#and bruce making one of them his lockscreen

[webshood]

Jason has sensitive teeth, anytime he has a cold treat he keeps scrunching his face when it's too cold, even in the Robin suit, Bruce thinks it's the cutest thing ever and his phone is always out of storage because he keeps taking photos of his baby.

[suzukiblu]

Day thirty of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU. And yes I DID win NaNoWriMo, thank you for asking. ❤ This is the last day of NaNo, obviously, so I'm gonna take a little bit of a break from this fic due to being just sliiiiightly burned out from writing 1k+ a day in it for the past month and all, but I intend to start editing it and posting chapters of it on AO3 in the next week or two, so it'll be both easily bookmark/subscribe-able and updating on there soon!

They go through all the boxes, Tim suffers a bit for it, and Kon laughs and makes him suffer more, the bastard. It’s fun, though, even if now Tim would really prefer to never stick his hand in another box ever again in his life. 

The last box Kon directs him to is full of layers of distinctly cashmere-esque fabrics, and Kon smiles a little and ducks his head again. Tim is disgruntled, but charmed. 

They wander through the exhibits, and Tim feels pretty good about his activity-picking when he realizes Kon’s stopping to look at all of them and actually seems interested in all of them. They have to circle back a couple of times so Kon isn’t doing anything too super-powered in front of other guests, but they do hit all of them. Some of them are more interesting than others, in Tim’s opinion, but Kon still tries them all. Tim wouldn’t complain even if he were bored out of his mind, though, given how invested Kon gets in sorting and mixing the tables full of colored glass beads and making waves and whirlpools in the water fixtures and manipulating the kaleidoscopes and chimes and everything else. 

Kon spends the least amount of time with the auditory and olfactory stations, though he’s happy to try all the little hors d'oeuvres that Tim assumes are supposed to be covering “taste” for the exhibit. Visual he seems generally curious about, but definitely tactile wins. Like–far and away, does tactile win. They spend twice as much time at the tactile stations Kon is least interested in as they do any two of the others. Tim doesn’t mention it in case it’s not on purpose. He still doesn’t want to make Kon feel self-conscious or anything. 

Anyway, the tactile parts of the exhibit were the whole reason he picked this as a date activity, so what, is he going to be bothered by having made the correct deduction or assumption or whatever? Not freaking likely. Actually if anything he’s going to need to privately gloat to himself about this later. Bask in it a bit. 

Also take some notes for future dates and things to buy Kon and whatever else. 

More cashmere, to start. A lot more. 

Tim sneaks a few more pictures of Kon as they walk from station to station. Kon laughs at him every time he catches him and takes one of him too, which is incredibly flustering. Tim cons him into a few selfies in self-defense, which turns out to be a terrible idea because it still involves him ending up in pictures and, worse, involves him ending up in pictures with Kon, who takes the excuse to press in close and kiss his cheek and just be all kinds of appallingly adorable, the asshole. 

Kon uses the first picture he took as Tim’s contact picture and makes one of their shared selfies his phone background. Tim is mildly mortified but also desperately wants to earn lockscreen status, which is a terrible idea because what if Kon ever takes his phone out around the team or Red Tornado or, god forbid, Bruce? 

Tim should definitely make sure Kon doesn’t put him on his lockscreen. 

. . . but like, if he did . . . 

There’s a clay station. Kon stays at that one the longest, making weird little abstract shapes and surprisingly accurate miniature versions of the sculptures tucked away in the corners of the gallery with TTK. Tim hadn’t even noticed him looking at any of the sculptures, but in retrospect he never actually needed to “look” at them, did he? And on that note, Tim guesses the accuracy shouldn’t be any kind of surprising either–Kon must have a really good sense of spatial awareness, if nothing else, and of how things “should” be shaped. 

By the time they get through the last station of the exhibit, they’ve been at the museum almost twice as long as Tim’s most optimistic estimates had allowed for and he’s had to sneak off to the “bathroom” for five minutes to push their reservation back an hour. Tim has absolutely zero intention of rushing Kon, especially if he’s having a good time, so it just makes more sense to reschedule than to put him on a schedule. 

Though he did have to actually make sure to go into the bathroom to do it, since Kon might’ve noticed him not heading that direction. Tim doubts Kon’s paying attention to what anyone’s doing in the bathroom, for obvious reasons, but he still probably would’ve noticed the date he was briefly concerned might be a supervillain just ducking around a corner to make a phone call ten yards away, no matter how Bat-stealthy said date was about it. Like, that seems like a stupid thing to expect him not to notice. 

They stop by the gift shop on their way out–well, Tim detours Kon to it with subtle herding, anyway–and Tim manages to convince Kon to pick out a couple of things. He ends up with a couple of sort of fidget toy-type puzzles and a little three-pack of little tubs of a clay-like play sand in bright colors, which Tim thinks is probably meant to function as some kind of stim toy and was probably something specifically sourced to go with the event, and Tim “accidentally” throws in a couple of fancy candy bars from the front register. Again: Kon needs calories that weren’t directly sourced from cafeteria food from a definitely-not-OSHA-compliant cloning lab. 

Maybe Tim can send Kon a fruit basket or ten while he’s still stuck at Cadmus. Those probably come in tropical themes. 

Alternately, maybe he can just kidnap Kon outright and trap him in a nice new cul-de-sac until he gets used to it. He could get him actual groceries, then. Lots of them. Fruit and vegetables and entire spreads of “things that weren’t made in an OSHA-noncompliant cafeteria”. That’d be nice. 

Also he could send that Hawaiian food truck by on the daily, if they were up for it. 

They share the candy bars on the walk to the restaurant–meaning, Tim takes two perfunctory bites of each and tricks Kon into eating the rest with basically zero effort–and it’s . . . nice, honestly, just walking around together. Just being together. Not that this is new knowledge, after the mall, but it’s still novel enough that Tim can’t help indulging in and enjoying the experience. They don’t usually get much time alone together, much less time that isn’t spent either fighting supervillains or dealing with emergencies. So–it’s nice, yeah. 

Tim likes it, he means. 

They make their adjusted reservation, and Kon peers around the restaurant awkwardly as they’re led to their table. Tim resolves to do whatever it takes to get him to relax, up to and including embarrassing himself in some way or another. He’s probably going to do that anyway, given how most of these meet-ups have been going. 

“Does it qualify for ‘nice’ enough so far?” he asks once they’re seated, and Kon blushes, then flashes him a grin. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” he says, then bites his lip with a brief flicker of insecurity as he glances down at the menu–specifically the prices on the menu. “Um . . . are you sure you wanna spend this much on me, though . . . ?”

“I want to spend my entire trust fund on you,” Tim says matter-of-factly, and Kon lets out a weird little laugh and ducks his head again. It works a little better this time, since he has the menu to hide behind right now. 

“I already like you, man,” he says, which is still inexplicable but not something Tim is actually gonna argue with. “You don’t have to keep buying me stuff.” 

“I like buying you stuff,” Tim says. “I’m gonna keep doing it as long as you’ll let me.” And after that, he’ll figure out a way to sneak doing it. 

“Just because you like it?” Kon says, glancing at him over the top of the menu. 

“Because I like you,” Tim says. “I mean, no offense to the hostess, but I wouldn’t enjoy buying her dinner this much.” 

Kon bites his lip, then ducks his head again. His face is red. Tim feels the urge to kiss him again. He probably should’ve found time to do that on the walk over or something. Or as soon as he first saw him. Or just at any point so far tonight, because the urge is getting seriously distracting now. 

“So when you said you wanted to go somewhere after this too . . .” Kon trails off, flushing darker. 

“There’s a late show at the planetarium about the sun’s role in our solar system and the life cycle of stars,” Tim says. It might be too loose an association, but . . . “I thought you might be interested in checking it out.” 

Kon stares at him for a moment, then turns absolutely crimson and hides behind his menu entirely. 

“Okay,” he manages, his voice a little cracked. Tim’s pretty sure he could’ve said he’d rented them a hotel room and gotten a less embarrassed reaction. So . . . that’s a thing. 

Okay. 

“I really do want to spend the money on you,” he says. “Apartment and all.” 

“An apartment,” Kon says, glancing over the top of his menu at him again. “And bills and groceries and an . . . allowance.” 

“Yes,” Tim says. No point in beating around the bush, he figures. It’s all things he’s already told Kon anyway. 

“And not just because I saved your life,” Kon says. 

“Not just because you saved my life,” Tim agrees. “I just want to give you those things. Or anything you want, really. Which–well, what would you want?” 

“Um,” Kon says, just barely lowering his menu as his eyes skate away. “Well . . . could we like . . . keep hanging out outside the theoretical apartment and stuff? If we did . . . that?" 

Tim feels something absolutely giddy and absolutely painful in his chest, hearing that question. Just–what does Kon think, that he just wants to toss a lease at him and never see him again? Or just only come over to . . . actually, wait, maybe Kon does think–ugh. Ugh. Fuck, that is not what he’s trying to make Kon worry about here. 

“Yes,” Tim says firmly. “As much as you want.” 

“Mm,” Kon says, biting his lip again. His face is still red. Tim wants to give him every single thing the world hasn’t given him, which he knows for a fact is a truly fucked-up and probably borderline-insurmountable amount of things. 

But he still wants to give it all to him anyway, and then think up a few more things besides.

[idyllcy]

engagement shoot - tim drake x reader (pretty bird countdown #8)

"How many hours is that?" Tim blinks incredulously at your screen.

"Fifty? I've been grinding all my free time on this game. It's concerning."

"Alright, come on. You have a paper due and we need to take the engagement photos."

"Oh!" You gasp. "Wait, I have a photo — not that we have to use it, but a stranger took photos of us running at the beach during a storm in our wedding attire and somehow found me. We look super cute."

Tim looks over your shoulder at the photos, humming as a smile spreads on his face.

"You look happy."

"No shit, sherlock. You look like your cheeks hurt in the photo too."

"I suppose it did." Tim hums, scrolling through your phone as you hand it to him. "I think we're both happy."

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You hum. "Why are we taking engagement photos? Aren't we already married?"

"Bruce wants something to put on the fridge."

"Are these photos not okay?"

"I want a red booklet." Tim deadpans.

"WHAT."

"I want a red booklet." He deadpans. "I want to be able to flip out our marriage photos at any chance."

"A lockscreen's not enough?"

"You're the one who thought it was cute." Tim hums. "And don't worry about the legality of all that stuff. They make unofficial ones for foreigners who wish to participate."

"Wait. You're flying there just for a red booklet?"

"And to visit your family. Your aunts keep texting me to stay for longer this time around."

"And my dad?"

"He's still at work."

"Do they not make them here?"

"Do you not want to go back? Besides, don't you want an insane set of photos for our wedding?"

"We're having a wedding?!"

"If we have a wedding."

"The venues there are pretty..." You mumble. "or, you spend four times the prince to have one in Gotham."

"Pretty bird, your husband's a billionaire."

"Ah, ah, ah." You shake your finger. "Your dad's a billionaire."

"I'm a millionaire. Close enough."

"That's a three-digit difference." You hum. "I don't mind hosting it in Gotham, though."

"We can plan that for later." Tim sighs. "Aren't you longing for wedding photos that people will look back on and go "holy fuck they were hot?"

You purse your lips and pretend to think. "Mayyybe."

"Oh, you know what? It'd be hilarious for your sibling's children to say that." You mumble. "Who's that weird aunt with no kids?"

"Who's that weird uncle who will not shut up about our aunt?"

"I bet Bruce is going to have the time of his life."

"Do you think he's ever going to settle down?"

"With the way the writers can't decide who to have him marry? No."

"Stop breaking the fourth wall." 

You stick your tongue out at him. 

"So... wedding photos?"

"Yes." You grin. 

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: nothing really

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

a wee bit short but i felt like this moment deserved its own chapter

part twenty-seven

❝ COMMUNICATION ❞

SATURDAY — JULY 28 — 3:26PM

WHEN BENTLEY AND ROCKIE MADE IT BACK TO THE DORM, EVERYONE WAS IN IT.

As soon as they opened the door, they were greeted by a myriad of loud sounds — one of them was Valor, who standing at the kitchen making a disgusting looking brown sludge in his deafening blender again. The other sound, a repetitive loud slam! was Koa, Varian, and Asten at the table paying what looked like slapjack. Bellamy was the only one being quiet, sitting on one of the couches with a notebook in his lap that he seemed to be sketching on.

There were several heys thrown their way when they walked in, and Bentley made eye contact with both Koa and Bellamy and smiled sheepishly. Rockie made for his bedroom on the immediate, and Bentley, with an exhale, closed the door behind them.

He wondered if anybody else knew about Rockie’s medicine. Surely Valor did, since they were roommates? Or did he keep it hidden? Surely not, since he was so open to taking Bentley with him to get it. The whole thing kinda confused him, if he were being honest…

Bentley turned back around, eyes flicking from Valor, who was holding down the blender lid so it didn’t come off, to Bellamy, who was drawing with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in focus, then to Asten, who-

Who was looking at him. No, not looking — glaring, like Bentley had just said something rude. He glanced around the room, then back at Asten. It was the same kind of look Damian had given him that night he told him off, and it sort of made Bentley want to crawl into a hole and die.

Was Asten… mad at him?

Bentley absolutely wracked his brain for anything he’d said or done that Asten would get upset about, but he repeatedly came back with nothing, which only freaked him out more. Why would Asten be mad at him? He ended up standing by the door for five whole minutes like an idiot trying to figure it out. Nothing. Bentley hadn’t done anything. Had he?

He glanced back at Asten just in time to see him subtly hold up his own phone — as a signal, telling Bentley to check his. 

With an anxious breath, he dug his phone out of his pocket and clicked it on. There were a few different notifications on the lockscreen, but the ones that made him cringe the most were the texts from Asten. Five of them.

When he opened them up, the first one said: where did you go? And it made him cringe even more than he already was. The second was merely three question marks, the third one was five arrow emojis pointing up at the other texts, the fourth one said did you go somewhere with rockie? And the last one was dude, where are you?

Bentley glanced up at Asten, but he was looking at the cards in their deck, so he cringed and quickly typed back: I’m sorry, my phone was on silent.

Asten glanced at his phone when it lit up, tapping on the new text to read it. Then he suddenly said something to Varian and Koa (Bentley didn’t hear it over his own panic.) and stood, making for their bedroom. He sent Bentley a look that made him feel like he was about to get lectured by Bruce.

Nevertheless, he shuffled along behind him looking the human equivalent of a dog with its tail tucked. Surely that wasn’t what made Asten so upset. What did he do? What did he do?

Bentley followed him into the bedroom and shut the door, turning to face him not a moment later. Asten was messing with something on the desk, maybe his backpack? Bentley wasn’t sure, because he didn’t actually seem to be doing anything more than fidgeting absentmindedly. “… Asten?”

“Dude, you’ve gotta text me back when you disappear like that,” Asten started, brushing his blue hair back out of his eyes and turning to face him. He looked jittery and irritated in a way Bentley hadn’t seen in a while. Had he really annoyed him that bad? “I had no idea what was going on. You’re lucky Valor texted Rockie or I’d have told Bruce you were missing in New York City.”

Bentley immediately started closing in on himself, his gaze falling to his own feet. Rockie had asked and they had left so suddenly, he didn’t even think to tell Asten…

 “I’m sorry,” Was his reply.

Asten huffed lightly, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I had to learn from Summer that Tyler Abbott punched you in the face on the first day and you didn’t tell me.  Not to mention that Varian just told me about that Chloe girl that’s been harassing you, and your anxiety attack about Dr. Keene’s brother being your teacher, which you also neglected to mention to me. Do you suddenly have some kind of personal vendetta against telling me stuff, or what?”

Bentley took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed and already drowning in his good old friend guilt. “I didn’t… I didn’t want you to worry about me. I didn’t want to be in the way. I had someone with me, it was all fine.”

“No, you just didn’t want to deal with me having a reaction,” Asten spat in a way that made Bentley take another small step back. Asten’s arms were crossed tight, his body language closed off, and his green eyes were cold, a harsh glower Bentley had never had aimed at him until then. Why was Asten so upset? “Avoiding conflict at every turn only creates more conflict later. It doesn’t make anything better for anybody.”

Bentley looked down at his shoes, exhaling lightly. He had been doing pretty well not being a baby and stuff recently, but if there was one single thing in the whole world that could break him like no other, it was someone he cared about being mad at him. He guessed it was his fatal flaw — that every time someone got the least bit irritated he backpedaled and shut down so hard sometimes it caused more issues. He didn’t want to be a disappointment. He didn’t want to be a disappointment so bad.

Bentley brought his arms up and around himself slightly, tugging at his own sleeves. “I’m sorry.”

Asten let out an exasperated sigh. “This whole what happens at school stays at school thing only works if we actually know what happens at school. If I can’t trust you to tell me stuff, how can I trust you to keep stuff?”

Asten didn’t trust him?

“I’m sorry,” He repeated, bunching up his sleeves in his hands. Had Asten really just said he didn’t trust him? To his face? But they were brothers, what was Bentley going to do if Asten didn’t trust him?

“Stop apologizing!” He suddenly half-shouted, and Bentley flinched hard. “This is exactly the shit I was talking about. Stop trying to be Fix-it Felix and just have a damn conversation with me!”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, is actually what Bentley found running through his mind. He was thirteen, he wasn’t a baby. Thirteen year olds didn’t cry when someone raised their voice. They didn’t.

If Asten didn’t want him to apologize, what did he want him to do? Argue with him? Wouldn’t that just make him more mad? It didn’t make any sense... What was the point in arguing if he was right? If Bentley couldn’t apologize he… didn’t really know what to say. He tried explaining himself but Asten had shot it down.

So he just sort of stood there. He wanted to say he was sorry, because he was, but Asten was mad at him for saying that, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He was overwhelmed and empty and sad and guilty and he still just kinda wanted to go home.

And, to make the situation even better, Bentley Whittaker did what Bentley Whittaker did best.

Started crying.

He turned away when his eyes started to burn, but no matter how much he fought, he couldn’t get the tears to dry up and go away. He brought a hand up in an attempt to hide it to no avail.

“Shit,” He heard Asten sigh behind him. “Shit. B, I’m sorry.”

Bentley said nothing, just furiously scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeves in an attempt to make them stop watering. He wasn’t a baby, he wasn’t supposed to cry over stuff like this anymore.

“Hey,” Asten’s hand landed on his shoulder, and much to his own dismay, he found himself flinching away like he was about to get shot.

When he turned back to Asten, he was looking at him with this sort of appalled look on his face.

“I’m sorry…” Bentley mumbled before he could stop himself, using his sleeves to wipe the stupid tears off of his face that he hated so much. He didn’t look Asten in the eyes. “I didn’t… I… I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Bentley…”

“I’m sorry,”

“Bentley,” Asten stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, gently tugging him forward until Bentley relented and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m sorry, B.”

“I don’t know why I’m crying. I… don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Bentley muttered, resting his forehead against Asten’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you, I’m sorry,” Asten replied, rubbing his back lightly with a sigh that seemed more at himself than Bentley. “I just… I’m not…”

Bentley didn’t say anything, just sort of gathered the back of Asten’s t-shirt in his hands to make himself feel better. 

“We just have to communicate better. Secrets just end up hurting people. That’s all,”

…Asten didn’t want them to keep secrets?

Bentley pulled away from him, glancing up at his face that seemed totally genuine and totally unbothered. He furrowed his brow, wiping at his eyes. “But… you keep secrets.” He replied, confusedly.

Asten creased his brow, digging his hands into his pockets. “Bentley, you know everything about me.”

“You lied to me about the party. You were planning to keep it as a secret,” Bentley replied, sniffing lightly as his tears began to dry up thanks to the shift in conversation. Why was Asten telling him not to keep secrets when he knew good and well he was keeping secrets himself?

“But I told you after,” He defended, stepping back, crossing his arms again. “And I said I was sorry.”

“The only reason you ended up telling me was because you drank yourself sick and couldn’t hide it. You wouldn’t have told me if not,” Bentley replied, crossing his arms, too.

The sort of cold look started creeping back onto Asten’s face. “You have no idea what I would’ve done. I went back, and I told you, and I apologized. Maybe I was going to keep it, but I didn’t, so why does it matter?”

So Asten was allowed to be upset but Bentley wasn’t? About the same thing?

Bentley huffed lightly, turning away from Asten and heading toward their bathroom. He mumbled: “As if that’s all.” To himself, but it seemed that Asten heard it, because he piped up:

“What?”

Bentley turned on his heel. “Were you planning on telling me that Georgia cheated on Rockie with you? Or were you just going to keep that a secret and lie to my face about knowing everything about you?”

Asten’s face fell, and a myriad of emotions flashed across it in quick succession — shock, fear, guilt, anger, one that looked like he might start crying, a moment of being offended, some kind of terror, and then settled on…. something subtle, and sad. He took another step back and crossed his arms tighter, closing up like Bentley did. He opened his mouth and closed it about six times.

Bentley didn’t say anything, and immediately regret began clawing its way up his ankles. He hadn’t been planning to just say it like that (or at all), and now that he had he… didn’t know what to do… so he just stood there. (Shit.)

Asten’s eyes fell to the floor, and he backed up until he was leaning against their desk. Bentley stepped forward once because it sort of looked like he was about to pass out. “Who else knows?” His voice was quiet, nearly inaudible, and he didn’t bring his eyes up.

“Just me and Summer,” Bentley continued, fidgeting with his fingers in front of him, glancing at the floor. “… Georgia told her and… I overheard by accident. Is… that what you were crying about the other night?”

Asten didn’t say anything, he just continued to look everywhere but at Bentley and slid down until he was sitting in the desk chair.

Bentley took a deep breath. “Asten?”

“She didn’t tell me,” He said hoarsely, shaking his head. “She didn’t say anything about Rockie. And I didn’t… I told her to stop, and she…”

Bentley watched his expression change a few times before it settled on one that looked freakily close to crying. “I don’t… I…”

He tried to struggle through more words, but it seemed like he didn’t know what he was trying to say. He just sort of fiddled with his fingers and ran his hands through his hair and looked all-around the most anxious he ever had. “I didn’t… I didn't tell you because I… I can’t talk about it, B.”

And for some reason, despite the facial queues and body language and the sensitive topic, Bentley was still caught off guard when Asten looked away, covered his face, and subtly rubbed at his eyes.

Well, dang. Now they’d both made each other cry. 

Bentley exhaled lightly and moved forward until he was next to the chair. As if that would make his predicament any better. Asten Evans crying about the same thing twice meant it must’ve been hurting him bad bad.

Asten didn’t move. “I can’t deal with this shit, B,” He choked out, burying his face in his hands so his next words came out thick with emotion and muffled. “I can never stop thinking about it. Every time I see her… every time I see him… every time I see something that relates to either of them, I... I don’t know what to do, I…”

Bentley didn’t say anything, because what was he supposed to say?

“I spend every second of every day in dread, and I… God, Bentley, this is just… it’s ruining me. I don’t know what to do,” He cried softly into his own hands, and tentatively, Bentley lifted a hand and rested it on his shoulder. “I hate it here, B. I just wanna go home. High school is shit. Everything here is shit.”

Bentley exhaled lightly, rubbing Asten’s shoulder slightly. “Bruce will take you home.”

“So I can tell him I snuck out, got drunk, and made out with someone else’s girlfriend on, like, the second day?” He asked, voice cracking. He flicked a glance Bentley’s way but immediately looked back at the desk. “Hell no.”

“It’s not your fault,” Bentley tried softly. “I heard Georgia and Summer talking about it. She knew you didn’t want to and she did it anyways… She’s been cheating for years. You’re not the bad guy.”

“I let her kiss me. I should’ve set her on fire,” He sniffled lightly, lacing one of his hands in his hair. “What… what the hell do we do, B?”

Bentley breathed in and out. “Maybe we should… I don’t know. Maybe you should… call Dick. I don’t know any details for sure but I… think something like this may have happened to him before.”

Asten tensed just at the suggestion.  “Absolutely not. Telling Dick is a one-way ticket to telling Bruce,” He shook his head. “And full-paid trip to new foster home land.”

“Bruce won’t get rid of you,” Bentley replied, squeezing Asten’s shoulder. “All the crazy crap and lying and nearly getting killed that we’ve been through and… he hasn’t gotten rid of me. He said he never would.”

“But you’re his kid,” Asten replied, glancing up at him. “I’m not. I just live in his house.”

“He loves you,”

“He loves me because I live with him. If I didn’t, he wouldn’t,” Asten sniffled, looking back down. Bentley didn’t miss the flash of pain that rippled across his red-tinted features at the statement. “I’m such a screw up. Not even a week and a half into public high school and I’ve gone and made everything into a shitstorm.”

“You’re not a screw up,” Was all Bentley found it in himself to reply.

“I can’t go anywhere without screwing something up, B,” He shook his head. “It just follows me around like some kind of plague.”

Bentley knew all too well how that felt.

“I don’t know what to do,” Asten finalized, resting his elbows on the desk and digging his head into his hands. “It takes everything I have just to act normal. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay. We’ll figure something out,” Bentley mumbled, wracking his brain for any kind of solution that didn’t count telling their family. Or Rockie. He assumed that was off of the list, too. “I promise. It’ll be okay.”

“We can’t say anything,” Asten sniffed. “Right now, we can’t tell anybody.”

“Okay,” Bentley sighed. “Okay. We won’t say anything. We’ll act normal.”

Asten said nothing, and for a while, he just stayed shut in their room and cried.

(If this was how all of high school was, Bentley wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore.)

--

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[fordarkisthesuede]

Omg, I’m the one that wrote the last anon ask! 😂 I meant the fan art that goes with your fics! Stupid autocorrect!

OHHHH~! Okay, that makes sense. Thanks for clarifying!

It took a bit to find them all (most were in my #atbom tag thankfully) - I don't want to directly repost them as images here, so I hope you don't mind links! 😉

SO: here is the mind-blowingly-awesome work by @i-bet-you-wish-i depicting a faux-game character status screen of John in his tux for The Tolls of Justice. I'm still in love with it!!! 😭 And here is their depiction of Joker and Tiffany for At the Brink of Midnight! (I still love Tiffany's outfit and expression here.)

Here is the commission I bought from the ever-wonderful @batsylovesjoky depicting John and Bruce's first proper hug in At the Brink of Midnight!!! 🥰 If I had more space on my wall, I'd frame it properly! (One day...I'll have ALL the space...)

I've also got this super-cute depiction of detective-John here from @littlebigdalek for At the Brink of Midnight!!! And their alternate version, lol~

And here is the VERY sweet gift from the talented @freddie-luthor that I have never gotten over receiving out of the blue for At the Brink of Midnight. Freddie-Lu, you might not post art here anymore, but I still love you for this!!! It's my phone's lockscreen 80% of the time! 🥺

[incoherentbabblings]

Fluff 12 and angst 2 please for Timsteph? I'd ask for Jaybette but they are not canon. Happy birthday!

Birthday Ask Game

Thank you so much for the ask and birthday wishes! I hope you enjoy this one!

Fluff #12 “Am I your lock screen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” & Angst #2 “Please don’t cry”

Waiting sucked. It was part of life, Stephanie knew this, but still. It sucked. Bruce had given her special dispensation to come and go from Wayne Enterprises as she pleased, though she didn’t make as much use of it as she could. It was a world not for her. Everyone in suits rushing around running a multi-billion company, and Steph, in shorts and t-shirt, lingering outside Tim’s office.

“You can go in Stephanie,” Tim’s secretary said. Because Tim had one of those. “He’ll be back in a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Oh. Thank you.” And she pushed a pull door, cursing as she heard the secretary chuckle quietly to herself, and slid inside.

Dropping her backpack on the leather sofa, she became desperate for something to do, and wandered around.

She wasn’t trying to be nosy, but exploring Tim’s workspace with him absent was... too juicy an opportunity.

Disappointingly, there was nothing exciting. She wasn’t about to go snooping through his work, but she was curious about what – if anything – he had that was personal. He was such a closed book these days, any hint she could wriggle out about where his emotional state was worth investigating.

But, no, there was nothing. No unique books, no photographs, nothing. Even his computer screensaver was something Wayne Industries related. She sat at his desk, rocking back and forth, waiting for him to arrive.

His cell phone sat face up, and though she was tempted to touch it, she didn’t.

Tim came in then, looking withdrawn, and she rose, smiling. He seemed surprised that she was even here and froze. She did not miss the ways his eye lit up, just for a moment, and she did not miss his mouth twitch. It was like he wanted to smile, but something was preventing him.

“Why are you here?” He asked.

Stephanie smile widened, trying to be blithe. “Thought you could give me a helping hand. I’m stuck on some work.”

It was a case she had in fact been struggling with – unable to track the origin of rumours of missing children – and Stephanie had enough pride to know when she needed to ask for help.

Tim looked more than a little delighted at her query for help, though still confused why she had not waited until the evening to ask.

“Sure Steph. Why ask now?”

“Well I thought –”

Tim’s phone buzzed and lit up. Instinctively at the sound of a notification, she looked down. Tim went pale, though she didn’t notice.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably at his lock screen photo. It was them, a couple of weeks after his sixteenth birthday. Steph had taken him to one of Gotham’s skate parks. He had been so shaken after Bruce’s sick test, she had just wanted to provide a distraction. She’d just wanted him to rest. She’d taken a dozen selfies during their day out. Tim had obviously held onto them. It was the two of them, Steph leaning over his shoulder, Tim with a scaped cheek from when he’d fallen. They both looked very young and very happy.

Half a lifetime ago it felt.

She looked up at Tim, who looked sick with guilt. An uncomfortable stretch of time passed. Stephanie was not Tim’s girlfriend anymore. She barely counted as an acquaintance half the time. That photo was used only for one of two reasons: Tim still thought of her as more and used the photo both to comfort or torture himself.

Stephanie thought of her own lockscreen and wallpaper – some generic pictures of flowers and food and frowned.

Tim tried to get the conversation back on track and walked over to pick his phone up.

“We can chat about the case in here. It’s all safe and soundproofed.”

Stephanie caught his wrist that was holding his phone as he picked it up, and Tim froze.

“Am I your lock screen?” She whispered.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Tim.” She begged, trying to catch his eye. “Why that photo?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I can change it if you want. If it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No. Answer the question. Why us? Why not your parents? Or Conner and you and Bart? Or you and Cass? Please tell me it’s not to hurt yourself.”

“What?” He looked mortified.

“I just don’t want you to look at those photos and time and feel sad because I hurt you or because it’s gone. I don’t want to hurt you like that and...”

She quietened and Tim’s thumb brushed her cheek as soon as a tear fell.

“Please don’t cry. Steph, if it upsets you, I’ll change it.”

“Doesn’t it upset you?”

“I’m not that masochistic.” He shrugged and unlocked his phone. HIs wallpaper was his father, mother and baby Tim. He tapped his phone a couple of times and brought up his photo gallery. It was arranged very neatly, into folders and subfolders. Gotham, San Francisco, Friends and Family... He tapped the last folder, then tapped family. Stephanie held her breath as he did so. Her folder was crammed pack full.

“I save photos, not just take them,” He explained. “So there’s a few from your social media. But I want to keep this stuff with me. Good memories. Promises more in future years. I need that sometimes.”

She chewed her index finger as she listened, allowing him to hold onto her waist.

“That day was a good day. I wanted to remember it. I can pick something else. I don’t want you uncomfortable.”

She reached up to tap at the photos, which Tim allowed her to do, showing no reservations of her going through his private photos. Quietly she went through many years, including ones he could have only gotten by asking her mother for copies. She laughed and smiled, eyes drying up. She noted there weren’t many from recent months.

“I want you to change your lock screen.” She said, looking up at him.

Tim’s face crumpled a little. She leaned in to nuzzle at his neck.

“I came to ask for help because I wanted to spend more time with you in and out the costumes.” His breath pushed back her hair as he exhaled heavily in relief. She couldn’t help herself, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, enjoying the soft gasp he made as she did so. “You can take a newer one?”

Finally, he relaxed, and the colour returned to his face. “I would like that.”

[batboysandgirls]

Tim Drake x Reader - Explosions And Other Saturday Morning Activities - PART 2

PART ONE HERE, PART THREE HERE, and PART FOUR HERE! Title: Explosions And Other Saturday Morning Activities - PART 2 Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: After discovering Tim Drake’s identity in an attack on Wayne Tower, you return to life as a Wayne Enterprises intern... but there’s a few problems.  Problems include (but are not limited to): going on a lunch date with Tim that is definitely not a lunch date, being the reason #timistaken is trending on Twitter, and getting kidnapped.  Typical Batfamily-adjacent issues, right? ... Right? Notes: Canon-typical descriptions of violence and injuries. Words: 4.4k

“I can’t believe you came in today!” Liza from social media management said.  “You’re so brave.”

You were trying not to roll your eyes.  If one more person called you “brave,” “strong,” or “tough” because you survived an Black Mask attack on your workspace Saturday and came into said workplace the following Wednesday… you were going to scream.

All the Wayne Enterprises interns on your floor had gathered around your desk, asking to hear about what happened.  You briefly retold the story for the mini-crowd of mostly college students who were definitely slacking off and using your injuries as an excuse to kill twenty minutes.  Maybe three were genuinely concerned.

You sat next to Nadiah from web design, and she had nervously been glancing at you all morning.  You usually ate lunch together and were certainly friends, so that made sense.  Ivan and Maria from public relations also were worried, though you wondered if it stemmed more from the fact you could still miss your deadline at end of the week, which would screw them up.  The work of a videography intern stops for no crime lord attacks, apparently.

(This morning, your boss, after hugging you and expressing how happy she was that you were alive, swore that you could take off whatever time you needed and to not worry about work.  You liked your boss a lot.)

The rest were just giving you pitying looks and nodding their heads to whatever you said.  You weren’t even sure of a few people’s names.  You weren’t paying that much attention and didn’t notice when a few girls at the back of the swarm around you started gasping (mostly likely because some guy from marketing was mansplaining how difficult this must be for you, which was distracting).

You did notice Nadiah go, “Oh my god,” as she looked behind you.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, Peter,” a familiar voice spoke.  “But ______, can I chat with you for a minute?”

You turned around to see Tim Drake-Wayne standing before you.  Last time you’d seen him, he was bloodied and in a burnt Red Robin costume.  Now, he was looking unfairly handsome in a suit with no tie.  Some girls were giggling at him, but he didn’t seem to mind.  You were way too happy to see him.  This was so wrong, wasn’t it?  To like your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss?  Who happens to be a superhero?  But you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

(So, so wrong.  But it feels right.)

“He was not saying anything particularly interesting,” you said, standing up.  “Sure.”

Tim smiled at that remark, eyes sliding to the slightly offended mansplainer, apparently named Peter, and titled his head towards the western door of the floor.

“I was thinking we should get lunch today.  Bruce and I really want to make it up to you for everything that happened Saturday,” he said as you walked.  You heard a few girls jealously gasp and whisper something about how lucky you were to have a “lunch date” with Tim Wayne.

Everything, huh?  Including discovering his secret identity and helping his fellow vigilantes escape from behind tied up?

You walked across the floor together, ignoring the jaw drops of not just interns but full staff members.

“Well, I know it was a long day for the both of us,” you said. “I’m glad we both seem to be healing and in good spirits.”

He smiled as he opened the door to the stairwell for you. “Exactly.”

This stairwell hadn’t been badly damaged to begin with, but, overall, repairs to Wayne Tower happened very quickly after Black Mask’s attack.  It was mostly windows that had been destroyed, along with the other central stairwell, not structural integrity stuff (thankfully).  And apparently, Wayne money could buy you not just quality reconstruction, but speedy reconstruction.

You could see some of the put-on charm vanish from Tim’s manner as you descended down the stairs, the two of you now alone.  He stopped at a landing between your floor and the next, looking you up and down.

“I just wanted to check on you.  Away from a slew of interns.  Is your side healing okay?”

Your fingers automatically reached for the gash bandaged below your blouse.  “It… it still hurts, and it’s going to leave a large scar.  But the nurse said it should be fully healed in about a month.”

Tim frowned.  “I’m sorry.  That’s awful.”

You tried to smile a bit, but it probably looked a little forced by the way Tim’s face turned even more apologetic.

“How are you doing?” you asked, before glancing around the stairwell.  This probably wasn’t secure enough to talk about Tim being Red Robin… you’d make do.  “I know that you had some injuries too, right?”

Tim nodded slowly, and you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t just affirming his injuries.  He was approving your careful questioning about the events of the attack.

“Yeah, but nothing too serious.  I’ve had a few bad accidents that were worse, so, with some rest, I was alright.”

Thing was, he didn’t look alright.  The way he was standing, his body looked tense and heavy.  His gaze even felt tired; there were dark bags below his stunning blue eyes.  You wished that Batman would force his kids to take time off.  More than three days.

You didn’t say anything in response though, because it probably wasn’t your place.  Tim smiled at you.  You found you couldn’t smile back; instead, you just tried to push down the knot of worry in your stomach, worry for this boy you hardly knew anyway.

“Meet me in the café across the street at noon, okay?  It’ll be my treat.  I should get back, see you soon.”

You gave a little wave as you each headed your respective ways, then you stopped and headed back towards him.

“Tim.”

“Hm?  Wh—”

Just as Tim turned back towards you, you enveloped him in a hug.  He was frozen for a second, but then he hugged you back.

“Sorry.  It just seemed like you needed that,” you said into his shoulder.  Tim didn’t say anything, but he hugged back a little tighter.  You didn’t know how long you stood there holding Tim, but a warm feeling didn’t leave your chest long after you had returned to your desk.

✹ ✹

Tim told you to order whatever you wanted, and you had to remind yourself as you looked at the menu that he was not one of your college friends.  He quite literally could afford everything and anything.  Usually, you’d try to choose something on the cheap end if someone offered to buy you food, but Tim Drake was not a broke student.

The café was simple, but nice.  It looked like this was a popular spot for lunch in Old Gotham.  You got a chocolate croissant and avocado toast with salmon—

(You could practically hear what your parents would say if they saw you eating avocado toast, but you ignored your mind’s versions of them.  They couldn’t mock you here.)

—with lemonade.  Tim had a chocolate muffin, BLT, and several cups of coffee.  Well, that probably explained how he was awake and alert, even though he looked exhausted.

You two mostly chatted about nothing important.  You talked about what interning was like, weird stories from around the office.  Tim talked about what it was like being a teenager basically running a multi-billion dollar corporation, funny anecdotes about adults being confused by him.  It was… weirdly nice.  He wasn’t a distant boss a dozen floors below you, he wasn’t a mysterious vigilante you’d only ever seen in darkness until a few days ago.  No, he was a teenage boy who was laughing at your joke about your boss not understanding the sad cat meme on your phone lockscreen despite her being the reason you changed your lockscreen to a sad cat meme.

His laugh made your stomach do embarrassing flips, and his smile filled you with a warm feeling.  This was very, very wrong.  He was still your boss, vaguely.  But you were eating pastries together and laughing, and you found you didn’t care.

As the laughter died down, your eyes met, and something passed between you in the way they did that set your heart racing.  The way Tim’s eyes widened a little at you made you wonder if he felt whatever that was too.  Tim cleared his throat, looking away.

“Bruce wants you to come to dinner Friday,” he said slowly.  His eyes returned to you, and you realized from the weight of his gaze that this was probably the main reason he got lunch with you.  To ask you this.  You should have known you weren’t just going to sit with the knowledge of the whole… (What were the bat heroes called altogether? Batclan?  Batfamily?  That sounded right.) ...the whole batfamily’s secret identities.

“Okay.  Because of—” you started.

(You weren’t even going to finish this sentence, because you couldn’t finish it aloud in a random café—)

“—yeah…yeah,” Tim cut you off.  While you had been talking about funny little life things, the tension and heaviness that had bogged Tim down in the stairway seemed to lift a bit.  But it had returned as soon as he spoke about this dinner with Bruce.

“...are you sure you’re okay after everything?” you asked, “Because it was a lot.  Even for you.”

“I—I’m really fine,” Tim replied, with all the certainty of someone who was definitely not fine.  “...I’m fine.”

You weren’t going to get up and hug him again, but you reached across the table and took Tim’s hand.  You gave it a squeeze and smiled a little at him.

“It’s okay to not be fine.  It was… too much.”

(You were looking at Tim’s face, and you could see a boy being electrocuted on the ground in front of you, just screaming, and you could see a boy under your arm as you descended the stairwell, his blood dripping onto you, and you could see a boy leaning against a wall, eyes closed.  You could see he was a boy.  Before he was a hero, he was a boy.)

“But we made it out.  We’re going to be alright, eventually.  But it’s okay to be not okay, in the right now.”

Tim stared at you, then nodded, squeezing your hand.

“You’re right.  I’m—” Tim paused, inhaling a shaky breath, “I’m not totally fine.  It’s what I’m used to, to just push past things, but it’s never—.  It was bad, really bad.  And I’m not fine because of it.  But I think I will be eventually.  We both will be.”

You exchanged a smile with Tim, then drew your hand back.

“Dinner sounds good.  Is it at…. your house?”

“Wayne Manor,” Tim said with a grin.  “My house, mansion, estate, whichever word you prefer.”

“...there’s not a metro stop near there, is there?” you said cheekily.

“No, but you can ride back with me after work.”

“Fancy.”

“We like to impress,” Tim said.

“I can’t wait.”

✹ ✹

You woke up next morning, shutting off your phone alarm absently as you hopped out of bed.  You brushed your teeth, thinking back to the end of your lunch date.  You’d walked back to Wayne Tower together, and you swapped phone numbers before you each returned to work.  Honestly, it wasn’t even really a date.  It was a “sorry you got injured in an attack on our building and thanks for saving my life also Batman wants to talk to you” lunch.  But you could indulge yourself in the comfort of your own bathroom.  Lunch date was easier to say, anyway.

When you finally grabbed your phone after getting dressed, you almost dropped it when you saw the sheer number of notifications you had.  What the fuck had happened?

TWITTER                6:32 AM Amy Lin, Sarah Twine, elle loves draco malfoy, and 2,643 others have followed you

TWITTER                6:29 AM You have 10K new likes, and 4K new retweets.

MESSAGES                2:32 AM EMILYYYY: YOU ARE PROBABLY ASLEEP BUT YOU NEED TO TELL ME ASAP IF THIS IS LEGIT

MESSAGES                2:32 AM EMILYYYY: OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN THIS???  IS THIS REAL???

MESSAGES                2:31 AM EMILYYYY: bzfd.it/TimWayneGF-summer

You’ve got about twenty more texts from other friends all talking about a Buzzfeed article, a video, and Tim Wayne.

It’s too early for this.

You take your phone with you and open the link from Emily, your college roommate, as you make cereal.

10 Reasons We ALREADY Love Tim Wayne’s New Girlfriend

Oh no.

Tim Wayne, adopted son of Bruce Wayne and Gotham royalty, has a new girlfriend: _____ ______.  While most young women in Gotham are disappointed that one of the city’s most eligible young men is taken (just take a look at #timistaken on Twitter), we can’t help but love the incredibly interesting and talented _____.

1. She’s an intern at Wayne Enterprises.

amelia needs a nap @amelim67 ok I know everyone is upset that #timistaken but hold onto your butts for 1 second bc he’s going out with a wayne enterprises intern… which means… this is the wattpad story we all dreamed of living 12:34 AM  •  7/4/__ 10.2K Retweets    25.7K Likes

Amelia is right—this is basically straight out of a Wattpad story and we’re loving it.  _____ is a (paid!!) videography intern at WE, which impressive because 1) WE internships are incredibly competitive and 2) _____ JUST FINISHED HER FRESHMAN YEAR.  SHE ALREADY HAS ONE OF THE MOST COMPETITIVE INTERNSHIPS IN THE COUNTRY.  BAD.  ASS.

2. She’s incredibly smart.

That’s right, one of the reasons _____ got a WE internship is because she’s a genius.  No, really.  Now heading into her Sophomore year at Gotham U, _____ is a Wayne Merit Scholar, one of 15 students per class who has a full ride to Gotham U based on merit alone.

The Wayne Foundation already has an extensive financial aid program for college-bound Gotham students, but they only have one (yes, 1) purely merit-based program, the Wayne Merit Scholarship.  With only 15 scholars per year, the program is incredibly competitive, but _____ clearly is a standout student.  She was valedictorian at East Gotham High School, and she made the dean’s list this year at Gotham U.

Tim Wayne is known for being a genius himself, and we don’t blame him for being drawn to someone as bright as he is.  Smart is sexy.

3. Her Twitter is HILARIOUS.

_______ @_______ friend from Nevada: omg I heard a metro stop exploded are you ok?? me: yeah lol it was only two face friend from Nevada: ONLY TWO FACE?? me: girl I live in a city with the joker yes ONLY two face 2:34 PM  •  7/3/__ 2 Retweets    14 Likes

You couldn’t take reading any more of your own tweets.  You exited the article and immediately private your Twitter.  Some damage control. The tweets were not hilarious if 432,756 people have really read them, like the top of the article said.

You ate your cereal, trying to calm down process why Buzzfeed and the internet decided you were dating Tim.  After you finished, you opened the article again.  The rest of the reasons Buzzfeed loves you were varying levels of uncomfortable.  6 was the worst.

6. She’s super independent.

From her Twitter, we learned that _____ doesn’t have a great relationship with her parents.

_______ @_______ People talking about their relationships with their parents…  HA wonder what that’s like 11:29 PM  •  10/5/__ 3 Likes       __________ @_______        Replying to @_______ Not that I’m unhappy living completely on my own without support from my folks but uhhhh sometimes I forget how not normal that is 11:31 PM  •  10/5/__ 2 Likes

But with _____’s brains (see #2) and paid internship (see #1), she’s clearly made a way for herself without the help of her parents.

But 10 was probably what started this madness in the first place.

10. Finally, the now viral video of her comforting words to Tim Wayne on a lunch date.

Transcript below:

T: Bruce wants you to come to dinner Friday. _: Okay.  Because of— T: —yeah.  Yeah.

[slight pause]

_: Are you sure you’re okay after everything?  Because it was a lot.  Even for you. T: I—I’m really fine.  I’m fine.

[____ reaches her hand across the table and takes Tim’s hand.]

_: It’s okay to not be fine.  It was too much, but we made it out.  We’re going to be alright eventually.  But it’s okay to be not okay in the right now. T: You’re right.  I’m— [Tim takes a breath] I’m not totally fine.  It’s what I’m used to, to just push past things, but it’s never—.  It was bad, really bad.  And I’m not fine because of it.  But I think I will be eventually.  We both will be.

[The pair share a smile.]

The two teens were both injured in the recent attack on Wayne Tower in Gotham by local crime lord Black Mask.  The moment seems to stem from their shared experience.   Not to mention a dinner invite!  Could Tim Wayne be introducing  _____ to his father Bruce Wayne and family for the first time?

Okay.  Okay.  So, the video was clearly just someone in the café recording you two talking, in what appears to be a quite intimate moment.  And everyone jumped on it—#timistaken apparently.

(You felt a strange hurt watching yourself console Tim.  That was meant to be just for Tim, not for the entire internet to see.)

And now everyone and their mother thought you were dating one of Gotham’s most eligible teens.

Great.

You called Tim.

“Tim, have yo—”

“Yeah, ____, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.  Some random person took the video of us at the café.  I just… You’re probably used to this level of attention.  I’m really not.”

“I know.  As soon as I saw, I called the WE publicity team.  They’re trying to get that Buzzfeed article down.”

“The stuff with my parents, just—.  I mean, I shouldn’t have vented about it so openly on my Twitter, but I feel like there’s journalism ethics stuff to not randomly report that stuff about someone who’s not a public figure.”

“I know.  I’m hoping in a couple hours that they’ll remove that part at least, if not the whole article.  We’ve got a pretty good P.R. team, as you might imagine.”

(The number of playboy bizarre yacht and jet ski accidents Bruce Wayne had got into over the years started to make some more sense as soon as you learned he was also a vigilante.)

“Okay.  That’s good.”

“Let me know if you have any trouble with anything.  Literally anything.  We’ve got security people, P.R. people, people people—whoever is best suited to help if you have an issue.”

You frowned.  “Do you really think I’ll need a security person?”

You heard Tim pause on the other end of the line.  “...probably not.”

“Probably?”

“You never know.  I’m kind of... popular.”  Tim’s voice said “popular” like it was a disease.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you said, feeling a small smile form on your face despite how overall awful this situation had been.

“Oh?  Better pay closer attention.”

(Were you flirting?  Was Tim flirting back?  Was this allowed?  You literally just had a conversation to establish how you were going to take down press about you two dating.  Ugh.)

“I’m sure I will,” you said, before pausing.  “Thank you, Tim.  I’ll call you if anything else comes up.”

“Of course.  Let me know.  Talk to you later.”

✹ ✹

By the time you got to lunch at work, you were about ready to hurl yourself through your computer screen.  Your email was filled with requests from reporters to comment on your “relationship” with Tim Wayne, which you quickly deleted.  Other interns from around the floor kept wandering by asking if you were really dating Tim.

(“No.” “But I th—” “No, we’re not a thing.  I have work to do.”)

Even your boss stopped by to ask how you were doing, and you had to resist the urge to scream.  You needed everybody to leave you alone and stop asking.

Thankfully, when you ate lunch with the usual group of interns you considered your friends, no one brought it up after you said, “I am not dating Tim Drake,” as you sat down.  Nadiah from web design complained about her superiors' inability to reply to emails in a timely manner, George from engagement told a funny story from his weekend involving a puppy loose in the intern housing, and you were able to completely set aside all the uneasiness that came with Buzzfeed and being the reason for a Twitter hashtag.  It was nice to laugh and joke about your bosses and worry about the things you were supposed to be worried about.

George stopped you as you were walking back to the office from the cafeteria.

“Hey, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I just wanted to make sure you’re not too stressed about everything.”

You smiled.  George was one of your favorite interns.  He was just genuinely sweet and also really good at his job.

“I’m pretty stressed, but I think it’s going to be okay.  Tim told me that he’s got Wayne P.R. people trying to get the weird personal information Buzzfeed found about me off the Internet.”  You shrugged.  “Whatever happens, happens.  I’ll be okay.”

George nodded.  “Just let me know if I can help.  My job is basically social media management, so… I know stuff.”

“That you do,” you said with a smile.  “Thanks.  I’ll tell you if I could use your expertise.”

“On the subject of expertise, can I ask you a favor?”

You raised an eyebrow.  “Uh, sure?  I don’t think I’ve got expertise in much.”

“Do you know how to install a graphics card in a computer?”

That you did actually have mild expertise in.  You had become known as “computer girl” around the office earlier in the summer for installing a new power supply in your boss’s computer when her old one broke.  I.T. was too slow for her liking.  Graphics cards were pretty easy comparatively.

(It occurred to you how many epithets you’d acquired around the office.  First, “computer girl.”  Then, “explosion girl.”  Now, “Tim Wayne’s girlfriend girl.”  Oh, wait.  Girlfriend already contains girl.  Ugh, whatever.  Can’t you just be a nameless intern?  Is that too much to ask?)

George explained that he needed help installing a graphics card he just ordered, having never opened up his computer before he was afraid he’d damage it.  You agreed to come over that evening and give him a hand.  He lived a couple floors below you in the intern housing.  You’d been over to his place a few nights with a bunch of interns to watch movies and hang out.  It might be a nice distraction from everything to just… do some work on a friend’s computer.  Not worry about anything else.

Work was uneventful the rest of the day except for a series of amusing texts from Tim just before you headed out.

Tim Drake-Wayne It only took FOREVER but the buzzfeed top 10 reasons article is now a top 5

Tim Drake-Wayne They took out half the stuff, mostly the more sensitive information

Tim Drake-Wayne And they also added at the bottom that my press team reached out and denied any relationship

Tim Drake-Wayne So of course they put that “the evidence suggests otherwise but

Tim Drake-Wayne Not to sound like a whiny celebrity but I hate the paparazzi???

Tim Drake-Wayne ANYWAY please let me know if anyone else bothers you or if I can do anything to help

Tim Drake-Wayne I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow

Tim Drake-Wayne I mean, everybody is

Tim Drake-Wayne Looking forward to it

Tim Drake-Wayne Everyone wants to meet you, esp Dick and Damian

Tim Drake-Wayne And Bruce

Tim Drake-Wayne This is an obnoxious number of texts I’m sorry I’ll stop

You Your texts are very enjoyable, don’t be sorry

You I started laughing to myself and the intern Nadiah who sits next to me was giving me weird looks

You Thanks for all your help with the article I am so grateful

You I’m looking forward to dinner too, but I am slightly terrified

You I think for rather obvious reasons

You But I’ll text you tomorrow once I’m done and I’ll come downstairs to meet you??  Then we can drive to your house

You Your house which happens to be Wayne Manor which is so crazy oh my god??

You But seriously, I’m glad you invited me

You Thank you again, for everything

You tried not to smile too hard at your phone as you walked back to the intern housing.  You made some ramen for dinner quickly, then headed down to George’s apartment, telling yourself “Don’t think about Tim” over and over.

(It didn’t work.  You thought about Tim.)

Working on George’s computer did provide a distraction.  It was a rather tight fit adding the graphics card in his computer tower, so you took your time.

George was chatting pretty mindlessly to you as you worked, mostly about the latest Twitter beef the Wayne Enterprises account got into with Arby’s.

“It was kind of accidental.  I was just trying to be funny and then it got a little out of control.”

“This is why I’m not an engagement intern,” you said as you clicked in the graphics card.  “I think I’d accidentally start Twitter beef with everybody.  Video is less interpersonal, mostly.”

George began to talk about how you’d probably be fine at engagement, or something, but you tuned him out because there was a weird device attached to his power supply.  It looked like a like container.  You’d never seen anything like that in a computer before.  It was also taking up a lot of space right near where you had to plug in the card to the motherboard.

“Hey, George,” you started, looking closer at the little canister inside his computer.  “What’s this bit us—”

You didn’t finish.  Suddenly, one of George’s hands pressed against your mouth and the other pinned your arms to your chest, and the canister started letting something out into the air.

You struggled against George’s grasp, but he was basically sitting on top of you, and he was much larger than you were.  You tried to hold your breath as long as you could, but eventually you inhaled whatever was now in the air.  You immediately felt sleepy.

As everything started to fade away, you heard George whisper.

“I am sorry about this, _____, but the boss can’t be mocked.”

You closed your eyes and thought of what a shame it would be to miss dinner tomorrow as everything went black.

(UPDATE: PART THREE HERE!!  AND PART FOUR HERE!!!) / (Hey!  I wrote a part 2!  I am also going to write a part three, obviously.  I won’t leave you hanging with this ending. Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!  Also, let me know if you’d liked to be tagged in the next installment. c:)

[heavenbarnes]

Sexting peter? pls

oh my god, sexting or like and kind of phone sex requests are my favorite, thank you x (i also apologize cause i got carried away)

12am on a now Saturday morning and you can’t sleep for love nor money. You tossed and turned on the mattress, you’d been in this limbo for hours and you were about to go crazy.

Your phone vibrated on your bedside table and you lifted it to read.

Peter has text you a meme, with the caption “made me think of you.”

You laughed before typing your response.

“You’re awake?”

“Yeah can’t sleep :(”

“So you’re just thinking of me?”

You loved winding him up, he was 20 years old but still got bashful like a child.

“What? No! What?”

“I’m kidding! Stop making it so easy for me to pick on you!”

“Can’t sleep either?”

“No, I’ve been tossing and turning for hours”

“So now you’re just texting me?”

“Yeah, I am”

“I’m honored to be your partner in sleeplessness”

“Naughty ;)”

“YOU KNOW THAT ISN’T WHAT I MEANT”

Once again, so easy to wind up. You chuckled to yourself and decided that if the neither of you could sleep, you could at least have fun.

“Truth or dare, Peter”

“Are you joking?”

“Truth. Or. Dare.”

“Dare”

“I dare you to holler “big boners” right now”

You didn’t think he’d do it, it was just a stupid idea. But also, you shouldn’t underestimate the lengths Peter would go to for a joke.

As you lay in bed, you suddenly heard the rumble of “BIG BONERS” come from the other end of your floor. You clapped your hand over your mouth, trying to hard to stifle the laughs.

“What the fuck?” You heard Bucky’s sleepy voice grumble. He was probably regretting being the only other person on the floor with you and Peter.

“Holy shit, you’re incredible”

“I’m also never going to be allowed to stay here ever again”

“Yes, Bucky is going to throw you out a window tomorrow”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“Which Avenger would you sleep with given the chance?”

“Easy, Bruce”

“What the fuck?”

“Yah, a whole man”

“Each to their own”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“Who would you choose?”

“Lazy! You”

“Really? Not even sexy ol’ Natasha or our Scarlet Witch?”

“Natasha scares me and Wanda fucks aliens, aside from that even, I stand by my choice”

You found yourself blushing a little bit. You always thought he had a crush on you but you were kind of, flattered?

“Very kind of you

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“You’re going to have to pick dare at least once to make this even”

“I know, truth”

“Song that awakens your inner stripper?”

“Buttons by the Pussycat dolls or rockstar by Post Malone”

“Great choices!”

“You?”

“O come all ye faithful”

You couldn’t help the loud snort you let out at his response. You genuinely found yourself chuckling in your room. 

“Absolute banger, don’t blame you. Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“Fav category on PornHub?”

It was obvious from the start that these would have a sexual undertone. It’s truth or dare in the middle of the night.

“What color would you call your hair?”

“PETER YOU DEVIL!”

He was starting to come out of his shell. You didn’t know if it was cause you couldn’t see each other or it was so late, but he was surprising you.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare”

He was taking a moment to reply, you just put that down to him thinking of his best dare.

“You’ve got a full length mirror, right?”

You heart kind of stopped. What did he have in mind? Suddenly your phone buzzed and it wasn’t a normal text, it was a link.

You opened it and were greeted by the soundbite for rockstar by Post Malone. Peter Parker is a dirty boy.

“In front of the mirror, video please

You thought about it, did you really do this? What was the worst that could happen? Actually, maybe better not to think about that and just do.

You got out of bed, looking down at the small t-shirt and panties you were wearing. You walked over to the mirror and turned on the lamp behind it.

You began to play the song, bringing up your camera to film. You swirled your hips to the beat, turning around and bending over to shake your ass right for the camera. You turned back around, dropping down into a squat.

You decided to up your game. “Cocaine on the table, liquor pouring, don’t give a damn”  you brought your hand around and trailed it up your thigh.

“Now she acting out of pocket tryna grab up on my pants” you came up out of your squat and patted your little kitty as you whined your hips, really feeling this whole song and nothing but the song.

You couldn’t think too hard on the video, you literally just pressed send and dived straight back into bed. Your heart was racing and you couldn’t believe what you’d done.

“Holy shit, you’re a real treat”

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare”

“Send me the naughtiest photo you have on your phone”

“Oh shit, that’s a good one, one sec”

You lay in anticipation. What was it going to be? You were getting a bit more into this than you thought when you first started this game. You heart jumped when your phone buzzed.

You opened the picture and it took a little moment before you realized what it was. It Peter, obviously. The top part of his spider suit was peeled down, you could see his beautifully toned chest.

A bit further down, you could see his firm thighs and pressed against his thigh was impressive, to say the least. It was Peter with a hard on in his spider suit. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a rush of heat right between your legs.

“Sorry, it isn’t that naughty, I don’t really take them cause I don’t have anyone to send them to :(”

“So who were you sending this one too?”

“Jealous are you? Nobody, I just took to photo for self appreciation”

“I appreciate it too, new lockscreen”

“Do it, not even joking, do it”

And you did it, what did you have to lose? Peter’s erection strained behind his spider suit was your lockscreen and now you’d have to hold you phone just a bit tighter around others.

“Truth or dare”

“Dare”

“Lazy, but you do the same”

“You really want to see my whole tits?”

“Does the Pope wear a funny hat?”

“Okay, okay, one sec!”

You scrolled through your private folder, finding the best one. It was your shirt bunched up to your collarbone and your boobs pressed together. It looked good, was a pretty artsy shot.

You send it straight away and held your breath. You were really out here sending nudes to your fellow Avenger. How did your night turn out this way?

“Why are you so fucking beautiful?”

“Idk, genetics?”

“Who was that one for?”

“Jealous, are we?”

“Yes, who was that for?”

You were becoming more and more turned on with every word or picture that Peter sent you. You didn’t know what it was, but he was really getting to you.

“Nobody tbh, I just take photos when I think I look kind of nice”

“Well you now have someone you can send them too, I’ll alway be appreciative”

“Truth or dare”

“Truth?”

“Last time you got yourself off and what was on your mind?”

“This morning, after the gym. You, taking Steve Rogers down with a few swift hits.”

You were taken back to that scene this morning. You and Steve were sparring on the mat and you’d seen Peter come to go weights, but hadn’t really paid much attention. Same obviously couldn’t be said for him.

“So you have a thing for Steve being degraded? Secret’s safe with me”

“Yes, I do. I also have a thing for you in tiny shorts straddling him with his hands pinned above his head”

“You want to watch me get down on Steve?”

“Or you can get down on me, I’m really not picky. Truth or dare?”

“Dare”

“Come down to my room”

“On my way”

[new53]

password?

When he woke up, Dick immediately knew something was wrong. He was laying on his stomach, his head turned to the side and so he had a great view of the grey pillow next to his face, except his own bedsheets weren’t grey. He twisted and sat up.

The comforter bunched together near his knees was silver-and-blue striped and the walls were an eggshell white. The curtains were pulled aside and letting some light seep into the otherwise dark room, so he knew it was morning. The room was mostly neat, with a pair of pants thrown on the ground near the laundry basket and a towel on the floor near the bed.

There was a picture on the bedside table, and Dick grabbed one, bringing it close to his face so he could see through the dim light.

The picture was of a man with a little girl on his shoulder The man had Dick’s own face, but his hair was long, pulled back in a loose bun, and Dick’s own hair hadn’t been that long for years. The little girl had dark skin and darker hair, and the photo had caught her mid-laugh.

Dick had never seen her before in his life.

He put the picture down and picked up the phone laying next to it. The background picture on the phone was the same girl, and the phone unlocked with Dick’s fingerprint.

He frowned.

He scrolled through the recent calls, glad to see names he recognized--Babs, Wally, Gordon. No Bruce, though, or any of his siblings.

The most recent text was from Kori. Dick opened the message thread and read it.

ok have fun--see u at thanksgiving

He scrolled up a little and found the beginning of the conversation.

Kori: i have service for a little while!

Dick (?): okay great!

Dick (?): hows everything?

Kori: the negotiations are going pretty well...there’s always more to do but everything’s winding down

Dick (?): when will you be able to come home? Mar’i misses you!

Dick (?): okay, i miss you too

Dick (?): also Simon keeps knocking down our door….bring Jess back!!!

Kori: lol

Kori: i miss you too

Kori: have you been giving mar’i a kiss from me every day?

Dick (?): ofc!!! I’m a GOOD father

Kori: i know you are.

Kori: jess says if we leave in the next few weeks, we’ll be back on earth in november

Dick (?): omg they’ll all flip out if you make it back for thanksgiving

Kori: don’t tell them!! I want it to be a surprise

Dick (?):  i promise i won’t!

Dick (?): i might have to tell simon though

Dick (?): for my own peace of mind

Kori: don’t unless you absolutely have to

Dick (?): I won’t. Hey, i gtg--babs is calling & it’s mar’i’s bedtime. Ttyl

Kori: ok, have fun--see u at thanksgiving

Dick closed out of the thread. The next text was from Wally, and below that was Babs and then Gordon, and then Simon. Dick clicked on Simon’s contact.

Why would he be texting Simon Baz?

Dick was fairly sure it wasn’t amnesia, especially because the date lined up with what he remembered it being. He got up from the bed and pulled on jeans and a black t-shirt, both of which fit him perfectly.

He inspected his closet, and found a fake wall inside. It only took a moment to figure out how to open the wall, and inside he found a sleek grey suit with bright green detailing. It was similar to his Nightwing outfit and yet clearly wasn’t a version of Nightwing. Dick touched the mask mounted on the wall behind it and spotted his escrima sticks on the floor next to the boots.

He withdrew from the closet and left the bedroom.

He was in an apartment with two other rooms, with the doors closed. The bathroom door was open, and the living room was simply furnished and the kitchen yielded nothing. Dick retreated back to the rooms and opened the room that must be the master bedroom, as quiet as he could.

There was a double bed and a compter set, in this room. The computer set was large and familiar, in an Oracle-y way, and there was a wheelchair parked next to the bed, and someone sleeping, the covers drawn over them. Dick took a few steps forward, just to double check, and he saw red hair poking out of the top of the covers, glasses on the bedside table.

Babs, then, he assumed, seeing girl clothes in the open closet. He left the room--closing the door behind him--and crossed the hall, pushing open the last door.

The room was darker than the others, since the curtains were thicker. Dick lifted the phone still in his hand and shined the light into the room.

There was a dresser, and a toybox on the side of the room, with toys scattered on the floor, and a bed along the side of the wall. The light from the phone revealed a tiny shape on the bed, the blankets near the ankles.

Dick crept closer, careful not to step on the toys. It was the little girl from the pictures, the little girl who, when he squinted, looked a little like him and a little like Kori.

I’m a good father, the other him had said, in reference to her.

In this universe--for it must be an alternate universe--he was a father, and this little girl was his daughter.

Dick swallowed and left her room, guilt for stealing that little girl’s father away swirling in his chest.

He went to the window in the living room and peered outside; he was definitely in Gotham and Dick remembered apartment shopping in this building in the past. He was glad to know where he was, and he glanced at the time.

Finding his way back to his own universe seemed prudent, and since it was a Sunday and Dick was sure he didn’t have work, he left, taking the keys next to the door with him.

When he was outside, he texted Babs, in case she woke up.

Went on a little walk...didn’t wanna bother you. Be back later.

He hoped this universe’s Babs was like his own and liked to sleep as late as she could so that he’d have more time to figure out a solution, or at least find out how he got into this universe in the first place.

He knew where to look for answers, too, which was convenient.

He drove there, bracing himself for any possibility. Anything in this universe could be different. Already, this universe’s Dick was a father and a different superhero than Nightwing. Who knew what else would be off?

Dick parked on the road beside the long gate up to Wayne Manor. He was glad to see it was intact and not burned down or anything.

He pulled out his phone as he walked and googled Martha Wayne. She was still dead and had been dead for a while, and then Dick did a quick google of Batman to make sure he was around.

He was, though Dick couldn’t find any pictures. He repocketed the phone and walked along the outside perimeter of the gate. In his universe, there was a cave-entrance in an old well behind the gardens. Dick scaled the fence when he neared the spot, and easily found the old well. In his universe, it was hidden by a low hedge, but in this universe, it was behind a dog-shaped topiary. Dick grinned at the sight and swung his legs over the side of the well, lowering the rope all the way down. He could see the bottom from where he was, so he felt confident in sliding down the rope. He landed on the boards that were holding up the bottom. In his universe, the bottom would be kicked out and then you free-fell until you either grappled away or caught the rope hanging on the ceiling. In this universe, there was a discoloration on the rounded wall and Dick kicked at that instead. It was a small door, about half Dick’s height but wide enough that Clark could get through and it opened inward. He sat down, putting his feet through the door and shuffling forward using his hands to walk. He closed the little door behind him and the tunnel fell into darkness. Dick reached for his phone and shined the flashlight ahead. The path seemed to slope downward, stretching farther than he could see.

There wasn’t anything to do but go forward, so he did, tucking his chin under his phone. He got a few feet ahead and then his phone buzzed wildly, and Dick startled, falling on his butt and dropping the phone into the ground beside him. Dick scooped up the phone and grabbed it, turning the screen to face him.

Wally was calling him. Dick debated not answering, but he figured if he knew Wally it must’ve been through heroing, and maybe Wally could help him out, if the Batman thing fell through. Dick answered, deciding to play it neutral until he figured out what Wally knew.

“Hey,” Dick said.

“Hey!” Wally said, chirping cheerfully. “Whatcha doin?”

“Just taking a walk,” Dick said, looking around the damp cave.

“Sounds nice,” Wally said. “Hey, listen, I’m really sorry but I’m gonna have to cancel dinner tonight. Apparently it’s an important anniversary for Iris and we’re having a family thing or whatever. I can’t get out of it and I suggested that you come along since you’re basically family at this point but for whatever reason Barry thought you’d bring the whole of the GL Corps with you and you know how he gets.”

“Yeah,” Dick said. “Sounds fun, man. Don’t worry about dinner. You can make it up to me some other time.”

“Thanks, babe,” Wally said, sounding relieved. Babe? “Have fun on your walk, I gotta go. Love you!”

“Love you too,” Dick said automatically and Wally hung up. Dick looked at the lockscreen. Hm.

Dick put the phone back under his chin and got back on his hands, inching forward. The ground was curved into a steep decline and after about ten minutes, the path ended and Dick tried to put his foot down and it fell into the air, the ground gone. Dick caught himself and the phone, scooting back. He sat down, shining the light at the hole in front of him. There was nowhere to go but down, and there was nothing he could find to see how deep the drop was nor was there anything to slow down his fall.

Well. Dick always thought it was better to just jump right into things.

He pocketed the phone and dropped from the side, free-falling and calculating. The above-cave entrance was lower than the one in his universe, and assuming the ground was around the same distance--Dick tucked into a flip, rolling onto the floor and bracing his back against the landing.

He sat up and heard running water. He stood, rubbing his back. He got back out the phone and shined it all around, the light cutting through the darkness. He was in a pit about ten feet deeper than the regular cave floor, with sand on the floor and an underground river thirty feet to his right. Dick went to the pit walls and scaled one easily. The cave’s lights were motion-detected, and once he was on the main floor they turned on, and he turned off the phone’s light and pocketed it.

This Batcave looked mostly the same as his own, although as Dick walked to the computer he noted a few changes. The chair behind the computer, for one, was different, and the training mats on the side were much bigger than the ones at home. Dick spotted the tell-tale signs of heat-vision damage along the walls and there were colored towels stacked in a cabinet next to the training mats. The dinosaur was painted all over in purple graffiti, and the giant playing card had a hole burned through the face of the Joker. Jason’s display case looked different. Dick went over to it, curious about this change above the others. The costume inside looked like a mini version of the Batman suit, although it was sleek and mostly black, with white highlights. There was a domino mask instead of a cowl, and the plaque at the bottom read: BELOVED SON AND BROTHER.

Dick thought that that seemed much better than “a good soldier”. He touched the case and wondered what happened to this universe’s Jason, assuming that even was Jason.

The smattering of vehicles near the cave’s entrance were obviously different but Dick didn’t go inspect them, choosing instead to go to the display cases along the wall by the changing area. The first one was obviously Batman, even though all the yellow was replaced by dark grey. Made for a darker Batman, Dick thought. The second costume was nearly identical to Clark’s, except it was slimmer and fitted for a woman. He wondered what Kryptonian woman would have her super suit in the Batcave. Kara, maybe?

The next costume was a deep purple and black one that Dick recognized. Sure, Spoiler looked a little different, but Dick knew her when he saw her. He was glad to see her. The next display case was empty. The one next to that one was a sleek black costume with a hooded jacket overtop, and a red mask that pulled over the face and had stitching like Cass’s Batgirl mask across it. The main costume had a deep red outline of a bat, and it was fit for a slimmer person, probably a girl. Dick squinted at it. It looked like Red Hood, to be honest, but it also looked like Cass. It made him vaguely uncomfortable so he moved on to the next one. It was a Supergirl outfit. Dick raised his eyebrow and looked back at the other Kryptonian suit. Both had the crest of the House of El on the front, but the second one had a skirt and was very clearly Supergirl. Dick was sure he’d seen his own Kara wear a suit just like that one before.

The next one down was again Kryptonian. The body of it was like Clark’s, except there was no cape, just a leather jacket. Instead of red boots, there were combat boots that matched the jacket. Dick smiled. It reminded him of Kon’s old suit, and he wondered again why there were Kryptonian suits in the cave. He moved on to the next suit, which was like the one he’d seen in Jason’s display case, although it had a cowl that covered up the entire face--like Cass’s Batgirl suit. There were only two costumes left, and Dick nearly felt tears well up when he saw them.

They were, very clearly, Nightwing and Flamebird, and they were both very clearly around Damian-sized. Dick was sad to think that none of these suits matched the one in the other him’s closet--clearly Dick didn’t belong here. But Nightwing still did, and somehow that made Dick feel a lot better. He reached out for Nightwing’s suit. It had a cape and full face mask, which was a little ridiculous, but it was still clearly Nightwing. Dick smiled at it.

He found a pair of latex gloves with the medical stuff and went to the computer, powering it up. It asked for a password and Dick paused. He know his own Bruce’s password, of course, which was PENNYWORTH, with each letter changed to whichever one reverse alphabetized it--KVMMBDLIFS--then each letter changed to the corresponding number--11-22-13-13-2-4-12-9-6-19, and then seven added to each number. 18-29-20-20-9-11-19-16-13-26. The number added to make the final password changed every time Bruce adopted another kid, and over the holidays it was the same thing but MARTHA instead, and sometimes to jazz things up it was MARY or CATHERINE or JANET or CRYSTAL or SHIVA or TALIA or ELAINE instead of that. Dick had all of those memorized and could run a new one in a matter of minutes, but he didn’t know what this Bruce’s password would be. He tried the MARTHA and the PENNYWORTH variation, then the TALIA one. None worked and Dick knew that he wouldn’t be able to get into the computer until he either figured out more about this Bruce or asked someone. He tried WAYNE and THOMAS, which also didn’t work. Dick huffed and considered fingerprinting, then dismissed it because this was Bruce he was working with.

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. He remembered the Kryptonian suits and leaned forward, trying KRYPTON, KAL-El, JOR-EL, KARA, ZOR-EL, KRYPTO, and everything else he could think of. He tried CRYSTAL because he remembered seeing Spoiler, then he tried JASON because that had been the password while Jason had died. Nothing worked and Dick had overrode the lock-out system but he thought an alarm would sound if he did it wrong anymore. Stupid paranoid Bruce.

Somewhere above him, Dick heard the telltale sign of the clock opening. He jumped to his feet and grabbed a grapple from where it was laying next to the keyboard, grappling up to a ledge near the top of the wall. He laid on his stomach and hoped the area would be shadowy enough that nobody would see.

Two people slid down the clock pole, one after the other. Dick recognized them with a jolt.

“He’s not even down here,” Damian complained, jumping off the pole and crossing his arms.

“He’s probably at work even though it’s Sunday, the asshole,” Duke said.

“He’s the worst,” Damian said, and Duke nodded.

“We’ll have to surprise him at work,” Duke said. “Call up Lois.”

“You call up Lois!” Damian returned. “She probably already knows where he is, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Duke said. “He’s probably moping somewhere.”

“He’s always moping somewhere when Lois is gone,” Damian scoffed. “They make me sick.”

“They’re married, weirdo,” Duke said. “Jeez. Come on, let’s go back up.”

Duke turned and Damian leapt onto his back, hanging on like a monkey. Duke screeched and tried to hold him up, but Damian climbed up higher and swung his legs around his shoulders, holding on to Duke’s head. Damian was laughing like a maniac and Duke spinned around, Damian’s laughter turning to joyful shrieks and Dick heard Duke’s own laughter underneath.

He smiled at the pair of them, wished he could leap down and swing Damian over his shoulder or give Duke a noogie or something.

Instead, three people came pattering down the stairs. Dick recognized Steph and Kara immediately, but the third person...he seemed familiar but a little off, somehow.

Damian brought the spinning to a stop and pointed at the trio.

“Duke! Invaders!”

“What kind of invaders?” Duke asked.

“Sisters!” Damian cried, and Duke charged at them. All three sidestepped.

“I take offense at the ‘sisters’ comment,” the other guy said.

“Sorry,” Damian said, and he sounded genuine. “Sisters and Kon.”

Kon? That person didn’t look like Kon, but Dick supposed that if the cloning process had been different, somehow….

“Thank you,” Kon said.

“Sure,” Damian said, and he made to climb down Duke’s back. Kara was there in an instant, basically picking him up and setting him down. She pat his head and he hissed at her, then he pointed at Steph.

“How dare you come down here without the love of my life?” Damian said accusingly. “Where is she?”

“Olive got to her first,” Steph said, her voice sing-songy, and Damian cried out in outrage and charged up the stairs. Kara high-fived Steph.

“Anyone get in contact with Cass?” Duke asked.

“Last I heard, she was in Korea,” Steph said. “Something about Slade or Shiva or someone.”

“Awesome,” Duke said, his tone saying the opposite.

“Don’t worry,” Kara said. “Today will still be special.”

“I know,” Duke said. “But it’d be cool if she could be there.”

“Yeah, well,” Kon said. “You know.” They all nodded and Dick was reminded of how his family talked about Jason in his universe. Was Cass their Jason? Was Cass Red Hood? It would explain the costume Dick’d seen, and actually--if Steph was Spoiler, Kara was Supergirl, Kon was Superboy, Duke was that other one, Damian was Nightwing or Flamebird, and the other person--Olive?--was the other one, that fit. And the last one--Lois and Bruce were married. If Lois was Kryptonian--Dick squinted back down at Kon, and yes, he looked like Lois’s twin brother but fifteen years younger. Explained why he looked different than Dick’s universe’s Kon. Dick wondered where Tim was, wondered if the display case he’d assumed to be Jason’s was actually Cass’s. No, no, it had said “son”, hadn’t it?

Regardless, the idea of Cass as Red Hood twisted inside Dick. His Cass would rather die than kill, and barely even got along with his Jason. What could’ve happened to her that would make her into Red Hood?

From upstairs, Dick heard Damian yell, “Baba’s anniversary surprise isn’t going to surprise itself!” and the older siblings looked at each other and went up above, ribbing each other and laughing, the tone shifting considerably.

Dick wondered if there was something he could do to get Cass to show up to this thing, because he knew how much Bruce appreciated it when Jason went to family functions, but it wasn’t Dick’s place to interfere and moreover, Cass was in Asia.

When he was sure he was alone, Dick flipped back down from his ledge and went back to the computer. Knowing what he knew now, he tried ELAINE, LARA, ELIZA, ALLURA, and ELLA. Then he typed in SIBYL, remembering that they’d mentioned an Olive and the only Olive in Dick’s universe that was around Damian-sized was the daughter of Calamity. None of the passwords worked. Dick contemplated going upstairs and trying to look around a little, but they were all up there and who knew how different the manor was in this universe. He tried SHIVA idly, not really thinking it would work, then he tried the names of all the dads he could think of. Dick was forced to conclude that he’d have to go upstairs to get anywhere. He crept to the stairs and started up, but then the door from above opened.

Dick froze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m doing it,” the guy in the doorway said. His voice was vaguely familiar but Dick couldn’t see his face, until the guy took a few steps down and saw Dick, who was just standing there, useless.

The guy--Klarion the witch boy (what)--reacted before Dick could, in that he pointed his hands at him and then everything went black.

----

Dick woke up.

The first thing he noted was that Klarion, Steph, Kara, and Kon were gathered around him, arms crossed. The second thing he noted was that everyone was in costume. The third thing he noticed was that he was tied up.

He groaned.

“I hope I didn’t ruin your surprise for your dad,” he said, and everyone exchanged a look.

“What are you talking about?” Spoiler asked.

“I thought about asking you guys for help to get into the computer but I didn’t wanna take away from your dad’s anniversary present,” Dick said, aware that he wasn’t really explaining anything.

“Shut up, Gordon,” Superboy said.

“How long have you known our secret identities?” Spoiler demanded.

“Dick Gordon doesn’t know your identities,” Dick said. He felt like the last little question about this universe’s Dick was answered, the why wasn’t he a Wayne? Well, he still didn’t know why he wasn’t a Wayne, but at least he knew this Dick had grown up with a good father. “I mean, he might, I certainly don’t know, but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m from an alternate universe, and in my universe I’m Nightwing, and the first Robin, and Bruce Wayne’s oldest son.”

“Who the hell is Robin?” Superboy asked.

“It came from me!” Dick said. “My mom used to call me that.”

“Okay, well, why should we believe you?” Supergirl asked.

“Could Klarion, like, magic test me, or something?”

“I could try,” Klarion sniffed, and he sent a little stream of black sparkles at Dick, who ignored them.

“Please, I’m just trying to get back to my own universe, and I really don’t wanna disturb your anniversary thing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Spoiler said. “None of your concern.”

Dick frowned--in his universe that would absolutely be his concern--but he didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, his energy signature’s way off,” Klarion said. “I’m pretty sure Z could do something about it, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“It’s fine,” Spoiler said. “We can call up the JLD and see if they can help.”

“Sure,” Dick said. “Anything.”

Superboy frowned at him and Supergirl and Spoiler started up a silent conversation. Klarion crossed his arms. Teekl meowed. A swirly light appeared behind them and Dick started.

“What?” Superboy asked.

“Turn around,” Dick said, and Superboy glared but Spoiler and Supergirl turned, just as voices started coming from the swirl.

“Are you sure this is the right one?”

“Absolutely. I matched your energy signatures. This should do it.”

The first voice was one Dick recognized--his own. The second voice Dick also recognized--Zatanna, maybe.

“Untie me,” Dick hissed, and Supergirl slashed the ropes with her heat vision. Dick stood and went to the swirl. He could vaguely see shapes on the other side, as if looking through tinted glass.

“Zatanna?” he called.

“Dick?” she responded. “Dick Grayson?”

“How do we know it’s the right alternate universe?” Spoiler asked, standing behind Dick. “I mean, what if it’s a third universe, and it’s all screwy?”

“I’m pretty sure it was an even exchange,” Zatanna said. “Go on, Gordon, step through.”

The other Dick came through the portal, and Dick sized him up. His hair was long, like Dick’d seen in the pictures. It was pulled back in a man bun. He was wearing a Metropolis Knights shirt that Dick recognized because there was a spot of discoloration along the bottom of the shirt from when Dick’d stained it.

The two Dicks looked at each other.

Dick Grayson took the phone out of his pocket and handed it over.

“This is yours,” he said.

Dick Gordon looked at it and smiled, handing Dick Grayson his own phone back. He recognized the lockscreen, and the little crack in the corner of the phone.

“Time to go back to reality,” Grayson said. “Did you have fun in my universe?”

“Not really,” Gordon said. “I don’t love how your dad operates.”

Grayson laughed, and Zatanna said, “Dick! I can only hold it open for a little longer.”

“I’m coming,” Grayson said. “Say hi to your kid for me, yeah? I didn’t talk to her, but….”

“I will,” Gordon said, smiling. Grayson moved closer to the swirl, then turned back to the three superheroes and Klarion, still standing there awkwardly.

“Hey,” Grayson said. “What was your password, underneath the code? I couldn’t figure it out.”

Spoiler looked at her siblings, then she said, “It changes, obviously, but, today it’s Pancake. The name of my dog.”

Grayson nodded and grinned, waving one more time and stepping through the swirl, and into his own Batcave. 

[super-cerulean]

Mosaic

(No actual mosaics involved in the making of this...)

This ask is amazing and my heart grew two sizes writing this. I went on a bit of a break, so that’s why this took so long, but thank you so much for sending me this!!!

Warnings: Language and fluff

Jason was always your favorite muse. You had so many sketches, paintings and pictures of him that it almost seemed like you were obsessed. Maybe you were a little bit. Painting him was just one of the ways you coped with your feelings for him, so of course you had a lot of them. Some, you made from memory and some you recreated from pictures. It was hard to catch him on camera though because his best moments were when he didn’t think about being watched. When he relaxed and smiled or was lost in his own thoughts he had this ethereal beauty that you couldn’t help but paint. 

Jason was always confused when you told him you painted him because he was beautiful. He viewed of himself as rugged and intimidating and thought that didn’t leave room for beauty. Your portfolio full of paintings of him begged to differ. 

The idea for the painting came when you were going through your closet one morning. You had a bunch of your clothes and accessories thrown out on you and Jason’s shared bed and you were sorting through what you wanted to get rid of. Jason, who had been out the entire night before on business, came into the room about an hour into the process. 

“Oh hey, did you want to sleep? I can move all this out into the living room and finish up there.” 

“Nah, I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll hang out in here with you. I don’t feel like sleeping right now anyway,” he explained. You gave him a look as he gathered some of his own clothes to wear after his shower. Jason felt your gaze and paused, turning to attempt to calm your worry. “It’s fine. I promise I’ll get some sleep later.” Though it was reluctant, you nodded and watched him head into the bathroom. His sleep schedule was something he rarely managed on his own so you were usually the one telling him to take his ass to sleep. He was usually stubborn about it, but you could tell the extra rest helped him out a lot. 

After you heard the water from the shower stop and Jason returned to your bedroom, he flung himself onto the bed and settled among your piles of clothes. You could tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the way they fluttered halfway closed that he was sleep deprived. 

“Jason, you look exhausted,” you said, throwing another shirt into the donate pile. He watched you with tired eyes, still keen on staying awake despite how much he really should be sleeping.

“I know, I’ll sleep soon. I just want to hang out with you for a while,” he responded. “You help me fall asleep after all this Red Hood shit.” 

“I hope you’re not comparing me to something that puts you to sleep,” you teased, giving him a look. “You make it sound like I'm boring.” Jason laughed, rubbing at his eyes. 

“No, not boring. You’re like a warm bath or something that’s relaxing,” he smiled. “Speaking of warm baths, can we take one tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, whenever you wake up from your hibernation we can take one. I just got a cool bath bomb the other day.” 

“Yesss,” he cheered, rolling over onto his back. He went quiet for a while as you folded your clothes and you hoped he probably fell asleep. Of course, he never let your worrisome heart rest that quickly. 

“When did you get this?” You glanced over at his question and noticed him holding up a wide flower crown with pink and red roses adorned with plastic leaves. 

“I forgot I had that. I think it was for a costume one time and I never wore it again.” 

“You should, it’s cute,” he mumbled, turning it over in his hands. You smiled, pausing folding momentarily to check your buzzing phone. 

“I’ll have to find an outfit that goes with it,” you replied. Jason placed the bright crown on his head absently, returning his attention to the pile of accessories he had been looking through. That was when he idea for your painting was born. The moment he put the flower crown on, you could see it: warm colors and sunrises in his eyes. You were eternally thankful that you’d picked up your phone at the right moment because you quickly snapped a picture as secretively as you could. Jason, probably too exhausted to notice, hummed to himself as he sorted through your things. If only he knew how beautiful he could be without even trying.

The painting took months to finish. You got a bit ambitious when you started it so you made it way larger than you normally did. You didn’t want Jason to know about it, so one day while he was out you bought a huge canvas, gathered all of your paints and brushes, and brought them over to Wayne manor. There were plenty of unused rooms there and you knew nobody would mind if you stashed your painting there. 

There were only a few times a week where you could actually work on it, so the process went by slower than you would have wanted. It was kind of nice hanging around the manor though. Bruce came by occasionally while you were painting to see how it was coming along, silently admiring your work. Duke and Damian came by more often, keeping you company while you painted. In a way it was kind of a way for you to bond more with Jason’s family. They all loved the painting even when it was in it’s rough stages and were all interested in hearing about Jason’s reaction after it was done. Dick had even asked you to record the whole thing so that he could watch it later (A request that you politely declined). When you felt like giving up on the whole thing because you were frustrated, they were what helped you keep your resolve, so you were very grateful to them.

When the painting was finally finished, even you were in awe. It was a gorgeous oil painting of Jason, his eyes casted downwards and covered by long lashes. The flower crown rested on the top of his head just as you had photographed it and you used mixtures of warm colors and accents of purple to make it resemble a sunrise. Everyone was absolutely transfixed by your work and you just couldn't wait to share it with the man who inspired it all. You just had to wait for the right time to sneak it into the apartment.

Jason was rarely out during the day and you really weren't keen on moving it in at night, so you had to wait until the opportunity arose. Thankfully, once Bruce found out why you were waiting so long to take the painting home, he found a way to distract Jason and allow you to sneak it in.

Duke and Damian were the ones to help you take it out of the manor and into the apartment. It was big enough to cause you problems carrying it up the stairs on your own so they helped you carry it into the building. They were both dropping subtle hints that they wanted you to paint them next and you couldn't help but be amused by it. Once it was finally in your apartment, you set it up in your bedroom where you could lead Jason to it. Then, you called Bruce to let him know that everything was et up and he could send Jason home again.

When Jason finally made it home, you were pacing back and forth to keep from driving yourself crazy. When the door opened, you froze in your tracks, watching him walk in with wide eyes.

"Hey," he said, locking the door behind him as he shrugged off his jacket. He noticed your surprised expression and paused. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I have a surprise for you, though."

"A good surprise or a bad one?" He asked as he came closer to you, his eyes watching you cautiously. You reached out for his hands when he was close enough, taking them and leading him towards your bedroom. 

"I'm guessing it’s a good one," he chuckled and you winked over your shoulder. Once you were to the door, you paused holding it closed behind you so he couldn’t see inside.

"Are you ready?" Jason nodded, smiling, and you pushed the door open. You stepped into the room and to the side where you could watch his reaction as he came in. His eyes caught on the painting immediately and he froze. You weren't sure what kind of reaction Jason would have to the picture, but his silence was driving you crazy. Even though everyone had told you the painting was beautiful, you honestly weren't sure if he'd like it or not and it was impossible to tell.

"Wha...when did you do this?" He said quietly, stepping closer to the picture. You could see his eyes gliding across the picture as he took a closer look at it, his hands ghosting along the edges.

"I finished it a few days ago, but i’ve been working on it for months. I kept it at the manor to keep it a surprise...Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” he asked, turning around to look at you. “Y/n, there aren’t even words to describe how incredible this picture is. I...I don’t know how you do it...” 

“Do what? you said, silently cheering to yourself that he liked it. As much as you appreciated everyone else’s input, his was the only opinion that you were fearful of.

“This...painting me like this. It’s...obviously me, but you make me look better. I don’t know how to explain it.” 

“I didn’t do much. I painted it based on a picture I took of you,” you explained. The picture was still saved on your phone, so you quickly pulled it up and handed him the phone so he could see for himself. “I didn’t want to be cliche and only make it my lockscreen.”

“Yeah, but this must have taken you ages,” he responded, meeting your gaze again with soft eyes. “Why would you go through all this trouble just to paint me?”

“Because you’re so beautiful when you’re smiling and happy, but you never get to see yourself the way I see you. When you see yourself, you only see pain and anger, but you’re so much more than that.” 

Jason’s expression was unreadable for a moment as he processed what you said. Then, his eyes fluttered and he was suddenly rushing towards you. You were startled by his sudden movement, but you relaxed once he gathered you up in his arms, lifting you off of the ground and burying his face in your neck. Jason’s sudden embrace brought a huge grin to your face. You were so glad he liked the painting and that you got to show him what you see when you look at him. There was so much love in your heart for him that you felt like you would combust if you didn’t share it. 

Jason spun you around before he settled onto the edge of your bed, hs face still hidden in your neck. Though he was hiding from you, you could feel the sudden wetness against the skin of your neck. 

“Jay, are you crying?” You asked softly, your hand moving to soothe his hair. You laughed a little when he shook his head but refused to show you his face. His arms held you tight against him as he found words. 

“God, when you say things like that I don’t know what to do. Nobody’s ever said anything like that to me before,” he mumbled. You smiled, bringing your hands down to rest on his shoulders. 

“Look at me, Jason,” you prompted. He hesitated, but looked up, finally meeting your eyes. Jason rarely cried around you, so it was a bit shocking to see the glistening in his eyes when he looked up. You slid your hands to rest at the base of his neck and kissed him sweetly. “I will always believe in you because you deserve the world and I’ll tell you that every day until you believe it.” 

Of course, as soon as you said that, Jason closed his eyes and immediately buried his face back into your neck. You laughed at his response, but you were entirely serious. Even though you hated working on it at times, you were so glad you committed to finishing the painting. If it could make him feel this loved and appreciated, it was all worth it. 

Tag List: 

@jason-todd-rh @chidroichan-blog @queen-fighter @hyp-oh-critical@roseangel013bf 

[lucislilangel-blog]

A change

A/N: pretend civil war never happened and all of them still lived in the tower and it wilk make sense😂 and maybe I'll make a part two but idk yet

Paring: None

Characters: Reader, Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Thor, Wanda, Peter.

Fandom: Marvel

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff

Summary: One day in the avengers tower you and Steve get bored and switch costumes for a day, soon everyone is switching costumes for the day

It all started when you and steve were training, it was simple hand-to-hand combat and even if you were fighting a super soldier and were smaller compared to him you were still a pretty good fighter and could keep a good pase.

After about thirty minutes which suprised you that you kept going for that long you took your water bottle and walked to the kitchen which steve followed.

Nothing was going on for a few days and none of the avengers were doing anything. You were bored out of your mind, sitting down on the couch steve followed you.

He silently sat down next to you, grabbing the remote and turning it on. "Want to switch Costumes" you asked casually looking at the tv.

"What" he said flatly as if he didn't hear correctly.

"Want to switch suits for the day?" You said looking over at steve.

The idea was definately interesting,

"Sure" he said trying not to question the reason behind it.

"I'll be right back" you said heading towards your room.

You strolled in and went straight towards your closet. You picked out your uniform which was Black and a dark shade of blue. It basically was just a pair of combat boots black pants and a black shirt with a black leather jacket that had a design which was dark blue. Grabbing it you beaded towards steve who was still sitting on the couch.

"Here" you said handing it to him.

He stared at it, sighed and grabbed it from your hands and started heading towards his room.

He came back with an uncomfortable smile and his uniform. You silently took out your phone and took a few pics.

"Why did I do this" he said still smiling for the pic.

"I was bored" you said simply.

"I need to keep this as my lockscreen" you said holding back laughter, he only sighed and took a seat on the couch. You took the uniform from his hands and rushed to your room.

"I need to see this" you whispered to yourself with a smile.

You slipped on the uniform and made your way to steve again.

"Ya'know I love this" you said as you spotted Bucky next to him.

"Hey! Buck look at this" you posed smiling.

"I'm Captain America" you said again holding the smile and pose, he laughed.

"Wanna join too" you asked, the biggest smile on your face.

"Sure doll" he said getting up to find his suit.

"Can you take a picture of me" you said to steve.

"Can I change now" he asked taking the pictures.

"Just switch with bucky" you replied nonchalantly.

He quickly changed out of it and came back in just boxers and uniform in hand

"Really Cap" you said as Bucky came in with the suit.

"Here," he said as he and steve exchanged suits. Steve just changed in front of you not caring anymore, grinning the whole time.

"Wow" he said feeling the suit.

"Do you want a picture?" You asked mimicking his grin.

"Hell yes" he said posing.

Just then Bucky came in "Language" he said jokingly

"Oh my lord!" You said laughing and pointing the camera at him.

He stood there actually posing trying to enjoy the moment.

"Hold up, I'll be right back" you hurridly found a hat, pen, and paper as you went to find the rest of the avengers.

First was Natasha and Clint who were training.

"Hey! Guys" you said trying to contain your excitement.

Both looked at you and saw Caps suit.

"What?" Both of them said in unison refering to the suit.

"Just follow me hurry!" You said running off and telling Bruce, Wanda, Tony, peter, and Thor.

They reluctently followed you and found Steve sitting on the couch with Buckys suit and Bucky sitting with your suit on.

You wrote down each of the avengers names in pen and tore and folded them as you out them in the hat.

"So I thought it would be a fun idea if we switched suits for the day" you said the excitement clear in your voice.

You made puppy eyes and all agreed not wanting to break your heart, that was the advantage of being the youngest avenger everyone fell for the puppy eyes. Everyone went to get there suits and came back to the area

Nat and clint went first reaching into the hat.

"Thor" Natasha said as thor handed her the suit. He actually seemed pretty happy about this whole thing.

"Wanda" clint said excited about trying on the suit.

Thor and wanda went next sibce they got picked, Thor got Tony, and wanda got peter.

Tony and peter went next and tony got Natasha while peter got Cap.

Steve, bucky and you went to change out of the costumes and you handed it to peter.

Steve went and bucky went next as steve got clints suit and bucky got bruces suit which was basically booty shorts and nothing else since he doesnt really have a suit.

Bruce and you, bruce got your suit and you got peters.

You went to change and saw that everyone was laughing and smiling pretending to imitate the people who they got.

At the end of the day you all took a group picture not wanting to forget this whole thing.

"We should do this again sometime" steve said smiling and watching his friends laugh for a while.