#happiness likes it quiet and tim knows it but also
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onthegoodsideofthings · 20 hours ago
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Bruce Wayne x GN! Reader Headcanons.
-Bruce Wayne is…new ish to the dating pool, I mean, it’s not like he has a lack of woman whom would date him, but still, he doesn’t ACTUALLY go out of his way to ask someone out. 
-So when he meets you he knows he’s whipped. All he wants to do is ask you out, introduce you to his kid (Damian) and all the strays he houses (his large amounts of wards.).
-He’s never really been the ‘I’ll show you how much I like you’ when it came to partners he’s had in the past, after all they tend to be short and fleeting, but when he saw you interact with Damian and get the boy’s approval he knew, ‘this’ll last.’
-So his ‘showing how much he likes you’ arch has begun. 
-The flowers he leaves you in the morning every Friday before work because he knows you love them.
-The small notes you find with them (the flowers) on occasion that you love and stick to your fridge, when he finds this out he leaves you a new note every day, he just quickly leaves you a hand written note and slides it in your door so you find it in the morning.
-He will call you after work before he goes on patrol to check on you, make due to remind you to stay safe and ask if you have anything going on this weekend, (he likes to take you on dates on Sunday nights. It’s like his favorite thing ever-)
-When you do meet his strays- sorry his wards, he prays they like you just as much as he does.
-And they do. First to trust you is surprisingly Damian, after all you were his teacher. (That’s how you and Bruce met in the first place.) it was awkward at first but Damian always enjoyed the way you taught and treated others so he was down to make you his Zaza. 
-Jason was next, he figured, hey Damian of all brats likes you so will he. He also likes that you know how to shoot a gun, when he found out you went to gun ranges he knew you were great, that’s how you hang out actually. #beingbestieswithJasonstart.
-Obviously Tim and Dick followed not to long after, Tim enjoyed that you didn’t mind the quiet or feel the need to fill it, he also enjoyed that you loved helping others (especially him, he wants to learn how to cook but Alfred is scary let’s be real so it’s nice to have someone who won’t judge him for not being perfect- not that Alfred would but he would give the vibe unintentionally.)
-And Dick liked that you were super supportive. Helping him rehearse how he wanted to propose to Barbra, (like bro him and Babs are so cute like AAAGHAGAGA) 
-So everyone liked you.
-It was nice being with such a large found family, You loved Bruce and you loved his family.
-And he loves that, he loves you, and he’s happy everyone else loves you too. 
-He knows that one day he’ll ask you to be his forever, his Mx. Wayne, but he’s not in any hurry. (Well he is, but he knows you value his company and love without having to be married, and you haven’t really talked about it-)
-TLDR He loves you and so does his family and that makes everyone happy.
-Welcome to the family!!
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ephemerensis · 18 hours ago
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Steamroller // Tim Drake x GN! Reader
happy new year! little enemies to lovers kind of thing kind of (theyre just like on opposite ends and they don’t really know it). stalker update for all interested parties: i think he’s starting to lose interest and give up 🙂‍↕���🙂‍↕️! also i graduated! yippee! NOT proofread.
Your favorite nights were ones like these, windswept and carefree as you sped down an empty street on your motorbike. With the last of your tasks wrapped up for the week, it was smooth sailing until the next rotation. Or so you thought before you heard a familiar grating voice bark at you, swinging into the view of your side mirror and chucking something at you.
Switching lanes, you narrowly avoided the batarang that came whizzing by. This guy again. Swinging your bike back around, you pushed the brakes to screech to a halt.
“Nice try bat rat, maybe aim next time!”
If it wasn’t so dark, you’d see the scowl plastered on his face as he stalked towards you. Red Robin hated you, and that was an understatement. Which was fine, you didn’t like him much either.
“Didn’t need to,” he spat. Pressing a button on his suit started up something like the sound of metal scraping pavement behind you. Before you could react, the sharp little object he threw at you came reeling back where it came, and the wheezing sound of your back tire losing air came with it. He threw a grappling hook at you.
“You’ve got to be joking.” In a way, it was your fault for taunting the guy. But this was the sixth encounter this week, if he wasn’t constantly out to get you, you’d think he were in love.
“What were you doing at the rendezvous point Penguin set up?” He stalked towards you, for what you weren’t sure. Sometimes he just wanted to provoke you, other times he’d just go for the swing. But you didn’t have time for that today.
“Intel, not that it’s your business.” You ripped a patch out from your utility belt, slapping it on the tire he just rudely tore a hole in before applying pressure to see if it’d last the way back.
“I’ll decide what my business is.”
“You stalking me everywhere says otherwise.” The tire sank more than you would’ve liked, but it would do. He stopped ten feet in front of you; looks like he didn’t want to fight tonight either. You rummaged through your pockets for good measure.
“I am not stalking you. You’re just where trouble happens to be.”
“Yeah. If that helps you sleep at night.” When your fingers brushed against the smooth plastic you were searching for, you mounted the bike again, turning on the headlights and adjusting your mirrors. It’s important to drive safe. “Anyways! Move.”
“What-“ Before he could finish his thought you pushed on the accelerator, watching him dive out of the way. It’s a shame his reflexes were so fast, if you ran him over he’d be out of commission for at least a month.
You tossed the plastic discs behind you as you sped off, leaving a flush of smoke behind you. He was good, but he wouldn’t be able to trace you with this.
Mercenary work never really was for you, let alone vigilante work. But growing up poor in Gotham and constantly grappling with loan sharks and the other unsavory groups your parents brought upon your family taught you a few things. And you found out you were pretty good at getting things done, the sneakier stuff: spying, stealing, occasionally taking out single targets, the quiet things. It felt bad but being hungry felt worse, survival of the fittest or something like that.
You were so good you paid it all off, and made a profit; enough to get yourself and your brother through college, and give the ol’ crime lords the slip. And things were good.
You liked your 9 to 5 office job, sorting through papers and typing on your laptop. You liked talking to your neighbors and inviting them over on the occasion for taco night. You liked your partner and the cozy apartment you lived in together.
Until your useless brother threw it all away, talking to the wrong people, getting into debt again, throwing around your name where it would mean anything, and it was square one.
So now you’re here. Running from some vigilante freak that has it out for you when you haven’t even done anything all that bad; it’s the people you work for he should be worried about. Instead he wants to breathe down your neck every night of the week, and he fails, every time. Maybe that was why he got so mad, as if there aren’t bigger fish to fry.
When you got back to your apartment, it was almost three in the morning. Slipping in as quietly as you could manage, you breathed a sigh of relief to find all the lights still off. Your boyfriend, Tim, always sleeps with a night light on, something about being scared of the dark. Lucky for you, he worked ungodly hours which made sneaking around a lot easier.
You’d just slipped into your pajamas when you heard the front door open and someone flicked the lights on. You could tell Tim was frustrated by the way he walked, brisk and heavy as he tugged off his coat and tossed his tie into the abyss. But he softened when he saw you, stopping in his tracks with an almost guilty look on his face, like he was sorry for feeling anything but joy in your presence.
“Oh hey, were you waiting up for me? I told you not to.” You shook your head, making your way over to press a kiss to his cheek and hold his hands. They were still cold from outside, the walk from the parking garage must’ve been treacherous.
“Are you okay?,” you asked, running your thumbs over the back of his hands. They were rough hands, surprising for a rich boy, but in your palms they were always so gentle.
He let out a breath, laughing a little before settling into a rueful smile, “I can’t get anything past you, can I? I’m okay. Just work stuff.”
“What kind of work stuff?” You tightened your grip on him, tugging him over to sit with you on the couch. He complied, leaning on your shoulder as he sunk into the cushions.
“Just something I can’t quite… resolve.” He sounded so tired. Business always went well, and Tim was a genius, it was a wonder how he ran into so many problems in the office. Sometimes you wanted to reach into that pretty skull of his and take a peek into his brain, maybe he was just overthinking things, or maybe you’d finally understand that you could never understand. Both would soothe you.
“Yet. Everything works out in time, and you’re the best I know. Can I help?” You felt him tense when you ran your hand over his shoulder, pulling away immediately to check on him. But before you could manage to ask he reached for you, shaking his head.
“No. It’s sensitive material. I’m okay,” he insisted, leaning on you again as he perched his arms neatly where they would fit around you. “Can we just stay like this for awhile?”
It was a good thing he never asked for anything malicious, because you’d say yes to just about anything he asked.
“Yeah.” You’d never known power so intimately before you held his skull to your chest. The way he surrendered himself and was whole, shedding the burdens of his responsibilities entirely to be vulnerable for a moment. But it was coupled by an intense fear, that his trust was rare and very easily abused or misguided if you weren’t careful. And if you weren’t, it felt as if he wouldn’t ever be vulnerable again.
“Thank you, and I love you,” he whispered. Your tired, hardworking boy.
“I love you more,” you answered.
It turns out the “I’m okay” business was a massive tri-colored bruise that bloomed on his left arm. He was careful to hide it, and if you didn’t wake up a little earlier than usual you would never have known. You didn’t ask, clearly he didn’t want you to, but you were concerned— and moreso curious. He did spar with his siblings, this you knew, but they’d never do something like that to him. Maybe he was sleep deprived and got stuck between the elevator doors somehow, you wouldn’t put it past him. If you had time later, you could check in while he’s in the office, drop off dinner or something to make sure he wasn’t getting picked on.
You got up an hour after him, as you always did. There was a rhythm to your morning routine that you adored, it was comfortable; reliable. Tim made the coffee, and you made breakfast. When you first moved in together he’d offered to cook, being the one to get up first and all, but he was hopeless. Anything beyond instant noodles was a fire and food safety hazard. And you made a mean scrambled egg.
You cooked so he did the dishes, a compromise you never objected to— it was your least favorite house chore. You’d loop his tie for him when he was done, and he’d kiss you on the forehead to leave first. Your job started a little later.
At least it would if you hadn’t requested a temporary leave of absence while you worked for Gotham’s worst. You had to report whatever intel you gathered yesterday night to Black Mask. He’d have another assignment for you after, you were sure. But if you were efficient with these things, it could all be over in a month or so.
That’s what you told yourself as you waved him out the door. Thursday nights Tim usually got back at a human hour, if you could wrap up business early you could be home by the time he was too.
Black Mask was waiting for you by the time you got there, unsurprisingly. It never got easier looking at him, freakish and impossible to read, behind his skeletal metal teeth.
“Penguin’s plan?” He’d asked before you had the chance to fully enter the room, eager as ever to maintain his grasp on power. Breathing isn’t worthwhile unless you’re winning he told you once.
“He wants to spread some influenza with his birds. It’s not serious, but the cure he’s selling is. It’s highly addictive and one of a kind. I got photos on this drive.” You placed it on the man’s desk, pushing it towards him as far as you’d dared. “He’s colluding with the woman who runs the second biggest pharm-tech company in the city. It has a six week timeline, some of it was in motion last week so three from here out.”
“Okay.” Without missing a beat he’d already decided your next assignment, “get me the cure.”
“Four people have access. A team or a raid would be better suited.” You took a breath to answer him. This wasn’t possible, at least not easily. It wasn’t a job you wanted to take, and it wasn’t practical. Money wasn’t Black Mask’s pursuit, it should’ve been enough just to thwart his enemies, not profit from them.
“I don’t pay you to argue.”
You had to swallow the fear that crept up your throat. Fear of death was always within reach, that much was obvious when you took on mercenary work, but the fear Black Mask brought on was a little more primal. Something instinctual you had to ignore.
You couldn’t take this job. The both of you knew it would go over the hours you were signed for, anything that could arouse suspicion from your normal life was carved into stone as off limits. Tim couldn’t know, that was the rule. And this assignment could take you weeks, “…it breaches our contract.”
“I pay overtime. And let me remind you, you’re in no position to say otherwise.”Disagreeing twice was a hefty endeavor and the man was right, you had your brother to consider. It’s always funny, the way you think you have any say in things. “Get me the cure.”
You didn’t have time to pack up, leave a note, or meal prep dinner. It was burdensome to disappear, at least a little. But Tim would be okay; hurt, but okay. It’s not like he’d miss you terribly, he was working over-overtime as it was, and you hoped he would forgive you when you got back.
So you vanished. It was quiet work, mostly tailing people to get a lead, working to worm your way in to the right social circles, sorting through files while people slept.
Red Robin was looking for you, or at least investigating your activity. He’d have caught you a few times now if you weren’t more focused on working during the day. Not that he knew what was going on, that much was evident. Not that he would be able to do anything if he did run into you again anyway, that boy just kept losing. Or maybe he didn’t want to win.
It was hard to know what his objective was. Just that he thought you were bad news and made things harder than they needed to be. But he did intrigue you. Righteous Red Robin never fought dirty and it was a little flattering how he was insistently so hot on your trail. Maybe you’d tease him about it after this whole ordeal and he could throw another grappling hook at you.
It only took two weeks to gather enough standing in Penguin’s sphere to have access to his office. With all the snooping you’d done, you knew every possible password and key you’d need to access the files for Black Mask. If you broke in tonight, you’d be by daylight. Theoretically.
So you took to it. It wasn’t hard to break in once you knew where everything was. Nothing was terribly discreet, just about as hidden as valuables would be in someone’s home. Getting into the main computer was a breeze, you’d talked up enough patrons and underlings for them to spill every access code they knew. As you slipped in a USB to transfer the remaining files you needed, a familiar set of footsteps sounded behind you.
Brisk, decided, and determined to be quiet, you knew he was lurching forward with a right hook before you had the chance to turn around. You jerked your body out of the way before he could make contact, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could manage. Thankfully the file transfer already started before he rudely interrupted your heist, you just needed to buy time.
“Can we not do this today?” You couldn’t help the annoyance creeping under your skin; Red Robin’s timing couldn’t have been worse. If he’d shown up ten minutes later you would’ve been gone. Of all the times to barge in, he chose to when you were just about done.
But he was faster than he usually was, before your thoughts could finish flowing through your skull he was throwing something at you again; muttering a sharp, “shut up,” in tandem. A gasp left you as it grazed your cheek, he’d never drawn blood before, even so minutely.
Before you had a chance to react he was on you, swinging his staff with enough force to kill a man. It was all you could do to avoid it before the next swing came, overbearing and deadly, unlike you’d ever seen from him. Any ounce of annoyance left in you evaporated in favor of fear and adrenaline, he was angry.
“What is your problem? If this is about running you over, I knew you’d dodge it!” The knives you had tucked away in your boot straps were useless, you didn’t have time to reach for them and even if you had them there were no openings to intervene. With a stroke of luck, he hit the wall hard enough for his staff to get stuck, giving you enough time to make a run for the window. The files would have to wait.
Just as you were reaching to pull up on the windowsill, a batarang caught the fabric of your shoulder, pinning you to the wall. Another grazed your outreached hand, distancing you further from your escape route.
If you were scared of Black Mask, you were terrified of Red Robin. Or at least, this state of him. You’d never noticed before how the whites of his mask looked like headlights, barreling towards a sundered deer. With whatever cognition you had left, your uninjured hand reached for the dagger in your boot, but you were slow and he wasn’t feeling gracious. He grabbed your wrist with one hand, pinning it next to your shoulder, and with the other he jerked you forward by your collar.
A glimpse of metal hanging on your neck made his scowl deepen and you winced for whatever he would throw at you next. But instead of a punch or getting hit with a blunt object, you felt the release of pressure when he snapped the dainty silver chain from you.
“Where did you get this?” he barked. There was something off about the way he said it, untethered. The necklace in question wasn’t something controversial; a chain with a pendant Tim had inscribed with his initials next to yours.
It wasn’t particularly valuable, nothing anyone would steal, but it meant something untouchable to you. Exactly eight months into dating he told you he loved you for the first time and presented you with it. The letters were rough around the edges from mistakes in sanding and carving when he etched the metal for you himself. And now it was being dangled in front of you, a reminder of all you could stand to lose if things went wrong. So easily snatched from you, as if they never belonged in the first place.
“Give it back.” You moved to sweep your leg under his feet, kick him, whatever you could to get it back and get out. It wasn’t fair in the slightest, he should know it wasn’t something to steal. But he just tightened his grip on your wrist and kneed your ribs once hard enough for you to keel over and stop moving.
“Where did you get this?” His anger was building, you could hear, but you didn’t care much anymore. He didn’t have the right.
“It’s mine,” you spat through gritted teeth.
“Liar.” A pang of confusion hit you, as if this were something to lie about. He was in your face now, and you glared back behind your own mask. If he didn’t back off soon you had half a resolve to bite his nose off. “What did you do to the owner? This is your last chance.”
Like Red Robin could do anything to you. You felt like a dog backed into a corner, sure enough. But upper hand or not, no one wins in a fight against a rabid dog, even if you manage to put it down.
“And I’m telling you for the last time, it’s mine.” But if you get put down, you can’t crawl back. The courage behind your words was starting to sound like desperation. “My boyfriend gave it to me and you need to give it back.”
And then your resolve was gone altogether, a plea more than a demand, for absolution. Your voice quivered on the last few words, maybe it was for the better, it seemed like that was the only part he heard anyway.
The blood in your wrist started flowing again as he let go of it, looking at you with something akin to terror. Swallowing lead, you considered taking the chance to run; rip the sleeve that was caught and book it. But something held you there, vulnerability? Or some deviant of the terror he was feeling. Your legs wouldn’t move now.
He was slow in reaching for your mask. You must’ve been slower, because you didn’t stop him. You couldn’t do anything at all, not with the way your heart was pounding in your ears. Everything in you was screaming all at once, but you couldn’t understand a thing they were saying and it was getting hard to breathe.
You squinted to adjust your vision once the mask was off, and something wet slid down your cheek. Dust must’ve gotten under the thing, you weren’t one to cry.
“Y/N?” He’d caught you and you let it happen. You heard the chain clink on the floor, and you were so sorry to Tim that you let it happen. Soiled something he put time into. Maybe it was fitting, you always took that boy for granted.
You flinched when he reached for you, pressing your eyes shut. But Red Robin didn’t cuff you like you expected. Knock you out, threaten you, chain you to a street lamp outside for the police to collect. Instead you felt arms wrap around you, hefty and secure, a welcoming warmth in juxtaposition to the cold, stagnant office air. And you knew these arms, and you knew this feeling, and you knew this scent.
“Tim?” It came out like a squeak, you didn’t intend that.
And then his head was buried in your shoulder again, his spot as it’d always been. “I thought someone took you.”
He took the liberty of freeing you from the wall first, and you dropped to the floor. Your knees felt like jello. It made sense, some of it. The late nights and the injuries.
“Without a ransom note?” you murmured. You didn’t know what else to say. It’d been Tim the whole time.
“Don’t joke.” He knelt beside you, tucking a stray strand behind your ear. After the shock, the guilt came barreling in. You caused his injuries. You got in his way. You ran away without saying anything. You’d been hurting him the whole time.
“I’m sorry.” You squeaked for the second time. After the guilt was the confliction. You didn’t know to do. Half reaching for him, half shying away.
So Tim grabbed your hands, stilling you completely with just that. He pulled a strip of cloth out of his belt to wrap around the palm he cut moments before. It was shallow, nothing that would scar.
He was probably as confused as you were, quiet to sort out the events as they’d unfolded— and the before. There was a lot to ask and a lot to explain, you wouldn’t know where to start. And if you did start, you didn’t know if you could stop. It was too much. You were tired. There were time constraints. The first bit of reality slipped itself into your mind, the two of you weren’t the only two in the world and you were here on a job. “Please don’t ask, I’ll tell you when I have the heart but please don’t ask. I might cry. I’m sorry.”
“You’re already crying.” His thumbs brushed your tears away as if just to prove it. But they stayed after, running the pad of his fingers over your cheeks for as long as you’d let him. A soothing pattern.
“Am I? I’m sorry.” Your eyes were locked onto him, and you knew he was looking back even if his eyes weren’t visible. The longer you stared, the more the tears seemed to flow. And you couldn’t fathom why you were crying.
“For what?” He said it as if nothing were wrong, and that’s all it took for the dam to burst. Flinging your arms around him to cry your worth into his shoulders. You didn’t deserve this boy.
“I love you,” you sobbed.
“I love you more,” he answered.
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hyperblue · 7 months ago
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interviewer: there have been some rumors circling around that you're a taken man now :) would you like to share who's a lucky girl or guy?
tim drake, torn between wanting to keep his relationship with kon private and safe from prying eyes but at the same time wanting to brag about his drop gorgeous boyfriend to everyone who would listen: uh.
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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago
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Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.
“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”
God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.
Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.
“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”
“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”
“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”
Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.
“What happened?!”
“My word, master Danny!”
“What is it?!”
“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”
Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.
“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”
“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.
“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.
“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”
The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.
“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”
“Danny.”
“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.
“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.
Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.
“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”
Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…
“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”
“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.
“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”
The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.
“Done.”
“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”
“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”
“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”
“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”
“Very well.”
“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.
——
“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”
“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.
“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”
“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”
Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.
“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”
“Tt.”
“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”
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clockwayswrites · 3 months ago
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Bitty birb in the nest is worth...? Part 19
Masterpost This is going to have many typos and spelling issues, but it currently feels like I've got an ice pick in my temple and my skin hurts so there's no rereading happening atm. Sorry!
-
Danny looked up as Tim Drake-Wayne strode into the lab and closed the door quietly behind himself.
“Tim?”
“Mm-hum?” Tim hummed as he sat down his thermos before he shed his messenger bag, coat, and school jacket onto an open part of desk.
Danny watched on with bemusement. The kid looked half asleep. “Not that it isn’t great to see you again, but what are you doing here, honey?”
“Bruce is on a call running Luthor in circles and then has to talk to legal about some stuff because Luthor is always an ass. We’re supposed to go run an errand and then to dinner together, so I’m stuck here until he’s ready to leave for the day.”
“I’m sorry,” Danny said honestly.
“It’s okay, at least Bruce won’t forget, not like—” Tim shut his mouth with a snap, seemingly suddenly thinking about what he was saying.
“It’s okay, I get it,” Danny said, because he did. “You need somewhere to hide out then?”
“Yeah, it’s… calm here.”
“Okay. Sit wherever you want that’s clear. If you need to move something, let me know first, okay?”
“Thanks,” Tim said, shoulders finally losing some of their tension.
“Of course, whenever you need.”
Not wanting to push Tim in any way, Danny kept a subtle eye on the boy as Tim absently wandered around Danny’s office. To Tim’s credit, he did try to touch anything or move things around, even as he obviously grew increasingly tired.
It would be a lot, Danny supposed, to be a teen ager trying to live up to the legacy of two important families in the area, learn the business, go to school, and (hopefully) also spend time with friends. Danny knew how hard it had been only having Phantom as an obligation.
While, sure, Danny wished Tim had made chosen a less neck cramping spot, he was happy to see Tim finally settle down and seemingly fall asleep… under one of Danny’s work benches. Danny couldn’t fuss too much, he’d done that plenty in grad school himself. Once Tim seemed properly asleep, Danny got up to fetch his cardigan from the hook by the door and took it to drape over the sleeping kid. Tim let a little huffed breath of air before he snuggled further into the cardigan and settled back into sleep.
It made Danny’s heart melt in a way that he didn’t want to think too hard about.
It really was no surprise when about forty-five minutes later one Bruce Wayne poked his head into Danny’s office. The door was hardly open when Danny had his finger up and over his mouth in the universal sign of ‘shush’.
Bruce titled his head curiously. Danny gave a little nod of his head towards the workbench that Tim was sleeping under. Silently, Bruce moved to the work bench and crouched down next to it. There was a soft, amused sound before Bruce reached out to brush his hand over Tim’s forehead, as if habitually checking for a fever.
When Bruce returned to where Danny was working, he asked softly, “How long has he been asleep?”
“A little over a half hour. It took him about ten minutes to settle in,” Danny answered, voice equally quiet.
“Then do you mind if I let him keep resting for another fifteen minutes or so? He’s likely to wake up on his own then.”
Danny shook his head. “Nope, let the kid rest. He seems like he needs it.”
Bruce glanced at Tim, his expression that soft sort of worried only parents seemed to get. “He does. He works too hard at… everything. He’s always trying to prove himself even when he doesn’t need to anymore.”
Danny made a little questioning noise as he got back to fiddling with the annoyingly tiny screws.
“His parents were… demanding. They had very exacting ideas of what proper high society behavior was,” Bruce explained. “I’m sadly not the best suited at dismantling those ideas either.”
“Ah… well, what do you do that encourages him to be a kid?” Danny asked.
“He skateboards, actually. And he enjoys photography, but even that became a goal what with art competitions at school.”
“Maybe take him and Damian on a mini art vacation? Somewhere pretty. Somewhere where it’s not about judges,” Danny suggested. He finally got the last screw seated so he glanced up at Bruce’s thoughtful face.
“That’s a good idea,” Bruce said. “I’ll start looking at what might work. Thank you.”
“Sure, ideas are kinda what I do,” Danny said and motioned to the office around him with the screwdriver.
Bruce’s answering chuckle was low and warm. “I suppose it is. I hope you’re also not overworking yourself.”
“I’m doing much better,” Danny assured Bruce. “I just needed some rest.”
“Which my children made sure you got. I’m still sorry that they kept you so long on Friday.”
It was Danny’s turn to laugh. “Honestly, I don’t think you really have much control over what they do.”
“No, I really don’t,” Bruce admitted. “But I wouldn’t have them any other way.”
“That’s good; they’re a pretty amazing family,” Danny said with a soft smile. “And if I don’t get to be sorry about falling asleep, you don’t get to be sorry about making me rest.”
“You drive a hard bargain, but deal.”
“I am a master business man,” Danny teased and ducked his head to hide his smile.
“I’ll have to watch for corporate take overs. Keep an eye on the stocks and papers.”
“Maybe. Oh, speaking of… Well, not speaking of but sort of related? You know, I was joking about us making the papers.”
Bruce hummed curiously so Danny set aside his tools to pull up the story that several coworkers had sent him on his table. He spun it to face Bruce. The picture of them in the box was big on the screen. They were pressed almost chest to chest with Bruce’s arms around Danny. It certainly looked incriminating.
“Well shit,” Bruce said with a sigh. He picked up the tablet to scan through the article. There wasn’t anything in it, of course, just wild speculation. “I hope you haven’t been harassed about this by anyone.”
“I don’t think anyone knows who I am to harass me,” Danny said honestly. “Some coworkers have sent me it, but apparently it’s just my luck to have both randomly run into a Wayne and be invited to an event and have one of my ‘spells’ when I’m around them.”
Bruce looked at him with one well manicured brow raised. “You have interesting luck.”
“Yep. It’s been quite a life so far. I was pretty much born into interesting luck and life has really lived up to that luck and died by it,” Danny said with a little chuckle as he took his tablet back.
“I feel concerned by that last part.”
Danny hummed in question, distracted by pulling his notes back up.
“The having died by the luck part.”
“Oh.” Danny smiled, but he knew that expression was less than a happy one. “I think I mentioned that there was an accident when I was a kid?”
Bruce nodded and lean his elbows on the work bench and crosses his arms. “You did. One that is apparently still affecting your pulse to this day.”
“Yes, well,” Danny glanced away from Bruce. Why was it still so hard to talk about. “When I was fourteen, I was electrocuted at at an… industrial level of voltage. Unsurprisingly it killed me. And hey, obviously I came back! But that sort of thing sticks around.”
“I’m sorry.”
Danny looked back at Bruce, honestly startled. In all this time, Danny wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard a ‘I’m sorry’ about his accident, not without strings attached. His lips quirked into a smile again. This one felt more pleasant. “Thanks. Trust me though, I’m grateful that life has, had been calmer.”
Whatever Bruce was going to say to that was cut off by a loud yawn, the sound of someone shifting around, and then the unmistakable bang of a limb against the metal legs of one of the workbenches.
Quiet cussing followed a moment later.
“You okay there, Tim?” Danny asked.
“Fine,” Tim hissed back.
“I’m sure I have an instant icepack in my office. We can grab one before we leave,” Bruce said.
“B?” Tim asked, voice noticeably brighter. A moment later he appeared out from under the desk.
“Hi, sweetheart, sorry that I had to take that call,” Bruce said as he stepped over to Tim. He reached out to brush the teen’s hair a little straighter.
“It’s fine, it’s Lex, I get it.”
“I know you get it, but that doesn’t mean it has to be fine.”
Tim just shrugged. The action made him notice the the cardigan draped over his shoulders. A little blush rose on his cheeks as he took it off and handed it back to Danny. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for Tim, you weren’t any problem,” Danny assured him. “You’re welcome in my office whenever.”
“You’re going to regret that,” Tim said.
Danny just shrugged with a smile.
“Come on, chum, let’s go find that icepack. We’ll still get to your store before it closes,” Bruce said and started to guide Tim out by the shoulder.
Bruce glanced behind him and Danny gave a little wave to the retreating Waynes.
His luck indeed.
-
“What happened in Danny’s office that’s bothering you?” Tim asked. He had the icepack pressed against his elbow and was sitting almost sideways so that he could take in all of Bruce’s expression.
Bruce was doing that thing where he was feeling big, complicated emotions and wishing he wasn’t. Tim could read it in the way that Bruce’s shoulders were set, that little bit of tightening under his eyes, and the way he was very purposefully not frowning.
“B,” Tim pressed.
Bruce sighed, the sound all of his air. “I think we should leave Danny alone, both as Waynes and as Bats.”
Tim jolted and scrambled to sit up further. “Wait, what? Bruce, what happened?”
“Nothing bad,” Bruce assured Tim. “Nothing bad happened. Vicky got a picture of Danny and I at the ballet. We spoke some about it and Danny talked about how he had interesting luck. He said he was grateful that life has been calmer; he had to change that to had.”
“…oh.”
“It’s just that—”
“No, you’re right. I’ll try to talk to the others about it because you know they won’t listen to you about it.”
“I’m sorry, Tim.”
“It’s fine, I get it.”
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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 5 months ago
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Kitchen Dances
~500 words
Jason Todd is in love with his best friend. He knows that. Accepts it. Thrilled with it even. The thought nags at him as he watches you dance around the kitchen, singing as you bake some new treat you wanted him to try. The problem is with how to tell you. How do you tell someone you love them? He doesn't really have any good examples to go off.
Bruce tells Selina he loves her by chasing her across all of Gotham only to let her get away. (After he's recovered whatever stolen treasure she's gotten her hands on.) Cute, but you're not exactly robbing any high priced jewelry stores or priceless artifacts.
Dick tells Kori he loves her by cheering while she single handedly takes on an army of goons with ease. Romantic, sure, but like hell is he putting you anywhere near an army of goons.
Tim tells Bernard he loves him by deep diving into his newest conspiracy theory, well thought out rebuttals and anecdotes that lead to hours of conversation. Classy, but not exactly something you're doing.
Damian tells people he loves them by introducing them to his pets, eagerly explaining how he met each animal and how amazing they are. Hm. Better, but Jason doesn't exactly have a surplus of pets at the moment. Should he get a dog? Or a cat? Would you like a cat better?
A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he glances at the ceiling. None of those are good enough for you, none of them show exactly how he feels about you.
He focuses back on the present, on you. He likes the way you're smiling as you sing. But he also likes the way your mouth moves along to the words when you sing. He's smiling the whole time you sway about the kitchen, stealing glances at you. You don't quite notice, enjoying yourself and letting out an excited noise when your favorite song comes on. But he always notices you. Always.
"Dance with me!" Your voice cuts into his thoughts, light and happy.
"I'm not much of a dancer." Jason protests, but he's already on his feet walking to you. Anything you asked for. Anything you want.
He takes your waist in one hand and your hand with the other, fingers curling against soft skin. He spins you around, both of you clumsy dancing along to the beat, laughing as you step on each other's toes and knock into counters.
It's sweet. Perfect even. Maybe this is how he tells you he loves you. In each note of the song, with the light in his eye that always brightens when he sees you. Maybe this is how you both tell each other you love them.
For Jason, that's all he needs right now. Pounding hearts and laughter tucked under the quiet light of your kitchen, the sweet smell of baked goods in the air, safe in the rhythm of your favorite song.
Part Two
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yoitsjay · 6 days ago
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Just curious if you could do this, but-
Pegging batboys headcanons? PLEASE???
I would literally sacrifice my first born for you if you make this happen.
*Twirls hair* Ily, bye!!
😘
I screamed (the s is silent)
"Can I shove my fake, thick cock in your ass baby? Please? God pleasepleaseplease-"
Pegging the batfam HC:
Bruce Wayne
He'd be unsure at first, I think. He had never been with a woman who not only was desperately horny 24/7 (I see you sluts), but was also kinky as hell.
This was new.
At first he'd say no, the idea was uncomfortable to him and you understood, you thanked him for thinking about it, then gave him a really good blow to soothe it over.
After that... he dived into the research.
It started with articles, about the safety and concerns with pegging, proper handling, and 'etiquette'.
Then he started watching videos when you weren't home, and he was alone.
He watched as men were reduced to nothing but whimpering, pleading messes under the relentless, or sensual assault of their lovers silicone cocks.
He got rock hard.
Then he brought it to you.
And within hours you had playboy billionaire philanthropist, begging and crying on his hands and knees, needing you to stop teasing and prepping and to just fuck him.
How could you say no?
Dick Grayson
"Yes"
It was his immediate answer. And honestly it kind of caught you off guard. You knew dick was a slut, but you didn't know he was this much of a slut.
He let you do all the prep you needed, he bought toys for himself, proper lube, etc, wanting it to be perfect.
When it finally happens you do a little roleplay, then he's yanking down your pants and watching the (surprisingly realistic) silicone spring free from your pants.
He's practically slobbering as he blows you, though you can't feel it, you have a vibrator inside of you for some mutual satisfaction. And he's getting off on the sound of your moans as he hollows his cheeks and pulls off with a lewd pop.
You have him bent over the couch within seconds, biting and sucking at his shoulders and the back of his neck as you pound into that plump ass of his.
He can only cry and beg for more.
Jason Todd
He didn't know what you meant at first.
Yeah he could be kinky but it hadn't been long since he had come back from the dead, he just got used to having you back in his arms, so sex was soft, loving. He didn't want to hurt you.
Then you explained what it was.
And his eyes go wide.
He loves you too much he can't say no.
Again, going through the prep.
Once it's time you slowly push in and his eyes fly wide.
Then he's fisting himself as he buries his face into your pillows, inhaling your scent as he rocks back and forth on the bed, trying to hide his moans, and the way his face flushed, not expecting this to feel so fucking good.
Then you start to hear little grunts, then moans, and he gradually gets louder as he gets closer, and closer.
And when he cums it's explosive, and you've reduced him into a whimpering, begging mess. "One more time- please- please-"
Tim Drake
He brought it up first. And it surprised you. You both sat together, did research, watched videos (and helped each other get off to those videos.)
You went shopping together and brought the proper supplies and asked important questions to forums with a lot more experience. And once you both felt that you were ready, it began.
Tim was loud. Louder than all of them. This little muscly twink was pushing his ass back against you with every thrust, throwing his head back, arching, moving into any position you wanted him in just so he could feel you deeper.
You got off on how loud he was being.
Tim, who was normally so focused, quiet, observant, was blissfully fucked out of his mind, drooling, crying out your name as he grasped and tugged on your arms, hair, hips, anything he could get his hands on...
He'd die happy like this, speared on your cock.
Damian Wayne
"No fucking way"
He wouldn't even let you explain what it was. At first he kind of kink shamed you, and you won't lie, it stung.
He noticed you went quiet after that, even when he made love to you, your moans were quieter, almost entirely just grunts or soft sighs, like he wasn't making you as aroused as he used too.
He apologized, figuring out quickly that it was the way he shut down your words so quickly. All you asked was for him to just research.
And research he did.
He was still unsure, but eventually you managed to talk him into it.
He couldn't deny by the end that he thought it was definitely diffrent... fun in a way.
You both agreed it wouldn't happen all the time, only when you really needed to add some spice to the bedroom, or when he found himself begging for it.
Now that boosted your ego.
And when he was under you? He was a lot like Jason, moaning, hiding his face in embrarssment, fisting himself to every thrust, his orgasm coming so fast his mind went blank.
Safe to say, the batboys love that thick silicone cock of yours.
Slut.
Tag list:
All: @francesfarhadi
Batfam:
BW smut:
DG smut:
JT smut:
TD smut:
DW (aged up) smut:
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waywardducks · 7 days ago
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Batboy’s favorite dates
All characters are 18 or older ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১
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Dick<3:
Honestly, where ever you're happy, he's happy. He's pretty outgoing, concerts, amusement parks ect. He likes exciting dates, by he would never say no to a night in with extra cuddles. He likes to lay out options and let you decide, because like I said, what makes you happiest is ultimately what will make him happiest.
“Your favorite band is in town next month, guess who just scored front-row seats!”
Jason<3:
Bookstore trips and quiet days out are Jason’s go to. Maybe a motorcycle ride out to the bookstore, then to a gun expo and home for some homemade dinner and some good old fashion Netflix and chill. He also seems like a 3 am local 24/7 diner date kinda guy.
“Get dressed, we’re going out.” No questions asked.
Tim<3:
Tim is a gamer and hella neurodivergent. A night in playing video games, eating take out, chugging weird monthser and sour candy concoctions, and case file solving is the perfect date. He likes to spoil you too, romantic dinners, long drives to small towns he thinks you’ll love, shopping trips and Galas.
“Hey, put this on. There's a new restaurant I've been wanting try. I think you’ll like it.”
Damian<3:
He’s a man of culture and a rich boy, you know your dates are elite. Art galleries, expensive restaurants, and museums. He loves a quiet date, something peaceful. Aquariums and animal sanctuarys are always a good go to. Maybe a pottery class, a wine and painting date. Anywhere you too can talk quietly and be together.
“The Gotham History Museum has a new ceramics exhibit. Shall we go together?”
Bruce<3:
Bruce is a classy man. Wine tasting at an expensive Italian restaurant, Galas (a new gown of your choice for each one), a day out on his yacht, he’ll fly you to the keys just so you can walk on the beach together. Money isn't an issue for him, he'll start each date with a new piece of jewelry and beautiful flowers.
“These earrings reminded me of you, they match your eyes perfectly.”
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mixingandmelting · 1 month ago
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Hi! If you are accepting requests right now can you please write how batboys will act around fem! reader when they are in love/crushing on her? Also getting jealous when their crush gives more attention to someone else other than them?
If you are not accepting requests right now then you don't have to write it thank you anyways ❤️❤️❤️
A/N: This was such a classic and fun to write anon! Thanks for the request ❤️
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Dick
He constantly craves for your attention, wanting you to look at him as much as he looks and thinks about you. Always keeping you on your toes with affectionate teasing, intentionally pushing your buttons to get you to chase after him, or pulling pranks enjoying how he surprises you using his acrobatic skills and stealth. He even performs parlor-magic tricks including the one where all of a sudden there’s a rose in his hand after brushing the stray hair behind your ear and tucking it into your hair. He loves how adorable you look when annoyed as much as hearing you praise him from being impressed, but the fact he can get you to focus on him and only him sends him over the moons. 
When he gets jealous, he tries not to get obvious. He behaves as if he’s also interested in the other person you’ve been giving your attention to, asking about mundane things to see how you feel and think of them. But when your replies are filled with positives and not the typical meh, he gets moody and might leave to brood for a bit.  He doesn’t appreciate competition when he’s busting his butt to win you over, desiring to be the only person in your eyes and heart. When you’re talking to them, he casually slides into the conversation and acts normal. Body relaxed, cracking jokes and laughing. Everything seems fine except he stays close to your side, where if you move a bit, he moves too so he stays exactly where his spot is- right next to you. 
Jason
The way he acts is as if he’s back being the second Robin prior to his death. The jokes he cracks and the replies he gives are more light-hearted while found more frequently, genuinely smiling and laughing when with you. He’s a bit more mindful with what or how he states things, not wanting to hurt you. This includes him getting apologetic if his words come out too rough. One could argue he’s being shy and self-conscious if only he was actually self-aware he’s acting like this. He knows how to act charming, having picked up girls a few times. Having a crush, though, is a completely new, uncharted-territory for him. The only thing that comes in his mind is to show his best sides, hoping that he won’t scare you off and he’d be able to stay with you longer while making you happy when he’s around. 
He is not good at handling jealousy at all. There’s tension in his body and gets smart-mouthed whenever he attempts to break the conversation going between the other person and you. Luckily for him, his behavior comes off as him being sassy since he does restrain himself as he’s in front of you. Eventually he gets the other to scram as he continues to stand behind you, sending an intimidating glare that’s backed up by his height and muscles. He’s more quiet and stiff, getting extra sarcastic and a bit dark humored in his replies when you won’t stop talking about them, hating and irritated by the ugly emotions he has. Even more so when it’s not actually your fault, it’s his for being in love with you. 
Tim
He’s very attentive towards you. Always texting you, seeing how things are, wanting to know if you’re okay while sending a message back as soon as he gets one from you, basically making himself your go-to texting buddy. He’s quick to pick out your likes and dislikes, keeping a mental note of them whenever he’s inviting you to go somewhere or getting you something. He acts a bit impulsive subconsciously, giving you a hug out of the blue when he gets excited or nerding out over something or grabbing your hand so he can get you to see one of the best scenes he knows you’ll ever see. He won’t ever admit it but he tends to be extra when skateboarding in front of you, enjoying how you get awestruck with the tricks he shows. 
When you’re giving someone else more attention, he slides into the conversation and will try to turn the conversation away from you. Polite business smile that doesn’t reach his eyes while standing close, right next to you, yes he is intentionally trying to imply something without you knowing . When you talk about them, he listens but snorts and does not agree with any good comment you make. May drop some questions here and there to see what you think of them. The only reason it only goes that far though  is because he already did a background check on them, so he can get a good idea if the other party is within the realm of your interest or not. 
Duke
He’s extremely jumpy and hyper aware. Physical touching is a no-go where he’ll flinch, jump, or stiffen up. Literally, if you accidentally brush hands against his, he’s shooting that hand up as if he’s raising his hand for class. His face is on fire if you get too close and when he talks with you, he’s needing to put in twice the effort to pay attention to what you’re saying since his mind keeps trailing off on how good you looked for today. Thankfully he’s able to still act like himself whenever you guys talk, still being sarcastic and real. Just, he comes off as being weird making him wonder why he can’t act naturally and play things down-to-earth. 
If you’re paying attention to someone more than him whether it’s talking about them more than usual (in his perspective) or talking with them physically (again in his perspective), he’s the type to get uncomfortable and portray unease. Contrary to his usual sarcastic self, he gets quiet and at some point might try to change the topic to something else. He doesn’t interrupt the conversation when you’re talking with the other person since he doesn’t know how to act in situations without making you realize he has a crush on you. He does manage to stay polite when he’s suddenly mentioned or dragged into the conversation, but there’s a lot of awkwardness because he doesn't want to continue talking with them. 
Damian
He’s extremely hot and cold, acting exactly how little kids tend to act around their crush. He teases you a lot, making so many remarks and snarky comments over things that aren’t even significant. He absolutely loves to show off the things he’s capable of doing in all fields, wanting to hear you and just you on how amazing he is. He is very possessive of you where if you got a new pen or eraser from someone, he’ll get rid of it and replace it with or without you noticing with something he gets you instead. It only happened once or twice though. He usually intercepts it before the gift gets to you. 
It’s because of this, he gets jealous really easily. When you’re giving more attention to someone, he’ll be sending them the look that shows that the other signed a visit from death. That or one that screams for the other to leave or else. He’ll be criticizing starting from hair to shoes, nothing left behind. He’ll go low enough and start a childish fight with you over how you’re constantly talking about the other party,  bringing them up in every conversation. And it’s only because he feels as though you aren’t appreciating his presence in your life, feeling threatened that you’d not want to be with him anymore because he isn’t good enough.
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i-yap · 7 months ago
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MY FAVORITE IS DICK GRAYSON FORVER WILL BE DICK GRAYSON AND HERE IS WHY
DICK GRAYSON X Y/N ( FRUSTRATED ME EDITION)
- first of all , he is the hottest character in dc (literally the comics have written this line by line)
- he is the real one with communication issues. You think jason struggles with that? NO jason uses any chance to tell me people how much he suffered. But dick? He wears a smile, he hides everything he is feeling
- the only person who gets to see the real him is YOU. The stress, the pressure, the mommy daddy issues...cmon. and bruce prolly was the worst at raising grayson and learned from his mistakes for the rest
- dick is someone who tries to be happy. Who tries to have a normal life. Who tries not to let his issues affect him . But they do which is why he has so many fucked up relationships. But when he meets you he wants to keep you, he needs to keep you with him. So he tries yet again to open up, fix his issues, love you the way you truly deserve.
- AND let us all not pretend we are all not stressed asf in life. He is so joyful and bright and will almost never dull the mood. Car karaoke ? Done. Skinny dipping in some random lake you drive by? His suggestion. Amusement parks? He is excitedly pulling you to all the rides and WILL 100% WIN YOU THE BIGGEST TEDDY
- he is deep, he js in touch with his feelings and he knows how to take care of you. Idk abt u guys but I have issues . I want a man who gives you those words of affirmation, who makes it super obvious he likes you.
- he needs you just as much as jason or tim or damian do. He also never had genuine love, he also has been a soldier a leader the person responsible all his life. He needs yo hold you, he needs that peace and quiet away from everything he has to deal with . He wants someone he can come home to and just show how drained he is .
- he is so kind to the world but he WILL BURN IT FOR YOU . I refuse to believe any other opinion on this. No matter how big a hero this guy is...remember how he killed joker for jason? Someone he said he hated? Broke the no kill rule?? Yea imagine what he will do for you.
- and how dare u suggest he isn't jealous/ possessive. He gets so cranky..not insecure and u don't have to coddle him and avoid all other men ...but u do have to give him extra kisses
-HE IS THE REAL GREEN FLAG fuck the whole " a hero will sacrifice you for the world but a villain will burn the world for you" NOT HIM NO HE WILL KILL EVERYONE OKAY cuz how date anyone suggest taking you away from him after everything he has done for the world. You are his reward and you better remember that.
- slow waltzing in the kitchen while he sings you his favorite love song, giggling in a pretty cafe while sharing a piece of cake( he is feeding you the whole thing and will kiss you when u Ask why he isn't eating any himself) , getting tipsy and walking back home all sweet and drunk and in love. He is adventurous and wants to experience everything With you.
- best part, everyone around u will love him. I'm sorry but I like it when my bf is liked by the old ladies and my parents and my boss. He will make you the power couple, even if you aren't as "powerful". He is your biggest loudest supporter always. Always introducing you to ppl as if you cured world hunger , telling everyone just how smart and kind you are taking any opportunity to talk about You. And dancing with him at galas makes you feel like a princess
- he will get the best gifts, say the sweetest things, be the most supportive kind eyes only for you guy once he genuinely falls in love.
I love jason a lot too, and tim and bruce too. Like yes I daydream about all of them But I just hate how underrated my boy here is.
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help-itrappedmyself · 10 months ago
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Dead on Main Part 9
My apology for the earlier mishap. Hope you like it!
Masterpost
A few hours later, a fourth of the way home, they start arguing about who should drive the next shift. There seem to be two main arguments. The first is between Dick and Bruce on whether Bruce even needs a break.The second is between Dick and Tim about who should take over for Bruce.
Bruce has been driving for four hours, and it’s now about midnight, so he should take a break to sleep. Dick had napped for about an hour after the panicked stop when Jason’s ectoplasm had gone haywire, and he was the only one who had slept so far. He’s winning the argument between him and Bruce. Because he was the only one who had napped so far, and apparently Tim had been awake for a terrible amount of time, Dick is also winning the argument between him and Tim.
Danny is pretty sure even sleep deprived most people would drive better than his father, and he doesn’t have a driver’s license so he keeps quiet. It’s funny how intense they get in their arguments without ever becoming serious. Danny appreciates that no matter how intense they get there’s never any anger in their voices.
“Tim, you haven’t slept more than five hours in the last two days, you are not driving this car. There is no way you are driving this car. Neither of us are going to let you.”
“Bruce has been awake for 23 hours straight!” Tim argues.
“Which is why Bruce should also not be driving anymore!”
“Tim you are definitely not driving, go to sleep. Dick, If we switch drivers we have to stop and we can’t afford to stop and waste time. We’ll switch drivers when we need gas next.” Bruce states rationally. Danny thinks this is a good argument really.
“If we crash and die we’ll also waste time.” Tim points out, sulking.
“Switching drivers will take all of two seconds and so help me If I am not driving in the next two minutes I am commandeering the radio for the rest of the trip and you know neither of you will be able to stop me.”
Danny isn’t sure why that is so serious of a threat, but that shut both Bruce and Tim up immediately. Bruce pulls over and they do a quick seating change. Since Bruce and Tim need to sleep so one of them can drive later, Danny switches into the passenger seat while Dick slips into the driver's seat. That way Bruce and Tim can stretch out in the back.
“What do you listen to that they dislike so much?” Danny asks a little later. Danny can’t tell if either of them are sleeping, but neither of them have moved at all in the last ten minutes. He’s quiet just in case.
“I mean, I like a lot of music. They just know that I can put on circus music for hours. I grew up in a circus, so I'll even enjoy doing it. It annoys them after like three songs at most though.”
Danny has a moment where all he can think of is Freakshow’s circus, but he shakes it off.
“Did all of you grow up in the circus?” Danny could have sworn Bruce was more like Vlad. Grew up wealthy, ran a business (less illegally, he thinks, but that's not hard considering), and went to parties and stuff. Dick laughs at his question.
“No, only me, I’m afraid.” Dick glances at the back seat, before refocusing on the road. “Bruce adopted all of us, except for Damian. But even Damian grew up with his mother before coming to live with Bruce. So all of us have very different upbringings actually. Circus for me. Jason was next, he had a hard life before Bruce found him, and after too. He’s been through a lot. Tim had rich parents, they loved him but weren't around much. Duke was adopted after his parents died but he was raised by both of them, he had the most normal life growing up.”
“Tim and Damian both found Bruce more than the other way around. Damian’s mom… loves him a lot, but she was in a dangerous situation and wanted Damian to be safe. So she dropped him off with us.” You could hear the love in Dick’s voice as he spoke about his family.
“Your family seems happy. Nice. I mean, you all dropped everything to drive me home. I appreciate it.” Danny thought carefully for a moment, he didn't want to learn too much second hand. He'd rather get to know Jason personally. But some things only family can tell you. “Do you think Jason and I will get along? From what I've heard I know we have similar senses of humor, at least relating to our own deaths. And, well, we have that experience to bond over. But our lives seem like they've been very different.”
Dick’s face softens. “I think that Jason has spent his whole life fighting. For anything and everything. He's not going to stop now. You guys’ll figure it out.”
Danny looks at him. “Have you met your soulmate?”
Dick’s whole face lights up. “I have. We knew each other before the switch, but.. it was still a lot of drama and awkwardness at first. I think Bruce almost had a heart attack when it happened, and then an aneurysm when he found out who it was. That was hilarious.”
Dick glances at Danny, saw him biting his lip and twisting his hands together, eyes in his lap. “We had met, but we still had a lot to learn about each other. Getting to know him has been one of the best parts of my life. He’s my best friend.”
Dick reaches over and ruffles Danny’s hair. “Why don't you try to sleep Danny. You'll be meeting him soon.”
Danny nodded, giving Dick a light smile and settling himself into his chair.
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fluentmoviequoter · 9 months ago
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I Don't Want Easy
This is a combination of an idea I had and this request!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader
Summary: When Tim leaves in the middle of the night, you don't know what happened. After you find out you're pregnant a few weeks later, you must decide whether you want to wait for the man who abandoned you or move on.
Warnings: angst, pregnancy (r is pregnant), discussions of divorce, brief mention of fainting and hospitals, mention of cheating, there is a fluffy ending with comfort I promise
Word Count: 2.0k+ words
A/N: I feel like this could have been better and longer, so I may continue it later!
Picture from Pinterest
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
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You’re used to being alone when you wake up. Today, though, feels different. The house is silent and there’s no sign of Tim.
Four hours before, Tim moved silently through the shadows of your home to gather his things. His Metro captain texted him an urgent SOS, a signal to go undercover. You know that Tim has been undercover before, but the current case requires a certain disconnection. Tim can’t tell anyone, not even you, his wife, that he is leaving or where he is going. Uttering a single word would jeopardize numerous lives, and despite Tim’s guilt about leaving you, the lingering idea of being the reason for the death of his fellow officers convinces him to stay quiet. Tim kisses your forehead and whispers an apology before he slips out, unsure when, or if, he will see you again.
As you walk through the house later, you notice some of Tim’s essential belongings are gone. There’s no note, no messages, and you feel a deepening sense of dread. Tim has been stressed lately, and you know that he can struggle to deal with his emotions. When you see that Tim’s go bag is gone, you know somehow that Tim is gone, and not just for the day. The sunrise illuminates your home and the absence of your husband… perhaps your new normal.
✯✯✯✯✯
Six weeks later, you’re pacing in your kitchen as Angela ends a phone call.
“Nothing,” she sighs. “No one in the division has heard from him since, uh, since he left you,” she tells you.
“I’m scared,” you admit quietly.
“Hey, no matter what happens, you’re not alone, okay?”
Angela pulls you close before hugging you. The timer on your phone chimes a moment later, and Angela nods before leading you back to the bathroom. A pregnancy test lies in wait, and you clutch Angela’s hand in one of yours as you flip it over.
“It’s positive,” you whisper.
“And?” Angela asks.
“I’m really happy, I think. But I also don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t keep waiting for him, Angela.” “He may not be gone, not from you,” Angela soothes. “He’s disappeared suddenly before.”
“For a day, Angela! It’s been a month and a half. Tim isn’t coming back.”
“Then what do you want to do?”
You chew your bottom lip before asking, “Does Wesley know any good divorce lawyers?”
✯✯✯✯✯
Within a week, you have the papers to file for divorce on grounds of abandonment. Your lawyer is confident that if Tim can’t be found by the LAPD, he won’t contest the divorce. You, however, can’t seem to find the courage to sign the papers and return them. After another sleepless night worrying about Tim and what you’ll do without him, you call your lawyer and tell her you’ve changed your mind.
“Keep the papers, okay?” she says. “And if you change your mind and want to file them later, give me a call.”
✯✯✯✯✯
Four months later, your stomach is proudly showing your baby bump. The divorce papers are still sitting on your table, and you look at them every time you walk past them. Rubbing your hand over your growing bump, you wonder what happened to push Tim away so thoroughly and so suddenly. With your due date growing closer and your future on the line, you know that you need to file the papers, but you can’t.
Across town, Tim and three other Metro officers stumble into the station. They’ve been working nonstop, living in violent environments, and moving around so frequently that they often didn’t know where they were when they tried to sleep.
“There’s one more house to purge,” their captain says. “If we can hit it today, you can all go home and sleep easy.”
Tim sighs before leaving the station yet again. The case is closed by the end of the day, but Tim doesn’t know if he should or can go home. You’ve been alone for so long; Tim doesn’t even know if you are still his wife.
After checking into a nearby hotel, Tim gets comfortable for the first time in too long, but his thoughts keep drifting to you and the emptiness beside him.
You wake with a start as glass shatters. The sun is rising, and you rush into your closet to call 911. They promise that an officer is nearby and will arrive to help you soon. With your hands clutched protectively over your stomach, you wait for the familiar sound of sirens. Angela will insist that you stay with her until your house is secure once again. Your thoughts are ripped from Angela and her protectiveness as someone walks into your bedroom.
“LAPD!” an officer yells from the front door.
The man in your room rushes back out, and you hear the following commotion as he’s placed under arrest. Standing shakily, you try to calm down before you exit the closet.
“Bradford,” an officer says when he sees you.
Tim turns, and his shoulders drop, like he’s never been more relieved. When his eyes drop to your bump, however, the tension returns, and his eyes widen. You watch his fast-changing reaction, and when it meets your fear from the break-in and the stress of being pregnant alone, you feel like you may faint. As you extend an arm toward the wall to steady yourself, one of the other officers moves toward you and yells for the paramedics. When they enter, and push Tim back, he can’t look away from you and the small crowd separating him from you. Your hand isn’t visible from his position, but he looks down at his wedding ring and wonders if you still have one on, too.
“How far along are you?” a kind EMT asks.
“Uh, 17 weeks,” you answer.
Tim calculates quickly and realizes that you got pregnant just before he left. Or after. Because you are safe, though you agree to go to the hospital to get checked out, Tim leaves before you do to return to the station. He won’t admit that your reaction to seeing him again drove him away, not to anyone at the station. Your reaction causes him to think that you don’t want him around, and don’t need him, so Tim will stay gone.
“Tim!” Angela calls when he returns.
“Hey, Lopez. I need your help,” he replies.
“I heard the call over the radio. How much do you know?”
“More than I’m supposed to, I’m sure.”
“What are you going to do about it?” “Move out. Permanently.”
“What? Timothy, are you out of your mind? She needs you! She’s been miserable the past four months!” “Because of me! I made her miserable because I didn’t think I had another choice, and I won’t do it again. I have a choice now.”
“Tim, you have to go home and talk to her.”
“She has other people now, Angela.”
Angela stops quickly, and the look in Tim’s eyes saddens her.
“You don’t think you’re the father?”
“It’s been a long time since I left,” Tim says softly.
“She wouldn’t cheat on you.”
“I know that. But if she knew that I left her, and left me, too…”
“Go home and talk to her,” Angela demands. She knows the truth and knows that Tim needs to hear it. “Trust me for once.”
When you get back from the hospital, everything is a blur. You’re upset because someone broke into your house, emotional because of the pregnancy hormones, and confused about why Tim was here, acting like an ordinary patrol cop after disappearing for months. Everything hurts, inside and out, yet you don’t know how to deal with it without Tim.
Someone knocks on the door, and you assume one of your neighbors saw the police car drop you off and wants to check on you. You are incredibly wrong; you realize when you open the door and see Tim. He freezes with his hand poised to knock again.
The sight of you causes Tim to panic. He suddenly can’t find the words to say, because none of them seem good enough to explain himself and make you see that he still loves you. His sudden silence reads as disinterest, and his lack of comfort causes your emotional, stressed, confused body to react poorly. Your stomach flips and you leave the door open as you rush inside. Tim watches your face change before you run inside, and he doesn’t hesitate to follow after you.
Tim enters the bathroom beside you and gathers your hair in one of his hands as the other presses against your spine.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I got you. I’m not leaving this time.”
Your breaths grow shallow, and Tim pulls you close until you have both calmed down. Once your breaths begin to match his, Tim moves to see your face, and you ask him to take you to the kitchen for water. He agrees and keeps both hands on you as he helps you stand and leads you through your once-shared house. As you prepare a glass of ice water, Tim notices the papers on your table. He reads the names at the top and hates himself for waiting so long to try to talk to you; he should have come straight home and shown you what you mean to him.
“Do you- do you want me to sign these?” Tim asks as he raises the petition.
When you see him holding divorce papers, and offering to sign them because he thinks that you want him to, tears blur your eyes, and your water falls to the floor. Ice cubes and water spill across the kitchen floor, and you sink to your knees in the puddle to gather the broken pieces. It’s symbolic, and your tears multiply as you realize that your life is similarly spilled and broken.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim calls as he enters. “Don’t.”
He lowers his hands to help you up, but you don’t move. Tim sits in the water beside you and waits for you to come to him. The moment your head hits his chest, your tears slow. Months without Tim didn’t change anything, you realize; nothing important, because he can still comfort you with a touch and cares about you and your safety.
“What are you doing here?” you ask against his shirt.
Tim sighs before telling you about the case. He doesn’t leave anything out, because you deserve the truth, but he doesn’t complain when you cling to him during his account of the most dangerous moments. He came home, and that’s what matters now, but you have something to explain to him, too.
“I didn’t sign the papers,” you admit. “Couldn’t. When I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t want to do it alone, but I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone but you. Tim, you could’ve come home the moment you returned.”
“No one would have blamed you for leaving. Anticipating it was better than being blindsided by it.”
“So, what now?” you ask.
Tim kisses your cheek, and you turn to look at him before giving him a proper welcome-home kiss.
“Now,” he says against your lips. He pulls back and continues, “Now, we start where we left off, and I do what I should have done four months ago.”
“What’s that?”
“Not leave. You, both of you, are never going to be alone again. I promise.”
You nod and move your hands over his shoulders to pull yourself closer. Your bump gets in the way, and Tim chuckles before murmuring that he’ll have to get used to that.
“Let’s go,” Tim says before lifting you from the wet floor. “Lopez is probably calling you.”
“Tim. This won’t be easy,” you say. “We both missed a lot.”
“I don’t want easy. I want to be married to you and learn to do it all together, no matter how long that takes. Anything you want, it’s done. You want room, say the word.”
“I don’t want room now.”
“Then let’s go catch up. Want me to order food?”
“That or cook in a wet kitchen.”
“What do you and the baby here want?”
“Daughter,” you interject. Tim hums in question and you smile before explaining, “We’re having a girl.”
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lazycats-stuff · 1 year ago
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Hi, this is my first time asking here I really love your work and also the whole reason me going into the DC fandom really... Anyway, back to my request can you do like a fluffy interaction with the batfamily when child (male or gn) reader told them that they had a "boyfriend" at school.
Not entirely sure if this is really you're cup of tea and if not you can ignore it.
:D
Oh this is my cup of tea, don't worry. And I got you into DC fandom? I hope you like the fandom so far.
Summary: (Y/N) is slowly growing up. Bruce and the others can't handle it.
Warnings: fluff, Bruce and everyone is emotional, just pure fluff everyone, Titus makes an appearance
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The family has been going through a rather tough time recently. (Y/N) has started going to kindergarten and they couldn't see him for almost the entire day. Bruce knew it was important that (Y/N) starts socializing with children his age.
Bruce knew that is was important for (Y/N) to do it and he needs to get over all the child sicknesses. Such as chicken pox and some others. It would build his immunity system and make him stronger. And it was difficult the first day.
Everyone was emotional that first day. All of them barley kept it together as they walked (Y/N) to the kindergarten, more so to the place where he would be spending time until he needs to go to elementary school.
(Y/N) was nervous at first, but Bruce assured him how they would be back to get him back. The brothers all said goodbye and nearly broke down when (Y/N) left and everyone, including Alfred broke down in the car.
" He is growing up so quickly. " Jason said as he was wiping his eyes, trying not to cry fully.
" I know. " Dick said, not even keeping his cool anymore. Bruce and Damian didn't cry, but they were definitely sad about the fact that they couldn't see their brother anyone. Tim was just quiet as he sniffed quietly and Alfred simply looked ahead, outright refusing to cry.
Everyone went on with their days and once they were done with work or school, they would pick up (Y/N). (Y/N) was happy to his family once more and he just wanted a hug from his dad.
And he wanted to be carried by his dad. It was their tradition after all. Soon, Bruce had to update the list of people who could pick him up and included everyone in the family, besides Damian. The kindergarten policy made it clear that you needed to present ID every time you want to pick him up.
Bruce had to admit, he was impressed with the sheer security of the kindergarten and the way that they made sure that nobody unauthorized or somebody who had more sinister motives could get in. Thankfully.
(Y/N) has been going for a few months and he liked it very much. He has made a few friends and Bruce couldn't be happier. (Y/N)'s brother's were happy too. (Y/N) was happy, liked going there and had fun.
What more could they ask for? Nothing more.
As long as their brother is happy, so are they.
It was all going to be fine.
Well, that fine turned into pure confusion when (Y/N) was home. It was a Saturday. (Y/N) and the family was having a family night and (Y/N) was watching a movie in his father's lap, enjoying the contact from his father. Bruce covered his son in a blanket, making sure it was warm. It has started snowing a few hours ago and it was perfect.
More importantly, it was peaceful.
Until (Y/N) started to speak.
It was all fine.
" I forgot to tell you something! " (Y/N) declared as he sat up upright. Bruce glanced at (Y/N) and hummed at him, showing him that he had his attention.
" I have a boyfriend! "
Those four words made Bruce's head spin and he swears he hears that he has heard something crash in the kitchen. Jason spat out his water, coughing the rest of it out. Dick wept and Damian froze. Tim blinked a few times.
What the hell?!
" I'm sorry, what do you mean by that? " Bruce asked as he got some of his composure back. (Y/N) smiled widely and Bruce had to make sure he didn't fall down.
" I have a boyfriend! We hold hands and do everything together! " (Y/N) said loudly and Dick wept louder. Jason took a deep breath and Damian blinked a few times. Tim just drank his coffee. Nope. He is too pumped with caffeine to even think about it.
" What's wrong with Dick? " (Y/N) asked, looking at his brother who was weeping. Jason gave Dick a hug and Dick was mumbling the words so quickly and grow up. In not really particular order actually.
" Nothing (Y/N), you know how he gets emotional. " Bruce explained and (Y/N) let out a little huh. Bruce wanted to cry really, but he couldn't. His son was growing up too soon, but growing up is normal.
It's going to happen eventually.
Sooner rather than later.
" Come here. " Dick said as he wiped his eyes. He stood up and took (Y/N) into his arms, hugging him. His brother can't grow up. No. It's completely wrong and not- No.
(Y/N) can't grow up. No.
(Y/N) was confused as to why Dick would cry. Why? Is he sad? Why would be sad?
" Why are you said Dick? " (Y/N) asked and Dick finally found it in himself to chuckle. He gave (Y/N) a kiss on the cheek.
" I'm not sad baby bird. "
" Then why are you crying? When you are sad, you cry. " (Y/N) stated and Dick shook his head fondly.
" Sometimes, when you are so happy, you are so overwhelmed with happiness that you just start crying. " Dick explained and (Y/N) let out a little oh, leaning his head on Dick's shoulder.
Dick sighed as he sat down on the couch and Alfred finally made his way into the the living room.
" Master Bruce, did I hear correctly? Master (Y/N) has a boyfriend? " Alfred asked, clearly not wanting to believe it. His youngest grandson has a boyfriend?
" Yes, (Y/N) has a boyfriend. " Bruce confirmed and Alfred sighed quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose. His grandson will send him to his grave. Early grave, mind you.
Jason sighed as he wanted Dick to hand (Y/N) over to him. His brother can't have a boyfriend now. He is a baby in his eyes and he can't have a boyfriend or a girlfriend for that matter until he is about 30.
That is a reasonable age to have a boyfriend. Right?
" Should I open up the scotch? " Alfred asked and Bruce smiled at the suggestion.
" Later Alfred. "
" As you wish master Bruce. "
" Dad? " (Y/N) asked from Jason's arms and Bruce felt something warm in his heart.
" Yes? "
" Can we go out to play in the snow? Pretty please. " (Y/N) asked and Bruce nodded in agreement.
" Of course we can. But you need to make sure that you are warm. You can't get a cold can you? " Bruce said as he picked (Y/N) up from Jason and (Y/N) let out a little hurray.
" He is too pure for this world. " Damian said once (Y/N) and Bruce left the room to bundle up. and there was something that everyone could agree on. Even Jason and Damian could agree on that phrase.
Titus wagged his tail as he whined for Damian to open the door to the garden. Damian did so and Titus started playing in the snow. It was weird to see such a black mass in the white snow.
Titus almost looked like a demon and then that image was gone when (Y/N) ran over to Titus. Titus was very happy, tail wagging like mad, but still remained calm and gentle with his little brother. Bruce watched as (Y/N) ran around, making angels and throwing snowballs at Bruce.
Titus would also run for snowballs that the two would make, considering that they couldn't find his tennis balls to throw. He was confused at the way the would disappear, but still came back for more.
" Maybe we have overreacted. " Dick said and everyone agreed in a certain way. (Y/N) is a child and he probably doesn't know the meaning of the word. But they know that sooner or later they will have an actual boyfriend on their hands.
Hopefully that will never happen. Hopefully.
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lacyscabinet · 3 months ago
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im so sick of the pure smut too,,, you should do a fall vibe fic where theyre both cold and trying to warm each other up or something
A/N: I feel you anon, I mean, I'm okay with smut I just don't read it because of personal preference😭😭 BUT IT'S LITERALLY ALL I SEE UNDER THE ELLIE TAG. Anyway, I love this request THANK YOUUU<333 also I'm veeeeeery new to the tlou fandom on tumblr so let me know if ya'll like my writing and PLEASE let me know how I can improve, feedback even if negative is always appreciated over here!!! I wish all of you an amazing day/evening/whatever time it is in the timezone you're in!!!🤍🤍🤍
Absolutely not proofread!!!
NAVIGATION
PICTURES TAKEN FROM PINTEREST!!! CREDITS TO THE OWNERS!!!
Free radiator
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The wind howled outside as you made your way to Ellie’s garage, the icy air biting the skin of your cheeks. You wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, shivering as you pushed open the heavy door. Inside, the dim light from the lamp Joel had put in the room illuminated a bunch of scattered items and clothes thrown on the floor. Let's just say that Ellie wasn't exactly the best at keeping her room tidy.
“Hey, you made it!” Ellie’s voice broke through the silence, warm and inviting, bold contrast to the chill that still reigned in the garage.
She was sitting on her old couch with a steaming mug in her hands. Her hair was tousled, and her cheeks were slightly flushed from the cold.
“Barely!" You chuckled, rubbing your hands together for warmth "It’s freezing out there, my fingers were about to fall off.”
Ellie laughed “Come here, I’ve got hot tea. It’ll warm you up.” She patted the space next to her, and you felt a rush of happiness as you moved closer.
You took the mug from her, savoring the rich . As you sipped, the warmth spread through you, melting away the cold as you quietly thanked her with a kiss on the cheek.
After finishing your drink, you looked around the garage, and a shiver ran through your body. “What should we do to warm this place up?"
“Blankets!” she declared, getting up from her seat. She rummaged through a nearby drawer, finally pulling out a colorful quilt that looked like it had seen better days.
You couldn’t help but laugh when she wrapped the fabric around you two, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth. “This is much better,” you said, snuggling closer to her side.
Ellie grinned, her eyes shining. “See? Who needs a fancy heater when you’ve got blankets..." she paused for a second and then looked up at you "...and me?”
“True, you're my personal radiator ” you teased, leaning your head against her shoulder.
You just relaxed in her warmth, closing your eyes and smiling when Ellie's hand reached behind you to rub your back.
But at one point, Ellie reached into her pocket "I was almost forgetting" she said while revealing a small silver bracelet "I saw this on patrol, it made me think of you” she said, her cheeks a shade of pink.
Your heart fluttered as you took the bracelet, adorned with a couple of little plant shaped charms “Ellie, this is beautiful!” you exclaimed, slipping it onto your wrist.
Suddenly, she stiffed a laugh.
"What?" You asked confused
"The plants charms remind of when we climbed on that stupid tree last summer" she said, her voice softening.
You both laughed, the memory of the reckless climb still fresh in your mind. “And you fell down on Joel's flowerbed” you added, grinning.
“Okay, okay! Enough about that!” she said, playfully shoving you.
After that, you weren't exactly sure of how the situation evolved but a wrestling match soon started between the two of you, trying to claim more of the quilt. You squealed, both of you laughing as you tangled together in the blanket, your hearts racing.
Eventually, you both collapsed back against the plush couch, breathless and smiling. The cold seemed more bearable now.
After a few moments of quiet, you turned to Ellie, your voice soft. “I’m really glad we have this time together" you whispered, thinking of all the time she had to leave early for patrol only to come back home late, and of course, exhausted. Not leaving much time for the two of you.
"You make everything feel right.”
Ellie’s eyes twinkled as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
She just smiled.
As you shared that quiet moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you.
With a content sigh, you leaned into her, giving her a kiss, letting the warmth of her presence envelop you as the wind made the leaves dance outside the window. And right there, in that old and cold garage, you knew you were exactly where you belonged.
A/n: this was so much fun 😭 let me know what you guys think 🤍🤍🤍🤍 MUAH
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cherrrydragon · 6 months ago
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➤ you need to be yourself (love someone for loving you instead of someone really cool)
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← back to main masterlist
read it on ao3
SUMMARY ↳ Tim Drake and you, throughout the years. Growing up changes things, after all. You've always valued your independence, your ability to navigate life on your own terms. Yet, beneath that independence lies a yearning—for connection, for understanding. There’s a realization settling in—a realization that friendships, like all relationships, evolve and change as you get older. You've grown alongside Tim, but perhaps you've also outgrown some aspects of your dynamic. You’ve noticed the way his muscles flex when he stretches, the way his arms have gotten bigger and you’ve seen a glimpse of his toned stomach. He’s grown up, as seen by his body. But growing up doesn’t just change your body. It also changes your mind. pairing: tim drake x fem!reader warnings: reader gets grazed with a bullet, but i think thats it (other than the angst, that is) tags/notes: unrequited love but not actually unrequited love, hurt/comfort, angst w/ a happy ending, friends to lovers, this fic was inspired by Best Friend by Rex Orange County. wc: 6.9k
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You first met Tim Drake at a gala.
Your parents had promised you ice cream if you behaved well. You didn’t want to go in the first place, but the promise of a sweet treat was too tempting for your little eight-year-old mind.
Dressed in your best clothes, you arrived at the grand event, feeling overwhelmed by the opulence and the throngs of well-dressed adults. You stuck close to your parents, clutching your mother’s hand tightly as you navigated the sea of guests.
While your parents mingled with other attendees, you found yourself near the dessert table, eyes wide with anticipation. Your father said not to try anything without permission, but he didn’t say from who. Now, you have to figure out who to ask and how to ask them. Words never came easily to you.
There’s a boy coming up to you. Maybe you can ask him. Maybe not, he looks like he’s your age. An adult would know better.
“Hi, I’m Tim,” he said, offering you a smile that seemed a little too mature for his age.
You introduced yourself shyly, still focused on the food. Tim seemed to sense your discomfort in the unfamiliar environment.
“Do you want to go somewhere less boring?” he asked, glancing around to ensure no adults were watching.
Nodding eagerly, you followed Tim through the maze of guests until you reached a quiet corner of the gala hall. There, hidden from the prying eyes of the adults, Tim produced a small bag of chocolates from his pockets.
“All the chocolates have weird stuff in them. These just have chocolate,” he explains, handing one to you.
You nibble on it gratefully, taking a seat with him on a nearby bench. The two of you chatted about school, favorite toys, and the best flavors of ice cream. Kid stuff, you know how it is. Tim tells you about his parents' business, about why their work is important and that they’d appreciate your parents’ support.
“You should tell your mom and dad about my mom and dads work,” he insists. To be honest, you weren’t paying all that much attention to what he had been saying, but you’ll tell your parents about it since he asked.
Your mom shakes her head when you tell her, muttering under her breath, “They’re making their son network?” You didn't quite understand what your mother meant at the time. You only remember wanting to share ice cream with him.
From that day on, your paths crossed frequently at various events. Tim quickly became one of your closest friends, someone who understood your quiet nature and often helped you navigate social situations. You find out you’ll attend the same school, which makes you happy.
You’ve never been one for friendships. You simply just prefer being alone, often labeled as ‘mysterious’ by your peers. But Tim has dutifully kept the title of your best friend for years now.
The thing is, you’re not sure you're his best friend.
Tim Drake has his friends, and all you have is him. There’s the pretty blonde, named Stephanie, the other pretty blonde, Cassie. The lively one named Bart, and the cool one named Conner. Sometimes Tim invites you to hang out with them, but you’re not stupid. You know there’s a disconnect between you and them. You feel like you're constantly missing something when you’re around them.
You stop hanging out with them, and eventually Tim stops asking. He must’ve noticed, though, since he starts coming over to your place every Friday for movie night.
At first, it’s a bit awkward. Tim brings over some of your favorite movies, trying to rekindle that old spark of friendship. You sit side by side on the couch, munching on popcorn and watching the screen, occasionally sharing a laugh or a comment.
As the weeks go by, you start to relax into this new routine. Tim is patient, never pushing you to talk more than you’re comfortable with. Sometimes, in the quiet moments between movies, he asks about your day, your thoughts, your dreams.
One Friday evening, after a particularly intense movie, Tim turns to you with a serious expression.
"I miss hanging out with you, you know," he admits quietly. "I know things have changed between us, but I still value our friendship a lot." He scratches the back of his neck. “I know I’ve been busy lately, but a lot of things have happened. Out of my control.”
You glance at him, feeling a mix of emotions. Part of you wants to explain why you pulled away, but another part just wants to enjoy this moment of peace with Tim. You nod slightly, not quite sure what to say.
Tim smiles softly, reaching over to squeeze your shoulder gently. "Thanks for letting me come over every week. It means a lot to me."
And just like that, the tension eases between you. You realize that maybe friendship doesn’t always have to fit into a predefined mold. Tim understands you in a way that no one else does, and you’re grateful for his presence in your life.
You try-out for the volleyball team. You make it.
It becomes a staple in your life. Your afternoons are filled with shoes squeaking on the gym floors and sore muscles. The practices, the games, the friendship with your teammates—it all starts to feel like a natural extension of who you are.
The friendship with your teammates.
They form a group chat, adding you in it of course. It stops being used only for practice announcements and starts being used as ‘life’ updates from your teammates. They gossip about who they like, who they dislike, their boy troubles. You don’t say much, but when they ask you for your opinion, you give it. Apparently, you give really good advice.
You’re sixteen when you realize you’re in love with Tim Drake.
You’re not sure how long exactly, but you know that you’ve craved his presence since you’ve met him.
Tim introduces you to his boyfriend, Bernard. He’s blond. You think Tim might have a thing for blondes.
You tell Tim this later, when Bernard leaves. He only shrugs.
You wonder why you didn’t realize when Tim dated Stephanie. Probably because they dated when you and Tim were estranged. Maybe the reason you two became so was because they dated. You don’t know.
You've always known Tim as your best friend, the person who understands you better than anyone else. But realizing you're in love with him changes everything. It's a mix of emotions—joy, fear, uncertainty. You start noticing things about Tim that you hadn't before—the way he smiles, the way he talks about his interests with such passion, the way he looks at you sometimes when he thinks you're not paying attention.
That last thing might be delusion on your part.
But Tim has Bernard now, and you respect that. You value your friendship with Tim too much to jeopardize it with your feelings. So, you bury your emotions deep down and try to focus on being the best friend you can be.
“What about you, [Name]?” asks Mina, libero of your team. Mina is notorious among your friends as the one with the most boy problems. You’d never say this out loud, but you think she doesn’t know that you don’t always need to be in a relationship.
“Any boy troubles?”
Your shoelaces can’t get tied fast enough. “No.” Because there’s not. Tim has his own boyfriend. There’s no you and him, apart from being you being his friend and him being your best friend.
Lilly, setter, gives you a playful nudge, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Come on, spill! There's gotta be someone you're crushing on."
You chuckle nervously, shaking your head. "Really, there's no one."
Your teammates exchange knowing glances, clearly not convinced. You've always been more reserved about your personal life compared to them. They respect your privacy, but sometimes they can't help but tease. You’ve come to realize that it’s just a friend thing.
Senior year is a calm year.
Most people describe it as the most stressful yet chill year of them all. Stressful, because after this life is going to be serious and suddenly you’re swamped with creating a resume and applying to colleges. Chill, because you can simply just not do all that, and barely show up at all.
Your parents want you to go to college, but assure you that if you don’t want to, you’ll always have a place at their company. Nepotism is a beautiful thing.
You think less of Tim and think more of making this volleyball season the best it can be. It’s your senior year after all, when better to go all out? You become the reason your team wins their games. The star ace. 
During the final game of the season, Tim meets you out back, just before you have to go out on the court. He's holding a bouquet of flowers—violets and peonies. His smile is nervous, uncertain, but there's a warmth in his eyes that you've come to recognize as affection.
"Hey," he starts, handing you the bouquet. "I know this might be a weird time, but there's something I've been wanting to tell you."
Your heart skips a beat as you take the flowers, your mind racing with possibilities. Could this be...?
"I've been thinking a lot lately," Tim continues, his words coming out in a rush now. "About us, about our friendship. I realize I've been a bit... oblivious, maybe. And I just wanted to say that I really appreciate you, [Name]. More than anyone else in my life."
You feel a mix of emotions—hope, confusion, and a twinge of disappointment. You try to keep your expression neutral, not wanting to betray your feelings. You’re not sure what you were thinking. You should’ve known better.
You tentatively reach out to take the bouquet. It’s pretty. “You should’ve probably saved them for after the game.” It’s meant to be a joke, but you’ve never been too good at making those.
Tim chuckles softly, his nervousness easing a bit at your attempt at humor. "Maybe. I wanted to give them to you now.”
The bouquet feels heavy in your hands, the flowers vibrant and fragrant against your fingers. “Thank you.”
You play with all your might. Sweat beads at your temple as you leap in the air. It feels like flying. You play with a fierce determination, channeling your emotions into each move, each serve, and each spike.
You spot Tim in the crowd as you’re in the air. He's watching you intently, his eyes filled with pride and admiration. The game seems to blur around you as you lock eyes with him. You almost miss the winning point.
You're surrounded by your teammates, celebrating the victory, but your eyes search for Tim. He's waiting for you at the edge of the court, a proud smile on his face.
As you approach him, still breathless from the game, he envelops you in a hug. "You were amazing out there," he says sincerely, his voice filled with admiration.
"Thanks," you manage to reply, feeling a rush of emotions—pride, happiness, and a lingering uncertainty.
“I like seeing you do things you love.” He should stop saying things like that.
Tim wants to take you out to dinner to celebrate. You initially decline, and he looks a little confused by that.
“My coach said she’d take us out to eat if we won,” you explain.
“Oh,” he says.
“Don’t worry about what Coach said, [Name],” says Anne, captain, laying a firm hand on your shoulder. “Go spend time with your boyfriend. I’ll ask her to reschedule.”
“Tim’s not my–”
“That’s okay,” smiles Tim. It’s his showman smile. “I don’t want to keep [Name] from spending time with you.” He doesn’t deny that he’s your boyfriend. Why doesn’t he deny that he’s your boyfriend?
Anne grins, fierce and sharp. “Take her out to dinner.” And that’s that.
Tim keeps a friendly hand on your back as he guides you out. “Let's go to that place we talked about last week," he suggests, his voice almost as sweet as the victory that's just come to pass. "I promise it'll be worth it."
You're filled with a mix of emotions as you walk alongside Tim, still processing everything that's happened. The restaurant is cozy, with dim lighting and soft music playing in the background. Tim seems relaxed, chatting about the game, your performance, anything really. Tim’s always had a way of capturing your attention.
“Bernard and I broke up.” You almost don’t register the info, too focused on watching his face.
You furrow your brows. “What did you do?”
“Why do you assume I did something?” he asks dryly.
“Have you met you?”
“Nothing happened.” He rolls his eyes. “It just didn’t work out.”
“Oh,” you reply softly, unsure how to respond to Tim’s revelation. You hadn’t expected he would talk about his relationship status, and would’ve preferred if he hadn’t.  Tim continues to look at you, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you’re not sure what to say. 
The atmosphere between you feels a bit heavier now, the weight of unspoken feelings lingering in the air. You've always valued your friendship with Tim above anything else, and while part of you feels a pang of sympathy for his breakup, another part wonders what it means for your relationship with him.
By the time dinner ends and you're walking back together, the tension that had briefly surfaced seems to have dissipated. Tim is back to his usual self, cracking jokes and teasing you playfully about your volleyball skills. You find yourself smiling, grateful for the comfort and familiarity of your friendship.
As you part ways for the night, Tim gives you a warm hug, holding onto you for just a moment longer than usual. "Thanks for tonight," he says sincerely, his voice quiet.
"Anytime," you reply softly, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "I'm glad we could hang out."
Tim nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally heads off. You watch him go, your mind swirling with thoughts and emotions that you're not quite ready to unpack yet.
In the days that follow, you notice subtle changes in your interactions with Tim. He is pulling you closer to him. He has taken you to more private places just to hang out. He seems more attentive, more considerate of your feelings and preferences. He makes an effort to spend more time with you, whether it's grabbing lunch together between classes or inviting you over for movie nights more frequently. 
You feel a flutter of hope in your chest with each of these gestures, but you push it down. You know better.
Tim stops going to school for a while, and it feels like you're back to square one. Back to when he found better ways to spend his time, with others who are not you.
You meet a boy. He’s nice and he’s cute. You like him well enough, and he seems to genuinely enjoy your company. Your friends say that you guys are cute together.
He asks you on a date to a local cafe, and you agree. It's a pleasant afternoon, filled with easy conversation and laughter. He listens intently as you talk about your interests, your dreams for the future, and he shares his own aspirations with you. It feels comfortable, uncomplicated.
Comfortable and uncomplicated never last long for you.
“This is a goddamn robbery!”
Two warning shots go off, and people scramble out of their seats to cover. What kind of asshole robs a cafe? You hide under the table, mind scrambled by the sudden change of events. Your hands scramble to grab on to your date, for comfort or for reassurance you don’t know, but you don’t feel anything.
You see your date round the booth and run out of the door. He left you.
You’re left alone and bewildered, shaken by the sudden chaos. Your heart races, adrenaline pumping as you try to make sense of what just happened. Fucking asshole , he just left you!
“Put the gun down, sir.”
There’s someone in the doorway. You peek out from under the table, heart still racing, and see him—Red Robin. He’s a figure of black and red. His presence commands and reassures.
The robber hesitates, gun wavering slightly as he eyes Red Robin warily. It’s a stand-off, tense and uncertain.
“I said put the gun down,” Red Robin repeats calmly, stepping forward with measured confidence.
The robber takes slow steps to the side, gun pointed at the vigilante. Every step taken to get closer has the robber threatening to shoot. “Easy, just put it down and we can talk,” Red Robin continues, his voice steady and calm. The tension in the cafe is strong, everyone holding their breath as they watch the standoff unfold.
The robber’s hand shakes as he weighs his options, eyes darting between Red Robin and the patrons cowering behind tables. His legs carry him closer and closer. He’s.
He’s getting closer to you.
You try to move further under the table, but the robber lunges down and grabs your arm, twisting his and pulling you up. You yelp as there’s suddenly something cold pressed to your head.
“I’ll blast her brains out.”
"Let her go.” Red Robin's voice is suddenly deep and menacing.
The robber hesitates, glancing between you and Red Robin. He tightens his grip on your arm, causing you to wince in pain.
"Let her go now," Red Robin repeats, his tone firm and unwavering. Your breathing starts to pick up.
Suddenly, there's a blur of motion and a loud thud. The robber cries out in pain as he releases you, stumbling back from the force of impact. There’s a loud sound and suddenly there’s a searing pain in your side.
You whimper and stumble to the floor, holding your side. There’s a rush of movement around you as you crawl away. You hear sirens. The police are here. What good they were.
“Hey. Heyheyheyheyhey. It’s okay.” A hand removes yours and replaces it. You look at them. They’re covered in blood. “It’s just a graze. It’s okay.”
Red Robin is at your side muttering reassurances into your ear. You whimper when his hand applies pressure to your wound. He shushes you quietly. “You’re fine.”
Then his voice breaks. “You have to be.”
There’s a heavy thud of boots in your directions. “Red Robin.” It’s Batman, in all this terrifying and dramatic glory. Batman, with a quick glance at you, shifts his attention to the situation at hand. “She needs medical attention.”
Red Robin helps you sit up a little, keeping pressure on your wound while Batman assesses the situation. The cafe is now surrounded by police, and the robber is being apprehended. "Stay with me," Red Robin urges softly, his voice a comforting presence amidst the chaos. "You're going to be okay."
Paramedics arrive shortly after, quickly attending to your wound. Red Robin stays by your side, explaining what happened to the paramedics and keeping you calm. It’s strange, how easily you’re comforted by his presence.
You're taken to the hospital for treatment, where the doctors confirm that your injury is indeed just a graze. Your parents are the first to arrive, appearances rustled. Your mother sheds a tear, even after you tell her that it’s just a graze, that it could’ve been a lot worse. That makes her cry harder.
Your friends arrive next, rushing through the door. You ask how they found out what happened, and they say they were secretly watching your date from across the street. They ridicule your date, having saw how he ran away first thing. You can’t bring yourself to be irked with them.
No one else comes to visit.
You’re allowed to go back to school after a week. Tim is there, waiting by the entrance. He perks up when he sees you. You stop in your tracks as he makes his way over to you.
Tim embraces you in a hug, unexpectedly. You can’t bring your arms up to hug him back. He must notice, because he unwraps from you with a cough.
"...Hey," Tim says softly, his eyes searching yours. "I heard what happened. Are you okay?"
You nod, not being able to bring yourself to say anything. He nods as well. “That’s good.”
“...Are you sure?”
“Tim…” you sigh, finally. He perks up at your voice, looking at you earnestly.
“Do you want to go somewhere? The park? We don’t have to do anything, we can just. Sit. I don’t want you to pull your stitches or anything–”
“You weren’t even there.”
Tim shuts up, staring at you. You don’t look at him, perhaps afraid. You’ve never truly spoken your mind, preferring to simply deal with it and move on. But you… deserve better.
“I waited for you to come visit,” you whisper, looking down at your shoe. “But you never came. Did you even know?”
His hands hover in the air uselessly. “I. Of course I knew–”
“Then why didn’t you visit?” Your brows furrow. “Is that asking too much? For you to just, show up? While I’m sitting in the hospital because I barely missed being shot?”
“I was busy!”
“You’re always busy,” you groan.
Tim's expression tightens with guilt as he listens to your words, his usual composed demeanor faltering. He runs a hand through his hair, looking conflicted. "I know... I know it's not an excuse, but things have been crazy, and I... I should have been there for you. I'm really sorry."
“It’s the same thing everytime.”
“[Name]?”
“You’re not there. You apologize for not being there. I accept, we move on. And then it happens again.”
Tim's shoulders slump slightly, and he takes a moment before responding, his voice quieter now, tinged with regret. "I... I don't want it to be like that. I want to be there for you. I want to... I want to do better. You just… you don’t know what I have going on in my life.”
You glance up at him, meeting his gaze. His sincerity is evident, but so is his struggle with balancing his responsibilities. You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of frustration and a longing for understanding.
“I don’t know because you don’t tell me anything,” you mutter.
He takes a step closer, hesitant but determined to bridge the gap that has formed between you. “I’m sorry, but please. You're… you’re my best friend.”
You shake your head. “You’re my best friend. I’m just… convenient for you.”
Tim's expression softens, hurt flickering across his features before he shakes his head. “No. No, please don’t think that.”
“What else am I supposed to think?”
Tim's eyes search yours, pleading for understanding. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I... I know I've let you down. And I'm sorry for that. You mean more to me than just convenience. I don't always… know how to balance everything.”
His admission hangs in the air, vulnerable and raw. You feel a pang of sympathy mixed with frustration. Tim has always been your closest friend, but for a long time, it's felt like he's slipping away, caught up in his own world.
“Can you just,” you pause, feeling like your entire world just shifted on its axis. “Leave me alone?”
“...How long?” he croaks.
You hesitate, the weight of your words heavy on your chest. "I don't know, Tim. I just. I need some space right now."
He nods slowly, expression twisted with anguish. “Okay,” he says softly. “Whatever you want.”
You wanted him, but that’s not possible.
Tim stands there for a moment, as if searching for something else to say, but ultimately turns away. You watch him go, feeling a mixture of relief and sorrow.
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Days pass, and Tim respects your request for space. The halls of school feel different without his constant presence, a reminder of the void left by his absence. You start spending time on rooftops at night. You find solace in the quiet, away from the complexities of school and relationships. The city lights spread out beneath you, casting a gentle glow on the world below.
You've always valued your independence, your ability to navigate life on your own terms. Yet, beneath that independence lies a yearning—for connection, for understanding.
There’s a realization settling in—a realization that friendships, like all relationships, evolve and change as you get older. You've grown alongside Tim, but perhaps you've also outgrown some aspects of your dynamic. You’ve noticed the way his muscles flex when he stretches, the way his arms have gotten bigger and you’ve seen a glimpse of his toned stomach. He’s grown up, as seen by his body.
But growing up doesn’t just change your body. It also changes your mind.
It changed the way you see Tim. He’s matured into a strong and confident person, and you can’t help but notice the way he holds himself now. He’s more than just your childhood friend—he’s become someone you admire for his determination and resilience. Yet, amidst this newfound admiration, there’s still a part of you that remembers the boy who used to share chocolates with you at galas, who understood your quiet nature and sat by you during movie nights.
You can try to move on. You can hang out with other people, but he’ll always be in the back of your mind. You know you miss him. Every time you see him at school, you feel a pang of longing, mixed with a hint of resentment.
“You shouldn’t be out so late.”
You don’t move your head from where it’s rested on your arms on top of the ledge. Footsteps echo closer, until a figure clad in red maneuvers himself to sit on top of the ledge. Red Robin has decided to pay you a visit. You hope he doesn’t think you’re up to no good.
It’s silent for a moment, only the sound of wind rustling and cars moving able to be heard. The vigilante coughs, fidgeting.
“...You didn’t tell me why you were out so late.”
“You didn’t ask,” you mutter, finger trailing the surface of the ledge. 
“I guess I didn’t,” he chuckles awkwardly. He shifts, the dim glow from the city below casting a subdued light on his features. His suit blends with the shadows, making him seem almost ethereal against the night sky.
“It’s just that,” he pauses, straightening his shoulders once he seems to find his confidence. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out alone so late.”
You raise a brow at him, which makes him falter ever so slightly. “I’m on a rooftop. There’s no one else here.”
“I’m here,” he points out.
“You are,” you agree. “So now that you have me alone, are you gonna do something to me?”
He sputters, waving his hands. “No! No, God no. I promise. I help people, not–” he stops, hearing a sound. It’s your laughter. It’s nothing grand, but it’s genuine. The vigilante relaxes a gentle smile on his face as he takes you in.
“Sorry,” you chuckle, eyes closing. It’s pretty late. You could honestly fall asleep here. Red Robin lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Bad joke.”
“No, no. It was good,” he assures. “You got me good.”
The moment stretches between you, filled with the easy silence of two people who have unknowingly shared many quiet moments together. Red Robin’s presence is both comforting and disconcerting.
A finger gently pokes you, stirring you awake. “Sleep at home, not here.”
You blink a few times, slowly lifting your head from your arms, feeling the cool breeze brush against your cheeks. Red Robin’s face is close, concern etched in his features. You yawn, stretching out your limbs and reluctantly pushing yourself up from the ledge.
“Are you not sleeping well?”
“No more than usual,” He offers a hand to help you stand, and you take it, feeling the strength in his grip. Once on your feet, you dust off your clothes and glance around the rooftop, a part of you reluctant to leave the serene view behind.
“Let me walk you home,” Red Robin offers, his voice gentle but firm.
“Sure.”
As you walk together, the city around you hums with a nocturnal life of its own. The streets are quieter, but not entirely deserted. Red Robin stays close, his presence reassuring. You steal glances at him. Something about him feels familiar. Maybe it’s just because he’s friendly.
When you turn back to thank him once you’re at your front door, he’s gone.
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It becomes a routine, meeting him on that rooftop. Sometimes he doesn’t show, you feel eyes watching you when you’re walking back home. The days blend into nights, and you find yourself looking forward to those moments on the rooftop. The city feels different when you're up high, watching from a vantage point few ever see. It's a perspective that offers clarity, a place where the noise of everyday life fades into the background.
One evening, you arrive on the rooftop to find Red Robin already there, leaning against the ledge, gazing out at the city. He turns when he hears your approach, his expression softening.
“You’re early tonight,” he comments, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Needed some fresh air,” you reply, settling beside him. “And some company.”
He chuckles softly, the sound blending with the distant hum of the city. “Well, you’ve got both now.”
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that speaks volumes without needing words. You find yourself studying him, noticing the way his eyes reflect the city lights, the slight tension in his shoulders that eases the longer you sit together.
“Why do you come here?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence. His tone is curious.
“I like being alone,” is all you say.
He nods thoughtfully. “I get that. Sometimes it’s easier to think when you’re away from everything else.” He looks at you. “Surely you’re not lonely though, right?”
“Lonely?”
“Like…” he hesitates, “you have friends?”
“I do,” you hum, furrowing your brows. “But. I don’t know. The girls on my team are nice, but I don’t really feel all that connected to them.”
“Is there no one you feel connected to?”
“There was somebody, but,” you trail off, looking towards the skyline. “People change. I guess I just can’t keep up.”
Red Robin listens quietly, his gaze thoughtful. "Change can be hard," he agrees softly. "But it's also inevitable. We all grow, evolve... sometimes in different directions."
"Yeah," you murmur, staring out at the city lights. "I guess that's part of growing up."
He whistles slightly. “So, who was that somebody?” You raise a brow at him. “If you’re comfortable sharing, that is!”
“Didn’t take you for a gossip,” you mumble.
Red Robin laughs softly, the sound light and almost musical against the backdrop of the night. “It’s not gossip if I’m just listening.”
You consider his words, your gaze drifting back to the cityscape. “It was my best friend,” you admit quietly. “We grew up together, shared everything. But lately... things have changed. We’ve changed.” You sigh softly. “Sometimes I wonder if I did something wrong, or if it’s just... life.”
“I’m sure you did nothing wrong,” he whispers.
“I was in love with him. I think I still am.”
The admission hangs in the air between you, heavier than any silence that had come before. Red Robin shifts beside you, his posture suddenly more alert, more focused on your words.
"In love?" he repeats softly, as if testing the weight of the phrase.
“I kind of realized it when he introduced me to his then boyfriend. But by the time I understood my feelings, it felt too late. He has friends and big things happening for him, and all I have is him,” you mumble. “But I guess I don’t have him anymore.”
“He let me down so many times and I don’t even have it in me to be angry with him. I just wish he chose me.” You turn to face him.
Red Robin's expression is unreadable beneath his mask, but there's a softness in his eyes that wasn't there before. He listens intently, not interrupting your flow of words, allowing you to spill the feelings that have been bottled up for so long.
Your face turns sad. “But maybe I’m being selfish.”
Red Robin's hand moves slightly, as if he's about to reach out to you, but he stops himself, clenching it into a fist instead. "It's hard," he says gently. "Loving someone who doesn't see you the same way, or who can't be there for you like you need them to be."
You stare at him as he continues, “I know it can’t compare to what you felt, but I’ve been so upset for the longest because I couldn’t share this part of my life with you.” He gestures to himself. “I was angry I couldn’t share with you the crazy things that happen on patrol or rely on you to patch me up if things go bad.”
The fog in your head clears. You look at him in confusion. “What?”
“But I was also so scared of bringing you into this life. I didn’t know if you felt the same and I thought I would just be dragging you into something that wasn’t worth it.”
You blink, staring at Red Robin in shock as the realization dawns on you. The pieces start to fit together—the familiarity, the way he seemed to know you, the concern in his eyes.
“Tim?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.
He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he removes his mask, revealing the face of your childhood friend. Tim’s eyes are filled with vulnerability and a hint of fear, as if he’s terrified of what you might say next.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you for so long. I wanted to protect you, but I ended up hurting you instead.”
Your heart races as you take in his words, the weight of his confession settling over you. The anger, confusion, and longing that have been building up inside you finally find an outlet.
“I thought,” he pauses, finding the words, “if I stayed away, you would be safe. You’d find other people and you wouldn’t need me anymore.” He shakes his head. “But I couldn’t stay away. You weren’t selfish [Name]. I was.”
The night seems to stretch on, the air tense with unspoken words. You look at Tim, still grappling with the shock of his revelation. His vulnerability pierces through the stoic facade you’ve seen him wear as Red Robin. The weight of his confession hangs heavy between you, stirring emotions you’ve kept buried.
You get up and start walking away.
Tim winces and reaches out to you. “[Name]–”
You whirl around. “I told you to leave me alone ,” you snarl. “So you go and play nice with me in your stupid costume? You pity me or something?”
Tim's expression shifts, hurt flashing across his features before he schools it into a mask of determination. "No, it's not pity. I care about you, [Name]. I've always cared." His voice is earnest, pleading almost, as if he's trying to convey the depth of his feelings without fully exposing himself.
You start pacing. “God, everything I told you–”
“I was just worried about you–”
“I trusted you.” you whisper.
He looks up at you, his expression pained. “I know I messed up. I should have been honest with you from the beginning.”
“Yes, you should have,” you snap, the anger rising in you like a tidal wave. “You had no right to decide for me.”
“You’re right, it was wrong.”
“Wrong doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you retort, your voice trembling now with a mix of anger and hurt. “Tim, I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend,” he insists, his voice desperate now, pleading for you to understand. “I’ve always been your friend. I–”
“[Name],” he pleads. “I love you.”
Your heart skips a beat at his words, the intensity of his confession crashing into you like a rogue wave. Tim stands before you, vulnerable and raw, his eyes searching yours for any sign of understanding, of forgiveness.
“That’s why I did the things that I did.” His hand reaches out to gently take yours. “Because I thought I wasn't enough for you, and I know I don’t deserve you, but I still love you.”
His hand, warm and trembling, rests gently over yours. The city lights cast a soft glow on his face, revealing the sincerity in his eyes. Your emotions churn in a tumultuous sea of anger, hurt, and disbelief, struggling to find their place amidst his confession.
For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence is thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Tim's gaze never wavers from yours, a mixture of hope and fear etched into his features.
“You’re such an asshole.”
“I know.”
“I deserve better.”
“I know.”
You sigh deeply, head dropping. “Maybe it’s too late,” you say quietly, your voice wavering. “Maybe we’ve both changed too much.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re so unfair,” you growl, eyes growing wet. “I was trying to move on, and then you just come and do this.”
Tim winces.
You run a hand down your face tiredly. “And I still love you. God. Maybe I hate myself just as much as I hate you.”
“Don’t say that about yourself–”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
You point both fingers at his face. “You. You owe me so much.”
He nods rapidly. “I’m talking months, years of making this up to me,” you say, eyes looking into his. “You’re gonna do anything I ask and tell me anything I want to know.”
“Whatever you want, pretty.”
You raise a brow. He purses his lips. “Sorry. You’re kind of hot right now.”
“I’m always hot.”
“You’re right, I apologize.”
You glance at Tim, your anger softening. Despite everything, his familiar charm still manages to tug at your heartstrings. You let out a resigned sigh, realizing that beneath the hurt and confusion, there's a part of you that still cares deeply for him.
Your hands cup his face. “I’m going to kiss you now. You don’t deserve it, but I want it. And this will be the only one you get for a while.”
Tim’s eyes widen, and he takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what’s about to happen. He places his hands on your waist, tightening when you don’t bat him off.
As you lean in, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Your lips meet his in a kiss that is both fierce and tender, a complex blend of longing and frustration. The contact is electrifying, igniting a myriad of feelings that have been pent up for too long. For a moment, the world around you fades, leaving just the two of you amidst the city lights and the quiet of the rooftop.
Tim responds with a desperateness that contrasts with the tenderness of your kiss. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid you might disappear. The kiss lingers, neither of you rushing to pull away, savoring the connection despite the turmoil that surrounds it.
Tim presses a few fleeting kisses as you pull away. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, not sounding sorry at all. “Who knows when you’ll let me kiss you again.”
“You’re such a loser. Why do I love you.”
His smile goes stupid. He shoves his face into your neck. “You love me.”
You sigh, leaning into his embrace despite yourself. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
The two of you stand on the rooftop, wrapped in each other’s arms, the city sprawled out beneath you. In that moment, amidst the complexities and uncertainties of life, you find a sense of peace—a realization that perhaps, despite the changes and challenges, some things are meant to endure.
“I’ll do right by you,” he vows.
You nod, feeling a bittersweet satisfaction. The process of healing and rebuilding trust will take time, but there’s a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, things can start to mend. You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling the familiar comfort of his presence. “Let’s just take things one step at a time. I don’t want to rush this or force anything.”
Tim wraps his arms around you, his hold gentle but reassuring. “You won’t be. I want this bad. But whatever you want.”
Eventually, and hesitantly, Tim pulls away from you. “It’s late. Please let me take you home.”
He offers his hand, and you take it.
Tim struggles to let go of your hand as you open your front door. You compromise with a kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Tim.”
His face goes red. “Goodnight, [Name],” he replies, his voice carrying a note of hope and promise.
You close the door behind you, feeling a renewed sense of clarity. The complexities of your emotions are still there, but you have a newfound hope that things can be mended. The city outside continues its nocturnal dance, but up on the rooftop, amidst the shared moments and honest confessions, you’ve found a glimmer of possibility. And for now, that’s enough.
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notes: tim only went up to you at that gala because of his parents, but his little 8 year old self saw a cutie and said fuck it we in this for life
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flamingpudding · 2 years ago
Text
Part 6 of Ghost Kid in Gotham
>>Masterpost
<<1 Previous Next
A dead but now revived Son
When Bruce returned home he did not know what he should have expected. Alfred had contacted him a day earlier. Insisting that he needed to finish up the case with the Justice League as soon as possible to return and giving him a rather strange warning.
Apparently there was a new family member Damian had failed to tell them about. The butler did not leave a lot or room for discussion about who or what Damian failed to tell them so Bruce did all he could and made it back before lunch.
Bruce had assumed that his youngest had once again smuggled in an animal that was there to stay but that did not explain the butler's insistence of him coming home as soon as possible. So color him surprised when he stood in the doorframe of the sitting room that became the main hang out room for the family and two of his children were currently holding a screaming match about whether or not the older of the two was part of a cult. Tim was even threatening Jason with some sort of book he had gotten via express mail looking ready to hit his second oldest across the face with it.
"Just admit that you are or were a part of a ghost cult!"
"The fuck you talking about replacement?! I have never been in a ghost cult!"
"Bullshit! The sigels in this book say otherwise!"
"What fucking sigels you asshole!"
"The ones in this book!"
"Wave that any close to my face and I will punch you!"
Looking toward the couch he found his oldest sitting next to his youngest holding out sweets and treats to a child Damian was keeping in his lap in a rather protective hold. The child, a little boy that didn't look older than seven or eight, was wearing an oversized hoodie he recognised as one of Damians. The boy did not appear really happy with his situation as the child kept hissing at his oldest and snapping his teeth. Damian scowled at Dick clearly also not happy with what he assumed were his elder son's attempts at getting the child to not hiss at him.
"Richard, I am warning you."
"Come on little teethling! How about this chocolate? Or do you like baked goods better?"
"Richard."
"Just one pat without biting Dami, please! He is not hissing as much as he did earlier! Should I juggle the cakes?"
"Danyal, how about we leave these idiots?" The child didn't even look up at his youngest but kept hissing at Dick who kept offering small cakes to the child.
He cleared his throat, gaining the attention of his children, just as Damian was about to get up and leave with the boy. It was interesting seeing them blink at him this owlishly whenever he joined them when they least expected his appearance. "Someone wants to explain to me why Damian has a child with him?"
"This child is Danyal." Damian stated, looking down at the boy whose eyes were now focused on him. They were a glowing sky blue and Bruce couldn't help but think that his son might have picked up a little Meta child he wanted to take care of.
He hm-ed stepping into the room and closer to his children. Noting how the child in his son's arms tensed, pupils blown wide. The kid was on high alert. Now that he also took a closer look at the small boy he noticed that he had similarities to Damian, was that the reason the kid seemed to have latched onto his youngest?
"A Meta?" He questioned as he slowly moved towards the clearly tense child. Considering all his sons being around, the child might be a rescue and with the way the little one watched his every move as the newcomer, possibly abused too. He would need the report from his sons to get a better understanding of the boy's circumstances.
"Not exactly…" Tim started and he looked over at his third eldest. He was hesitating with his explanation, why? Was there something else amiss with the child?
"B maybe you should wait and sit down over there. This will be a lot to take in." Dick added his eyes worriedly going to the child that had become strangely quiet and back to him. Bruce only hm-ed again, Dick was good with children but from what he had seen this child wasn't trusting his eldest.
Maybe he should give it a try? So he crouched before Damian and the boy putting on the friendliest face he could muster. If this child was an abused meta case then the boy was surely scared, he could see it clearly now in the boy's eyes. The likelihood that he had probably latched onto his youngest because of their similarities for safety was now even more apparent.
"Hel-" He couldn't even finish his greeting before the child's eyes took on a glowing green color.
"Danyal!"
Suddenly the boy slipped out of Damian's hold and in what looked close to flying flipped over the couch onto his second oldest shoulders, using them as springboard to get onto one of the high shelves of the sitting room. Drawing back into the ceiling corner and making himself as small as possible. The entire time the child's glowing green eyes were on Bruce and his stomach sank at the familiarity of that color. His eyes, only for a split second, went over to Jason who glared at him, placing himself between Bruce and the shelve the boy jumped on.
"Father! What did you do?"
"I was only attempting to greet that child on eye-level so as not to further scare him."
"Yea sure." His second oldest scoffed. "You didn't want to judge if the kid was a dangerous unknown?"
"Jason."
"No Dick. The kid is fine with us, though still hissing and bitey but that was not a normal reaction. If I had to guess, the kid's Pit must have reacted to something with Bruce. The Biter stopped hissing the moment he noticed him. Look at the kids' eyes and tell me that's not true."
His eldest did look conflicted as his eyes went over to the kid on the high shelf silently staring down at them before looking back at him still crouching by the couch where he really had only attempted to greet the small child that had been in Damian's arms.
Standing up Bruce looked straight at his second oldest while still keeping the boy in his field of vision. "The child's Pit?"
Dick sighed covering his eyes with his right hand for a moment before looking back up at him again with determination. "That's why I wanted you to sit down and listen to us first. Danny is showing symptoms of being influenced by Lazarus Water. In addition Tim found that he not only has it in his system and blood but also influencing his DNA."
Bruce couldn't help his as his eyes narrowed at what his eldest son was saying. "The child, Danny you said, is like Jason?"
"Possible worse." Tim replied this time. "The way the Lazarus water influenced his DNA had nearly made it impossible to test it when we tried to see if Danny was a clone. I had to split and isolate it from his DNA to get clear results."
"A clone?"
Tim arched his eyebrow at Bruce judgingly. "You must have noticed how much he looks like Damian. We first thought the child was a Clone but turns out that's not the case. He-"
"Congratulations you have another supposedly dead son Talia revived via Lazarus Pit." Jason cut rudely not once looking away from Bruce as he waited for the man's reaction.
"JASON!"
"Just rip the bandaid off. Better to get his negative reaction out of the way now than later."
"That's not what I mean and you know it!"
"What…?" He barely said it loud enough for his children to hear. To say Bruce's brain short circuit was an understatement as the words supposedly dead son registered.
Dick sighted and Bruce felt his eldest son placing his hand on his shoulder but all Bruce could do was turn to look at where the child was still high up on the shelf staring at him and looking like he wanted to merge into the shadows of the ceiling corner while Damian tried to coax the child down again.
"Damian told us that Danny is his twin that had died eight years ago. We don't know yet why he is here nor how but Dami, who was the most convinced that Danny was a clone at first, is now insisting that this child is his revived brother. And we believe him, everything we found so far points to that conclusion too."
Bruce barely heard Dicks explanation over his own heart beat as he watched Damian and Danny. All he could think about was that he had failed another child. The child who was supposed to be Damians age had died too young and only to get revived eight years later? Why hadn't Damian told him anything about his brother? Why did the revived child need to appear for him to learn about his existence?
All but one of his sons' attention turned to the child on the shelf as now three of them tried to get the chil- no. Danny, Damian's twin who had died at the age of eight and had now been revived and had been kept a secret from him by his own son too, down from there.
"Danyal come down please. Father does not mean any harm."
"Great Bruce scared the little biter so much that he acts like a scared cat again."
"Just be happy he didn't instantly go to bite Bruce."
"I would have actually liked to see that happening."
"Would you imbecile shut up. Danyal, would a snack from Alfred help calm you down?"
"If Dickie didn't get him to stop hissing with treats why would he come down from up there for one?"
"Hey Jason, hold your arm up please?"
"The fuck you want replacement?"
"We are not using Todd as bait."
"Worth a shot."
"Fuck off, how about you hold your arm up."
"You're taller than me and have more reach."
"Oh now you're fine admitting you're short?"
"Shut up. Neither of you will be used as bait. Who knows what diseases either of you carry."
""HEY""
Turning around and wordlessly leaving the room Bruce decided he needed to find a way to contact Talia. He needed answers and that as soon as possible. He could not face Danny like this and his children seemed to have the situation handled for now.
As the man stormed out of the room, he did not notice the worried or judging side eyes of his children. Nor the green eyes that had never once stopped watching him as they turned blue appearing more confused than when they had been green. Jason on the other hand had noticed the change and couldn't help but wonder why the little biters Pit reacted this strongly towards Bruce when his own had been surprisingly quiet for the last couple of hours.
--------------------
Meanwhile Illinois in a small hidden town…
"What do you mean template isn't here anymore?!"
"He disappeared. They say he died but I can't believe it. I don't believe it."
"You better! If he died the entire ghost zone would have rioted!"
"What?"
"Hello? Ghost King?"
"Right… But how do we find him?"
"Maybe we can track his ecto-signature?"
"We have to give it a shot. We need to find him before the GIW do."
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