ruefully.

“We both did,” Linda amends, sending him a look that is so soft, you have to look away.

Your eyes catch Steph’s. She pretends to gag. You suppress a smile.

“How are you feeling?” Linda asks, taking the seat by your bed. The one Tim was in.

You close that thought out quickly. Thinking too much about it is going to make you cry and you don’t want to do that right now. You need a distraction. Anything, anyone.

“Not as bad as I thought I would feel,” you admit.

Barring the more emotional side of it, of course.

There is the fact that the nurse had come in not too long ago to give you another dose of pain medication but after sleeping for a little while longer, upon waking up, even without the immediate relief of pain meds, you felt… okay. Not great but not bad, either. It’s a little strange.

Linda and Wally share a look.

“Well, that’s good—”

A knock on the door cuts her off. She stands, going over to it.

Someone says something you can’t hear.

“Oh,” she says. “Really?”

More murmurs.

Steph stands, putting her coffee to the side and joining Linda at the door as the two of them accept something. Multiple somethings. Wally stands, too, going over to help them with… four vases of flowers. What?

“Who is that from?” you ask, bewildered.

One is from the Garricks, who Wally and Linda somehow know personally, one is from… the Pied Piper who didn’t sign off with that, but with his real name, Hartley (Wally has to clear up your confusion by informing you of that connection). Then one from your two regulars, those of which Steph also, apparently, knows personally.

“Babs—Barbara—is a friend slash mentor. And Jean-Paul is, uh, friends with her.”

There seems to be more going on with that but you don’t pry. Neither do Wally or Linda.

The last vase doesn’t have a name—not a full one, anyway. It is simply signed off with H.

“That’s… nice of her,” you murmur. Surprised but not put-off. Especially after what she did for following the confrontation with Batman, taking time out of her patrol to sit with you and talk.

Wally frowns, a tad suspicious. “Who—?”

“Huntress,” Steph says. “Tim’s close with her.”

This is news to you. But maybe it shouldn’t be, since she and him as Red Robin seemed so familiar.

It’s thoughtful—all of this. If not a tiny bit confusing, particularly the stuff from the Garricks and Pied Piper—Hartley.

“I told Jay and Joan what happened,” Wally tells you. “Barely managed to convince them to stay behind.”

“You… know them?”

“It’s a long story.”

“And… Hartley? I mean, he didn’t—he doesn’t—”

Still struggling to wrap your head around the fact that he gave his identity up just like that.

“Hartley likes you,” Wally says in the next minute. “Pretty fond of you, actually. We all are.”

“But… but I’m…”

You don’t know. You.

Just some kid from Gotham. You’re no one special.

You shake your head, evading Wally’s eyebrow raise. “Anyway, what about the Garricks were you talking about?”

Wally tells you. Just like Linda was his wife and started coming around to Circle K because of him, the Garricks did the same. But it’s not just because of that—Jay Garrick is a Flash. The first of them, actually.

“Uh,” Steph says, unsure. “Should I still be here?”

“Are you going to snitch?” Wally asks.

“Of course not,” she huffs. “I have a secret of my own, too.”

“Then we’re fine.”

“Right…”

“We aren’t Batman,” he says dryly. “I mean, discretion is key, yes, but you have the bonus of being a vigilante and being her friend. So, it’s fine for you to know this stuff.”

“Oh.” She seems lost on that prospect of trust. “Thank you.”

Wally sighs, looking at her, then at Linda. “I swear, even when he’s not within five miles of me, he’s still pissing me off.”

Oh.

It all comes back to Batman, it seems.

Linda sits back down, rolling her eyes. “I know. He’s a… real piece of work.”

Steph snorts. “Oh, yeah.”

You look at Linda. “So, then, Linda, can I ask why you’re here? You—I mean, I don’t mind! It’s just… the kids… and I’m sure you have better things to be doing…”

As you say that, you realize that her kids—the twins, Jai and Iris, then baby Wade—are also Wally’s kids.

God, today is so insane.

Linda gives you an evaluating look. “I wanted to be here.”

“It’s true,” Wally adds. “Threatened to hop onto a plane if I didn’t bring her here.”

She nods proudly when you look at her. Steph muffles a laugh into her fist.

You smile, too, shaking your head.

“And the twins are staying with the Garricks right now,” Wally adds. “So is Wade. They’re alright. Though we might bring Wade over here, depending on how long it takes you to recover.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Steph stretches her arms above her head. “And with that… good luck with this one, you two. I’m gonna head downstairs for some breakfast.”

“Bring me back a cookie,” Wally calls.

“No,” she says, then slips out.

You ignore that, looking at Linda, who gazes at you patiently, then at Wally, who grimaces a little.

“What was she talking about?”

Wally looks at Linda and takes a deep breath.

“We’re staying. Just for a little while.”

“Why? What about Keystone? And Central?”

“There’s Jay,” Linda says. “And Flash and Kid Flash. They’ve got it handled.”

Wally nods in agreement.

“Okay… but why?”

He sighs, looking at you. “So, we can stay to help take care of you while you recover.”

It takes a second.

But when it does…

“No.”

He says your name.

You shake your head. “No, no, no, I-I can take care of myself. I can—I mean, Steph—”

“She wanted to, initially,” Linda informs you. “She and her mother. But she has her internship and her mother is a nurse. Wally isn’t currently working—”

“Excuse you. I’m a stay-at-home dad,” he interjects.

“My apologies. He’s doing that,” Linda says diplomatically, though you can see the amusement twinkling in her eyes. “As for me, I’m working on finishing a book right now. With the kids out, if only for a brief period of time, we’re free.”

“But I can take care of myself, I mean, it’s not—”

“That bad?” Wally asks, cutting in a bit sharply. “You were stabbed. A few inches to the left and it would’ve hit your kidney. You got lucky, kid.”

“And what are you?” you snap. “My dad?”

Silence.

Tears of humiliation burn in your eyes. You squeeze them shut, reaching up to press the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Sorry.”

“I’m not your dad,” Wally says quietly. “That’s not what we’re trying to do here. We—I—care about you. Let’s just leave it at that.”

You sniffle, dropping your hands from your eyes. “Okay. I get it. Sorry.”

He sighs. “I know it’s hard. I know you’ve been taking care of yourself on your own for a while. But you don’t have to anymore. Alright? This isn’t—it’s not some kind of moral obligation I’m fulfilling. If you don’t want anything to do with me, because of the whole… superhero thing, that’s fine. But I’m doing this ‘cause I want to.”

“We want to,” Linda amends.

Your next words choke you, lodging in your throat with the honesty of them, the vulnerability.

But you have to say it. Knowing why Wally wants to, just because he cares and nothing else to it… he has to know. He has to know that—

“It’s not like that for me,” you mutter. “The risk, I don’t care about the risk. I don’t care about any of that.”

“It’s okay if you do,” he says gently.

“The trade-off, if I did, is not worth it. I would lose too much and I can’t. I can’t…”

Not after your parents. Not when you finally have people who want you, who are choosing to be here once again.

Steph. Wally. Linda. Tim. All of them.

You don’t care about that.

You know what it’s like to have nothing. And maybe your chances of losing them are higher now, knowing what you know about them, but the chances of them being able to protect themselves are higher, too. Whatever happens to you because of it is a mere afterthought to you.

So, you would rather have them with the chance of danger than nothing at all.

“Aw, kid,” he mutters, rising from his chair at the same time that you sit up. He wraps his arms around in the next second. He’s warm, so very warm, and smells like sunscreen and coffee. Linda sets a hand on your leg, squeezing gently.

His heart beats steadily against your ear. You release a shuddery breath.

You can’t ever let this go.

You can’t.

But the way Wally holds you tell you he isn’t going to let you go, either, and it’s a promise.

Steph returns with a couple cookies for Wally, and with Crystal in tow. She doesn’t work at this hospital—University Medical—and she wasn’t able to get here until her shift was over. Though she sheds no tears, you can tell she was worried.

You nervously introduce her to Wally and Linda. They both easily come up with a cover story about knowing you from Keystone. You can tell she thinks it’s all a bit fishy but she doesn’t say anything.

You understand why when Wally and Linda step out to take some calls.

“So, you found out, huh?” she asks, eyebrow raising, eyes flickering to Steph, who smiles sheepishly.

It takes a second for you to understand.

“Wait, you know?”

She gives you an affronted look. “Of course I know. I’ve known since she was a teen. Didn’t like her doing it back then but she obviously never listened.”

“I listened!” she protests.

Crystal gives her a look.

She chuckles nervously and amends, “I listened a little.”

“A little,” Crystal says dryly. “Then you were right back in it again. No matter. Can’t change it, especially since she’s over eighteen and well, she’s got some good people looking out for her.”

Your eyes shoot to Steph’s. Does she know…?

A subtle shake of the head. Ah. Well, you suppose Steph doesn’t need to give away identities to assure her mother she is okay. Hanging with the likes of the Bats and the Batman himself, it gives an undeniable kind of credibility.

“Yeah,” you say. “Guess she does.”

Crystal’s eyes catch the flowers. “That’s sweet. Who are those from?”

“Old friends from Keystone. Wally and Linda kinda spread the word among the regulars. Old regulars, I mean.”

“Nice of them.” A cursory look around the room. A frown. “Has Tim visited?”

Your heart squeezes painfully, your breathing stuttering.

“He did,” Steph says quickly. “Earlier, this morning. He had to fly out of the city, though, for some WE stuff in California.”

“He couldn’t have cancelled?” she asks, peeved.

“It’s okay,” you say, clearing your throat. “It was a really important meeting, I think. He said he would, um, call and stuff.”

She huffs. “Well, the least he could do is send some flowers, too.”

“You know Timothy, Mom. Not that great with the ladies or gentlemen.”

You laugh, surprising yourself. Steph beams.

Crystal smiles, too, shaking her head. “I suppose so.”

She and Steph stay for a little while longer before they have to leave. Crystal to go home and rest and Steph for work.

“Tell me what the doctor says,” she says to you. “And let me know if you need anything. And I mean anything. My supervisor can suck it.”

“No, Steph, she cannot. You need this work.”

She pouts. “I guess.”

“Don’t fret,” you say dryly. “You aren’t the only hero coddling me.”

“True!” She leans forward to hug you and you go easily.

She presses her nose to your hair, sighing. “I’m glad you’re okay, you know that, right?”

“I know, Stephie.”

“And…” she pulls away to look at you, guilt in her blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I was… indrectly lying to you, too. I knew what Tim was doing and I never—”

“Hey,” you say softly, cutting her off. “It’s okay. I mean I… yeah, I would’ve liked to know, just ‘cause we’ve been friends for so long…”

“I was going to tell you,” she confesses. “In June, actually, but then Tim started acting like an idiot and it just got so…”

You crack a smile. “Complicated?”

“Complicated,” she agrees, smiling, too. “But still. I’m sorry.”

“I know. Thank you.”

She kisses your head. “Get some rest. I’ll swing by later, if you aren’t already discharged.”

“Okay.”

She steps out and Wally and Linda both step back in.

Seems like they both went downstairs to the cafeteria. The former has another handful of cookies in hand.

“Want one?” he asks around a mouthful.

“It’s nine in the morning.”

“So?”

“I’d take it,” Linda says. “It’s a rare privilege for him to share food.”

“I share food with you,” he protests. “And the kids. And Hartley and Dick and—”

“Yes,” she says dryly. “That’s the point. Only with people you love.”

“Oh.” He looks at you. “That’s true.”

“I’ll take the cookie,” you quickly say, if only not to think about what that means.

He gives you the cookie.

You’re unwrapping it when your doctor pops in. Dr. Scott is a kind, if not harried, woman. Working at a Gotham hospital does that to you, you suppose. She tells you the scans they did came out fine, showing not too much internal damage, nothing you can’t come back from and that they weren’t able to fix, and that they gave you a booster against potential infection from the knife. She says you’ll be discharged at the end of the day, too.

That’s a relief, though you’re still not looking forward to the hospital bill.

When you mention that, they both tell you it’s being taken care of.

“Wait a second—”

“Not us,” Linda says. “We did offer but Tim said he would take care of it. It’s not quite better, we feel, since there are… others who might owe you that much—”

“No kidding,” Wally mutters.

“But he insisted,” she finishes.

“No,” you say. “No way, that’s—that’s too much—”

“You can’t afford it, though,” Wally points out a bit ruthlessly. “Just let the kid do it. He’s got the money for it.”

“But—”

“You can bring it up with him,” Linda cuts in. “But for now, it’s taken care of.”

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. Tim… isn’t exactly ostentatious about the money he comes from. Not in the way some of other rich boys of the city can be. But he does things like this sometimes. Back during your internship with Quickstart Enterprises, he flew both himself and Steph out for Thanksgiving break. Not to celebrate the accursed holiday, no way, but because you had the time off, time they would gladly monopolize to help you relax some and finally enjoy yourself.

In that time, he got all of you a room at the Four Seasons in Central, saying, for one, the three of them couldn’t fit into your tiny studio. You pointed out they could just stay at a hotel nearby. But they both wanted all of you to be together. And of course, you couldn’t just go for the nearest Holiday Inn, it was the freakin’ Four Seasons.

Obviously, you don’t begrudge him for it. It was fun and it was nice sleeping on a proper mattress with thousand-count sheets and having them within reach.

He just… he does things like that. You had to take a summer class last year, after failing it the semester before, but your degree plan didn’t allow for any re-takes, not unless you wanted to throw your schedule way off course. He paid for it.

Steph understands your wariness about it. Crystal doesn’t make loads of money on a nurse’s salary.

It’s hard, she once said to you, because it feels like you’re being judged, right? For not having the means to do it yourself? But really, for Tim, that doesn’t even cross his mind. He just… he takes care of his friends. It’s really as simple as that. I know it’s still hard, though, so… handle it how you see fit.

Handling it, for you, meant paying for snacks and tickets every time the two of you went to the movies. He let you, understanding why. Not without reiterating that you didn’t have to pay him back, that he did it to help you, because you’re friends, but still.

Back then, even with that, things were so much simpler.

You sigh, leaning back against the bed, heeding Wally’s advice to take a nap.

Things won’t be like that ever again but… you hope you can achieve some semblance of it.

With time, you think you can.

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