#red robin request

[starspilli]

dc cowboy doodles & wips !

[gilverrwrites]

I love imaging Dick, Tim, and Damian sneaking around trying to meet Jasons new gf because they just wanna be involved in his life and they know if they they leave it to Jay they wont meet her u til they're married with kids 😭

AND ‘omg us meeting Jason’s siblings when’

AN: Ngl I love this idea too, its so shitty of them but they have the best of intentions.

Damian

A boy no older than 14 with eyes that pierce the soul was not what you'd expected to find on Jason's couch the very first time he'd left you alone there. Jason had to dip out unexpectedly early, and had promised you run of the place until he got back so you'd slept in as long as you could and were on your way to make breakfast when you're greeted by the hell-child.

Once your initial fright wears off you realise you recognize him from a photo Jay had showed you which makes you feel slightly more at ease.

“Good morning? Damian right?” You offer as you pass him, be-lining for the coffee machine, you're gonna need caffeine if you're meeting any member of Jay's family for the first time. “Can I get you anything?”

“Alfred says it's unbecoming to sleep past 9.” Besides the initial glare he'd graced you with as you emerged from the bedroom, he doesn't even look up at you, his eyes glued to the pages of a book. Like brother like brother, you guess.

“Oh, well. Good thing Alfreds not here then.” You add a small laugh, trying to inject some humour to the situation. Damian does not respond in kind. “Is that a no? I think there's some chocolate cereal around here somewhere.”

“What do you do for work that allows you to be in my brother's home in the middle of the day?”

Jeez this kid is no-nonsense. “Or I could make pancakes, I make really good pancakes.”

“And tell me what exactly are your intentions with my baby brother?” Baby?

“I think there's some chocolate chips around here somewhere. Jason says you like chocolate. Chocolate pancakes?”

“Do you always avoid questions?”

“Are you always so intense?”

He slams the book closed and you nearly jump on the spot. He finally looks at you, really looks at you and as you stare back his features begin to soften slightly.

“I’ll have a coffee.”

You're certain from the sly look on his face that he's probably not allowed coffee. He certainly doesn't need any. But screw it, he's not your kid and if it gets him to like a little, you'll take the risk.

So you pour two coffees and join him on the couch. His questions do not cease until Jason returns about an hour later. He couldn't care less about the coffee, but he does care about Damian breaking in to interrogate his partner and immediately kicks Damian out.

Dick

Dick finds out about your existence from one of Damian’s letters, and he's subtle but pushy about meeting you. Not that you're aware. He keeps ‘dropping by’ Jason's apartment ‘just to see his lil brother’, no other reason but is told to get lost or downright ignored anytime you're there, until he decides to cut out the middle man and turn up at your home instead.

“Let me tell you, you are a hard person to get a hold of.” He informs as he invites himself through your front door.

“Um, hello Dick?” As you stare at his lush hair and sculpted abs you wonder what Alfred feeds these boys.

“Yep! I can't stay so I’ve gotta make this quick.” he gestures for you to come closer, speaking in a playful, conspiratorial whisper. “Jay doesn't know I'm here.”

That would be why he can't stay, Jason is due at your door any minute now.

“But you two seem to be getting pretty serious and I think it's important that we all get to know each other. You following?”

You nod, and he gives you the perkiest, most genuine smile. That or he has that exact look practised to a T. From what Jay tells you, either is possible.

“So, Barbara and I, that's my wife” You nod once more, you're aware of Barbara also. “have booked a table at Casa Gotica for Thursday night. We need you to get Jason there without letting on that it's a double date.”

“I don’t know.” you finally give your nodding head a break. “Jay and I don’t lie to each other.”

“Right. I can't begrudge that. Very glad to hear he's picked an honest one.” He takes a moment to straighten his thoughts, but his moment is cut short but the echo of Jason’s combat boots approaching your door. Dick’s eyes rapidly scan the room for a secondary exit before he settles on an open window. “Don't think of it as lying, think of it as omitting the truth. Whatever you have to do just be there for 6.30. Oh, and it's great to meet you!”

“You too.”

“Thursday, 6.30!”

Before you can agree he’s gone, presumably scaling the side of your building as Jay steps inside.

Tim

Tim was actually the first to be aware of you and your relationship with his brother, however, the very real possibility of being gutted by Jason for snooping in his personal life was too high for him to make a move.

But you seeking him out is a different story; or rather, you being the first to say hi when you bump into each other in line at the grocery store is different. It would be rude not to respond to your attempts at initiating a conversation.

“Hello, hi, are you Tim? You don't know me but I’m Jasons partner. Its so great to meet you.”

“I know who you are.” He states rather ominously, eyes darting around behind you. “Is he here?”

“No, but he's picking me up after.” His shoulders visibly ease.

“Cool cool cool.” He’s suddenly much more personable. “So, I hear you're into…”

That chatting doesn't dry or lul at all as the queue dwindles and both buy your groceries. He waits with you until you get confirmation from Jay that he's on his way. He's easily the chillest sibling you've met thus far.

When Jason arrives he gets out of the car to open the boot and passenger door for you as always, but not before he thrusts his phone in your face. “Where is he?”

Displayed on the screen is a selfie of Tim with you in the background, you absolutely do not remember it being taken.

[jaythes1mp]

Shallow

Yandere Batfam x Merfolk Reader ♧romantic♣︎

Aquaman, Aqualad, Mera, and any other underwater hero’s and creatures don’t exist in this.

||-→ I tried to make each pov a different style of writing ||

There was something so captivatingly beautiful about observing the humans from below the surface, as they went about their daily lives, traversing the Metro-Narrows Bridge. The elders had always warned you to keep your distance from the world above, but you couldn't resist sneaking glances at the peculiar, moving metal boxes zooming across the streets, or the striking figures donning vibrant spandex who soared through the skies at night.

The bridge, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, cast an ethereal light across the water of the river. This sight, enhanced by the night, would always catch your attention, especially when they appeared. Moving in and out of the shadows, darting around or simply standing on the railing, lost in their own worlds.

You had grown fond of observing them as they soared through the night sky, reminiscent of the graceful movements of swans. Their elegance was effortless, seemingly defying gravity as they traversed the air. It was in those moments, watching the sky people glide past, that you were struck by the rawness of their beauty.

You never dared to come too close to the surface during the day, the haunting tales from your pod serving as a constant reminder of the horrors that existed above the water. But the night was a different story; it’s when you were more willing to take risks. The darkness provided the perfect cover, shrouding you in obscurity as the humans slept.

Though you supposed that the real reason you continued to venture up to the surface was because it was the time that they emerged, gliding through the air and gracefully traversing the buildings. Their shadows, illuminated by the silvery light of the moon, seemed to dance in perfect harmony with the night. Always seeming to captivate your attention in a way that no underwater creatures could.

However, on this particular night, you noticed something out of the ordinary. One of the usually lively land creatures was sluggish and listless, moving with none of the fluid grace that you had come to admire. A deep crimson liquid seeped through the fabric of his suit, spattering across the spandex and staining it a dark, ominous hue.

You cautiously approached the surface, swimming closer than you had ever dared to before. Slowly, you emerged, peering just above the water's edge.

You couldn’t see the human clearly, obscured as he was by the sizable drop between the bridge and the water below, but the scent he carried was undeniable. There was something utterly alluring about his aroma. It was a stark contrast to the familiar scents of salt and oil you were used to underwater. You haven't come across anything even remotely similar to it before.

The land dweller was undeniably beautiful.

A loud crash shattered the silence, jolting your attention back to reality. Your gills flared out in alarm, and in your surprise, the soft bioluminescent glow of your tail dimmed down, a natural response to the potential threat.

You backed away, submerging yourself down into the safety that the depths of the water provided. Your gaze fixating on the figure in the distance, decorated in his familiarly vibrant red and yellow attire. This one hastily making his way to the blue-clad human's side, concern decorated across his face, his actions imbued with urgency. Mask torn from his face.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your back from the scene unfolding above, releasing a flurry of bubbles that rose to the surface. Your pods stern warnings echoing in your mind, a constant reminder of the dangers that lay in the world above.

You make it no more than fifteen feet before a thunderous splash shatters the silence, the seawaters ripples rolling across your skin and triggering an involuntary shiver, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your tail instinctively sprung into action, propelling you back with a rapid, powerful flick.

With a sudden movement, your arms encircled the man's sinking frame, securing a firm grip on his sides. Your eyes widening in shock at the contact, your webbed fingers digging into his flesh, anchoring him in place.

For a moment, you paused, studying him. Your eyes absorbing every little detail. From the man's soft, almost spongy flesh under your touch, how soft and almost squishy his land dwelling arms were, how they seemed to just give way to the touch of your webbed fingers. Then to the way the baby blue suit of his that clung to him, was torn and tattered, ripping away underwater. Your gaze lingering on the deep red liquid seeping out of his torso, staining his skin and leaving a trail of ominous scarlet. And then, your gaze travelled to the two bizarre, elongated limbs extending from his waist. A stark contrast to the streamlined grace of your own tail.

His lips parted, releasing a stream of bubbles, each one ascending to the surface before vanishing from sight. You watched as his body suddenly went limp in your arms, reminding you of the dire situation you had inadvertently involved yourself in. With a powerful flick of your tail, you swiftly propelled yourself to the surface, bringing him up so that he could breathe. Your gills flared out, working overtime to filter oxygen from the water while you waited, your hearts hammering in your chest.

When the human made no attempt to improve, limp and unresponsive, you couldn't suppress the deep hiss that escaped from the back of your throat. Your grip tightening around his frame, your tail coiled tighter around his legs, an attempt to stabilise and bring some form of response from him. Your eyes grew large in desperation as you shook him back and forth, each movement growing more frantic with the passing seconds.

You directed your attention to the deep red liquid that was oozing out of his abdomen, its thick, almost oily consistency spreading out in little waves around you in the water. Coming out in shallow pulses. You tilted your head slightly, noting that the fluid's flow didn't seem natural. It felt wrong, a gut feeling of sorts. You hastily reached for the pouch tethered to your hip, pulling out a woven bundle of seaweed and a salve prepared by the elders of your pod.

You delicately began to layer the salve over the gaping wound, taking care to press the woven seaweed into the lesion. The salve, a rich green and purple, had a cooling effect as it made contact with the human's skin. A crucial aspect due to its high iodine content, which helps to close the large gash. As the ointment came into contact with the blood, it began to congeal and bind the tissue together, halting the bleeding.

However, you were acutely aware of the human, who remained unresponsive. His chest, which should've been rising and falling with each inhale, lay still. A sudden panic clutched at your hearts, threatening to overwhelm you. You weren't sure what the proper human anatomy was, but it was abundantly clear that he needed to breathe.

You placed a webbed hand on his chest, the flesh there surprisingly firm. You pushed down, then up again, attempting to mimic the breathing motions you had seen him and others do. Your heart pounded in your chest as you pleaded for him to respond, a silent mantra running through your head. With urgency, you placed a firm grip on the back of his neck, tilting his head back, the gills on your neck flaring out to pull in as much oxygen as they could. Your tail coiling tightly around his waist to keep him afloat.

Despite the pressure you exerted, there was no response from him. His chest remained still, no signs of life. Your breath hitched at the sight, a sense of desperate desperation washing over you. You were frantically trying to keep his head tilted back while the water was washing over his face, the cool liquid creating small ripples that mirrored the urgency of the moment. His body remained motionless, unresponsive to your frantic attempts. You could feel the pressure building in your own chest, your gills working overtime to extract oxygen.

In a final, desperate attempt, you lean in closer, positioning yourself to allow your webbed fingers to forcibly pry open his parted lips. You took in a deep breath and expelled it through the opening, pushing every ounce of air you could manage into his unresponsive lungs.

You repeated the action multiple times, exerting every ounce of effort to force air into his trachea. Each breath, heavy and laboured. You finally pulled back, allowing yourself a moment of respite. Your breaths came out ragged and sharp, a stark contrast to the steady, undisturbed water around you.

As he remains unresponsive, his body frighteningly limp, your body goes slack, a wave of disappointment washing over you. Reluctantly, you release your grip on him and let him go, his body now floating eerily close to yours. You close your eyes tight, trying to swallow the lump in your throat that was rapidly forming.

You flinch at the sudden and unexpected contact, your eyes fluttering open. An alarmed hiss escaped once again through your lips, more out of surprise than anything else. Just as you were about to submerge yourself underwater, a firm hand grasped your shoulder, its grip strong and unwavering.

"Y-you're...alive.", you stuttered out, a mixture of disbelief and awe laced in your raspy voice. The hand on your shoulder felt firm and real, a stark contrast to the nightmarish scenario you had just been a part of.

“Nightwing?” Red Robin's voice cuts through the quiet night, bouncing off the empty alleyways. Frustrated, he takes off his comms, readjusting them to try again for the sixth time in the last ten minutes.

"Dick, come in," he practically growls out, tapping on his device with a little more force than necessary.

“Where the hell are you?” he mutters, staring up at the tall buildings. Dick’s always late, but this was getting ridiculous. With a sigh, he leans back against the wall, crossing his arms as he waits.

A low, familiar voice crackles on the other end of the comms. “Stalker.”

Tim rolls his eyes, recognising the voice immediately. It was too late in the night to put up with him. “Jason.” he sighs, “What do you want. Have you heard from Dick?”

“Not a word.” The response is curt, and the annoyance in Jason’s voice is obvious. He rarely joined in their patrols, preferring to stick to his own methods of dealing with things.

Tim lets out a frustrated huff, tapping his fingers impatiently against his arm. Of course Dick would pick now to go radio silent.

He ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment to let out a frustrated groan. He was stressed enough as it is, none of this was helping.

“You’re patrolling the Narrows?” Jason’s voice breaks through Tim’s thoughts, pulling him back to reality. He looks around, taking in the surroundings with a frown. The Narrows was never a good place to be alone.

“Yeah.” he responds, not taking his eyes off of the shadows. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to know, Dick’s nowhere to be seen. In or out of uniform.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and Tim can practically hear the smirk in Jason’s voice.

“Need backup?” he offers, amusement clear in his tone. The elder boy mocking him.

Tim scowls, shaking his head even if he knew Jason couldn’t see him. “No.” he replies curtly. “I’m not a child, I can handle this myself.”

“Sure, kid.” Jason’s response is just as dismissive. “I’ll come check on you in a bit anyway. Make sure you haven’t gotten your ass kicked.”

Tim’s scowl deepens at Jason’s reply, not appreciating the offer of help — or the nickname. “I don’t need a babysitter.” he grumbles. “I’m going to find Dick, and I don’t need your help.”

There’s a pause, and Tim can practically hear the eye roll from Jason. “Whatever you say, Replacement. I’ll be there soon.”

“No—” Before Tim can protest, the comms go silent. Damn it, Jason.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, biting at the inside of his cheek. The last person he needed to see right now was Jason. The last time he’d come face to face with the man, things didn’t go so well.

Tim grits his teeth and pushes himself off of the wall. He had better things to do than get into a fight with his older brother. Like finding his other older brother.

With a huff, Tim starts walking, making his way through the narrow alleys of the Narrows. It’s quiet, eerily so, and his instincts are on high alert.

Everything feels off. The air is still, and he can’t shake the feeling of being watched. His breath stutters in his chest, but he pushes the feeling down. He had work to do.

“Dick?” he calls out, his headset’s blinking green light signalling the message going through. He glances around cautiously as he moves. “Nightwing, come in. Can you hear me?”

There’s no response, and Tim tries again. Nothing but static. His shoulders tense, the unease growing in the pit of his stomach. This wasn’t like Dick. The man was always on top of communication.

Tim continues forward, his footsteps quick and light. He keeps his eyes scanning the shadows around him, but the silence is deafening. Where the hell is he?

A muffled crunch breaks the silence, and the boy freezes, his breath hitching. It was faint, coming from somewhere off the alley in front of him. His heart rate quickens, and he carefully shifts on his feet, trying to pinpoint the source.

There was something across the street. Someone.

Tim squints, his eyes trying to make out what it was. It was too dark to tell. Damn it, why can’t Dick be here to deal with this..

He’s too used to working in a team, having the security of someone else there to watch his back. The someone’s in question usually being Batman or Nightwing.

He steels himself, slipping into a fighting stance and taking slow steps forward. He can’t let his guard down, not now.

As he moves, the shape across the street shifts. It’s still far away, but from the size and height, he could tell it was definitely a figure.

His comms device beeps, startling the boy and nearly causing him to stumble. He quickly scrabbles to check it, hoping for some sort of answer or communication.

“Red.” Jason’s voice comes through, static breaking up some of the message. The device was clearly reaching a limit. “Can you hear me? Dick’s in trouble.” The voice, as crackling as it was over the broken comms, sounded dishevelled and panted. Jason rarely called for help.

With a final glance at the figure across the street, Tim’s eyes flicker back down to the comms in his hand. Jason found him.

“Where are you?” he asks, not wasting a second as he sets off at a sprint. He didn’t care what kind of trouble Nightwing had gotten into, he just needed to get there.

“Don’t worry about me. Get to Metro-Narrows Bridge.”

The urgency in Jason’s voice has Tim’s heartbeat racing. He doesn’t question it, just continues sprinting. He knew the bridge, and knew it was far.

“...” he grits his teeth. “I’m on my way.”

Tim hits the wall with a pained gasp, eyes squeezed shut as he doubles over coughing at the impact. His vision swims. Shit.

He lets out a sharp gasp, the breath knocked out of him as he’s smashed against the hard bricks. The pain doesn’t have time to register, as his mind is sent into a panicked frenzy.

He sucks in a low breath, trying to clear his head and figure out what the hell just happened. There’s a shuffle of feet, and the distinct sound of metal being unsheathed.

The attack was too precise, too sudden. He grunts, trying to push himself back away from the wall, but a large hand keeps him pinned.

His head finally stops swirling, and he can focus on the large figure in front of him. Not good.

He’s a towering wall of a man, arms bigger than Tim’s head. He’s muscular, clearly built like a brawler. The metal that had unsheathed was a knife, the sharp, gleaming blade being held firmly in the man’s large hand.

“No more running.” the man growls, his other hand still keeping Tim pinned against the wall.

Tim glared up at him.

He’s been in situations similar to this before. He’s fought and won against opponents bigger than him, more experienced than him. He needed to stay calm, and assess the situation.

With a pained grunt, he pushes against the man’s arm, struggling to break free. The man just leans closer, his breath hot in Tim’s face.

The smell of smoke and old alcohol fills Tim’s nose, making him want to retch as the man sneers at him. “Struggle all you want, kid.” he drawls. “You’re coming with me one way or another..” Tim clenches his jaw.

He analyses the situation quickly. His equipment was in his belt, but pinned tight against the wall left him with very little mobility. He had to find a way to get away swiftly, before the man could do him any serious harm.

Tim’s mind races, trying to work out a way to get himself out of this. He’s too close quarters to the man, and any attempt to get away would lead to him getting a knife in his gut.

The man’s grip tightens, making him gasp as the knife is held closer to his skin. His eyes darted around, searching for anything useful. He would have to time this right. “Stop squirmin.’” The man’s gruff voice rang out.

Tim ignores him, grunting as he struggles against the hand pinning him. There had to be something he could use to—

A gleam of something metal catches his eye, and he glances down, spotting a metal pipe sticking out of an open garbage bin. It wasn’t much, but it might be enough.

Tim takes in a shallow breath, his mind racing for a second. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, trying to keep the man talking and distracted.

“Don’t try any shit, sidekick.” He tightened his hold on the boy, using his other hand to get out a walkie-talkie from the pouch on his chest.

Sidekick? Tim’s teeth gritted, a spark of anger flaring up in the back of his mind. He wasn’t just a sidekick.

Tim’s eyes glance down again at the pipe, trying to calculate his next move. He watched as the man brought the walkie-talkie up to his mouth, his heart rate increasing as he prepared to act.

“I got a bird out here,” the man grunted into the device, keeping his eyes fixed on Tim. “Found him in the-“

He barely had time to react before Tim acted. With a sudden burst of strength, he jerks forward, wrenching himself free from the man’s grip. He immediately drops down, grabbing the metal pipe and brandishing it like a weapon. Flinging it into the man’s hand that held the radio. The impact caused him to drop it, as he let out a cry of pain, stumbling back.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He quickly used the momentary opening of shock and pain to his advantage, striking the man hard in the stomach with the pipe. The man grunted, his hand instinctively going to where he’d been hit.

He wasn’t about to give the thug any time to recover. He brought up a leg and kicked out fast, nailing him hard in the knee. The man yelled out again, staggering back.

He raged, stumbling forward and landing one hard punch against Tim’s face.

The younger boy’s head snapped to the side from the hit, the force of it knocking his mask askew, cracking and splitting as he reeled back. His vision swims from the impact, but he can taste the distinct taste of blood in his mouth.

He stumbled back, bringing a hand up to his face and cursing, blood seeping down his face.

His head hurt. A lot. That one hit had left him dizzy, and his cheek stung like hell.

The pain is enough to clear his mind though, and he refocuses on the man in front of him. His lip is split, and his cheek feels like it’s on fire. His mask hangs half off of his face.

Tim grits his teeth, glaring at the man with a new found fire in his eyes. He wasn’t going to let some random thug take him out.

The perpetrator lets out a huff, spitting out a glob of blood onto the floor next to him. An ugly sneer plastered his face, and he stepped forward, reaching down for the knife that had been discarded on the ground. “You little shit.” he spat. “I’ll make you pay for that.”

His eyes flickered down to the knife held flimsily in his hand. He needed to get out of this. The man was bigger and definitely stronger, but obviously nowhere near as experienced as Tim was. He’s surprised that the thug had even managed to get in a decent hit to his face.

His mind is too preoccupied, caught up in the whirlwind of thoughts, and he fails to notice the man’s approach until the moment he's already upon him. The thug's fury makes him careless and ill-prepared, the sound of his stumbling footsteps betraying his presence due to the injury on his knee.

Tim quickly raises his arm instinctively, attempting to shield himself as the man’s towering frame comes charging at him. He’s tackled to the ground in a single swift move, the impact crushing his ribs against the concrete floor.

His back hits the ground, the air getting knocked out of him for the second time that night. The man’s weight pinned him to the ground, the air leaving his lungs in a loud gasp as he struggled.

The man had the knife clutched in his hand, the gleam of the blade reflecting the lights of the city as it was raised up, aimed to strike.

Drake nearly sneered at the sight. He’s an amateur. Over confident in himself and relying solely on force.

Tim’s eyes darkened, his glare locked on the man above him. He was not going to be defeated by some two-bit mugger.

He kicked out at the man, aiming for his still injured knee. The man grunted as he took the kick, shifting off balance for just a second.

It was enough of an opening for Tim to react. He pushed up on the man, using the momentum to roll them both over, switching their positions and taking the top. He wasted no time in smashing the man’s head against the ground, knocking him out stone cold. Blood pooling down against the pavement.

He paused, breathing heavily as he stared down at the man. His lip stung as blood still trickled down his face, the adrenaline in his system beginning to wear off.

Tim sat there for a moment, letting out a hiss of pain as he lifted a hand and gently touched his split lip. He gingerly moved his fingers through his hair, grimacing as he felt the beginnings of a bruise on the side of his face.

Dick was still in trouble. That was the thought at the front of his mind, the reason he was out here and why he had to get to that bridge.

With a wince, Tim pushed himself up, staggering for a moment as a wave of nausea passed over him. He was pretty sure he’d developed a minor concussion from being thrown into the wall.

Everything ached, and his body was screaming at him to just stay down. He ignored it. Nightwing was his priority.

He swayed for a moment, his vision going white around the edges as his head spun, before he managed to stay standing and start moving again.

He didn’t think, he just ran.

He’s still panting as his feet hit the concrete, his body protesting the movement. The nausea from his concussion was becoming very real, and he had to stop to take a deep breath to steady himself.

Fuck, he was going to throw up, wasn’t he?

Tim bit his tongue and started running again, forcing himself to push on and ignore the pain. He had to keep moving.

The cold, night air hurt his lungs, but he didn’t stop. Not even as the pain from the beating began to make itself known with each hard footstep against the concrete. He had to get to the bridge.

He kept going at a brutal pace, ignoring how his vision swam and how every breath he took just made him feel like he needed to puke.

He’s not sure how long he had ran, his mind focused entirely on just moving. One foot in front of the other, he just kept going.

As he rounded the corner, he noticed the bridge in the distance. His eyes widening, watching Dick stagger back against the railings edge.

Tim stumbled for a moment, but pushed himself back up, keeping himself moving forward. He could barely see straight, but nothing else mattered. Nightwing’s tall and dark silhouette was leant against the night light of the bridge. Even from a distance, he could see the blood on Dicks skin, staining the side of his face, his suit’s front ripped open, a large gash in his abdomen pooling out onto the ground.

Tim’s speed quickens, every muscle in his body crying in protest but he continues on. All he could focus on was the sight of Nightwing. In the low light, he could see Dick’s shoulders moving with each heavy breath, looking seconds away from collapsing.

In a desperate attempt to save his mentor, Tim lunges forward and grabs onto Dick's arm. However, the fabric of the torn and damaged suit simply tears further under the force, causing Dick to slip free from Tim's grasp and fall into the dark, ominous water below.

"NO—!" The cry escapes Tim's mouth in a choked rush, the sound filled with anguish and fear. With a desperate burst of energy, he lunges forward, his hand reaching out in a desperate attempt to cling to Dick's suit, to anything that would keep him from falling.

But it was too late. He was too late.

His heart hammers frantically against his chest as he gazes down into the dark depths below, his eyes wide and searching desperately for even a glimpse of Dick in the river's deep murky water.

His breath hitches, a silent sob wracking his frame as he slumps over the edge of the bridge, his hands shaking as he brings them up to his face. His blood-slick fingers thread through his hair, his eyes wide as they stay fixed on the dark water where Dick had fallen.

The sound of a vehicle approaching in the distance catches his ears, but he doesn't acknowledge it. He doesn't turn to see who it is or check to see if it's a threat. He just keeps staring down into the water, the sound of the river below the only thing he can hear over his panicked breathing.

Jason came to a crashing halt at the side of the bridge, the panicked urgency in his voice clear. He stumbled off his bike, nearly falling as he yelled out.

"Where is he--” His hollow eyes darted around at their surroundings. "WHERE IS HE?!"

Dick.

Tim's eyes widened as Nightwing's head broke the surface of the water, his body floating limp against the current. He's alive.

His shoulders tense as he quickly scrambles to his feet, his body protesting in pain with each movement.

The relief he feels is quickly drowned out, however, as he notices the large bioluminescent tail wrapped around his older brother's lower half, keeping him from crashing with the harsh currents. 

Jason quickly approached the bridges railing, his heavy boots thudding loudly against the concrete, his heart racing thunderously against his chest, deep sapphire eyes following Tim's wide gaze down into the water. As he saw the sight in front of him, his eyes widened in disbelief.

He gripped the rough stone ledge, leaning over to get a better look at his brother. "What the fuck is that?" The older boys voice cuts through the ringing in Drake's ears.

Tim couldn't respond, his eyes glued on the large tail, his jaw slack. He took in the sight of the long powerful appendage wrapped around his brother's waist. It was beautiful. The long black scales seemed to glow a soft purple even in the dim moon’s light, as if the creature attached was glowing itself. The bioluminescence was something that one could only describe as ethereal.

Tim's heart raced as he took a step closer to the edge of the bridge, his eyes darting around, trying to catch a glimpse of the creature. He couldn't believe his eyes. Neither of them could.

Tim's mind reeled, trying to comprehend what they were seeing. His heart was pounding, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to process the situation. He knew that he should be scared. His mouth was dry, his tongue felt heavy and thick as he finally managed to speak, his voice low and shaky. "I..I don't know." He croaked. 

A ragged breath escaped his lips as the sea creature met his gaze.

He was frozen as he locked eyes with the creature. His mouth went dry, everything around him seemed to disappear into the background. The only thing he could focus on was the deep piercing eyes peering up from the darkness of the river.

Everything about the creature was attractive – its long shimmering scales, bioluminescent glow, and even the large dorsal fin along its spine.

The flutter of the creature's gills when its eyes met theirs didn’t go unnoticed by the brothers. Jason's lips parted into as much of a smirk as it could given the situation.

The Mer's features slowly disappeared under the surface, as it made a sudden exit. Both of the boys' eyes flicked towards the water, but the sudden gasping from their elder brother drew their attention away once more. 

Dick was struggling, coughing up water as he attempted to pull himself up and out of the water. His large hand was grasping desperately to the creature's shoulder, as he pulled himself up.

Tim's heart leapt into his throat as he watched Dick gasping for air, his body shivering as he struggled to grapple himself out of the water. He was so focused on his older brother's struggles that he almost missed the flicker of glowing purple as the creature’s tail disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Tim moved forward to help Dick, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to see Jason with a grimace on his face.

"What are we going to do?" Tim asked, his voice filled with worry.

Their conversation was cut short, however, as Dick's coughing subsided, replaced by a strangled gasp for air, his eyes wide and frantic. 

"I'm fine," he rasped, his hands trembling as he tried to pull himself up onto the bridge, his body shaking violently. His sharp ocean eyes focused on the crushed seaweed-looking salve used to treat his wounds.

Tim was about to respond when they heard a shuffling from the water, the faint sound of something scratching against the concrete. Tim's gaze snapped down to the water, his heart starting to pound against his chest.

Jason had already stepped back and drawn his weapon, his eyes fixed on a spot in the water a few feet below them. The sound of sloshing water echoed around them again, the dim light from the moon making it difficult to see anything except the faint bioluminescence.

And then, you were gone.

This is the result of the poll -> link.

Don’t judge my random fighting scene with Tim I was trying something out🦖🦖

All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged!

I rewrote everything, so I apologise that this took so long to come out💚

[cryingpariah]

More of these because they are unnaturally fun to make

[https-tim]

hey! loved your writing ♥️♥️ may I ask for... feminization? I know it sounds a bit weird....

thank you so much, anon!! ♡ and it's not weird at all, not to me at least! i was actually hoping someone would ask for this since i'm a huge fan of this kind of stuff lol. anyways! enjoy!

tim drake x male reader

# SUMMARY: tim’s being a brat. you fuck it out of him.

⁺ MDNI

⁺ WC: 2000+

# TAGS: +18 explicit content ／ top male!reader ／ reader has a cock ／ bottom!tim ／ feminization ／degradation ／ brat!tim ／dirty talk ／cockdrunk tim (sorry not sorry) ／ words like pussy and cunt being used to describe tim's anatomy ／slight breeding kink ／ subspace, i guess ／objectifying ／ rough anal sex ／creampie ／overstimulation .ᐟ

He should’ve been limp, ruined, completely out of his mind…

But you knew Tim Drake — and you knew exactly how stubborn he could be.

Even with your cock still buried inside him, his hole red, puffy, fluttering, leaking mess from the two full loads running vulgar trails down his toned thighs, his whole body trembling from being used until his legs simply gave out — he still had the nerve, the audacity, to try and talk back.

To be a brat.

“You know…” His voice was absolutely wrecked, raspy, but somehow still sharp. His arms stayed wrapped tight around your neck, dragging you closer. “For someone who kept running his mouth about putting me in my place... You kinda suck at it.”

You blinked. Slowly. Not fully believing what just came out of that boy’s mouth.

“...What did you just say to me?”

Tim smiled, face flushed — smeared with the black mascara he used under his mask — and dried tears. Sweat clung to his skin, like a melting painting.

“You heard me just fine.”

Your hands gripped his hips tighter, feeling your control wobble inside of your being. “Oh. Oh. So that’s how you wanna play it, huh, princess?”

“Maybe...” He batted his lashes in fake innocence — an act you knew very well — but his hips pressed down, grinding against your cock as if he's daring you. And he was. “What are you gonna do about it, babe?”

You let out a low, sharp laugh, pulling out completely — hearing his broken, breathy whine at the sudden emptiness — before flipping him onto his stomach like he weighed nothing. “Oh, Tim… You have no idea what you just did.”

His arms wrapped tight around the pillows beneath him, face buried into them down to his nose, trembling with anticipation.

Oh no. You weren’t letting him hide like that after winding you up.

Your hand grabbed straight into his raven, damp hair — soft but messy from earlier — pausing only to stroke through it once before fisting a handful, yanking his face to the side. Your other hand latched back onto his waist, dragging a needy, whiny sound from his throat, positioning him in the filthiest angle possible — his back, deep arched off the bed, presenting every inch of that ruined, messy hole of his.

You didn’t wait another second — and shoved your cock right back in, pushing through the hot, wet mess of his cunt, already swollen and dripping with your cum. You sank in slow, just to make him feel every single part of you entering.

Tim gasped, loud, body jolting as you bottomed out, cock pressing so deep inside him it punched the air from his lungs. His lips twitched into a broken little smile. Still bratty. Still mouthing off. “T-That’s... All you’ve g—”

SLAP.

Your palm crashed down on one cheek, the skin blooming a bright red under your hand, heat radiating instantly. His entire body jolted, almost collapsing forward.

“F-Fuck—!”

“Oh yeah? Mouthy little thing, aren’t you?” Your hand came down again, even harder on the same spot, forcing him to arch back into it, clenching deliciously around you. “Talking back while you’re like this — dripping, begging for it.. When this stupid messy pussy’s already been fucked full twice. You’ve got some fucking nerve, princess.”

“Y-You… You hit like a— like a fuckin’ b-bitch...” he panted, breath hitching, but grinding back against you anyway, as wanting as ever.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re gonna regret saying that.”

You pulled almost all the way out — tip barely inside — before slamming back in, deep, hard, punching the air out of him, leaving him choking on his own spit and breath. His fingers went pale from how tightly he clutched the pillows.

“H-Holy shit! W-Wait—f-fuck—”

“Nah.” Your fist yanked his hair back, forcing him to meet your eyes. “My pretty girlfriend wants attention, doesn't she? Then take it. Take everything like the spoiled, little bratty princess you are.”

Tim’s moans shot up in volume, spilling into desperate, broken sobs. Every thrust knocked what little was left of his sanity further out of him. The sound of your skin slapping against his, the wet, obscene noise of your cock destroying his sloppy entranced echoed shamelessly around his room.

His neglected cock bounced uselessly between his legs, red and leaking, untouched, dripping against sheets already ruined by his own precum.

It was hypnotic. The most perfect, filthy thing you’d ever seen.

“Look at this. Look at you. So wet. Pathetic. All that attitude, but this dumb pussy still grips me like it was made for this.”

“S-Shut up...” he whimpered.

Another sharp slap — this time on the other cheek, leaving it just as red, just as hot. Tim cried out, trembling violently.

Was it pain? Was it pleasure?

He didn't even seemed to care anymore.

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” You grabbed his hair again, dragged his head back until you could growl into his ear, voice low, cruel. “That’s real rich coming from someone who loves getting used like a fuckin’ toy. You’re my needy little cumdump, aren’t you, Timmy? That’s all you are, baby girl. Just a pretty little hole for me to ruin until you’re begging me to stop.”

“N-N—Not... I'm not...” he whimpered, voice cracking into something soft, desperate. His thighs twitched, spasming — his body betraying him as his cunt squeezed tight, fluttering, begging for more.

“Oh, aren't you?”

Your hand slid from his hair to his throat, pressing just enough to make his head spin, fingers squeezing the sides to cut off just enough air.

“N-n—no... ngh...” His voice broke, biting his lip until the taste of metal spread across his tongue.

“Then what do you call this, honey?” You slammed right into his prostate, stayed there, grinding deep, letting him feel every inch. His cry was wrecked.

You didn’t move. You waited. Waited until his trembling hand weakly started slapping against your bicep — his pathetic little signal that he needed you to move. To give him more.

“Needy, huh?” Your cock dragged almost all the way out, watching as his pussy clenched down, sucking, trying to keep you. “See that? Even this dumb little cunt knows it’s just a hole. It doesn’t wanna let me go.”

“Shut up—shut up—!”

“No, baby.” You hauled him upright against your chest, palm squeezing his throat, the other forcing his legs wider. “Not until you admit it.”

“I... I won’t...” His voice shattered — barely a whisper now.

“Oh, you will.” Your hand slid down to his neglected cock, fisting the base, jerking him, smearing the drool of precum over his length, all while slamming deep into that same spongy spot inside him. “Say it. Tell me what you are.”

“F-Fuck you—” His sob broke into a gasp — his cunt clenching so tight it made your own vision blur.

“I’m already fucking you, baby. Fucking you stupid. You’re melting for me, my pretty little girl. Just a hole to breed. Just a messy little thing to fuck until there’s nothing left of you.”

His legs buckled — his body collapsing against you, head lolling back on your shoulder, blue eyes glassy, makeup ruined, lips trembling.

You could feel it. He was right there — breaking.

“N-No—... I’m—”

“Say it, Tim.” You growled, thrusting slower, meaner, holding him still, keeping him right on the edge. “Say it, baby. C’mon.”

“F-Fuck—Shit—I... I’m just a—” His voice hitched, throat squeezing, cunt milking you desperately. “I’m just a—just a needy little hole—!”

“Louder.”

“I’M JUST A NEEDY LITTLE HOLE—!”

“That’s right.” You snarled, slamming back in, fucking him harder. “My perfect little hole. My beautiful princess. Good for nothing but for taking my cock and being treated like a girl. You fuckin’ love it, don’t you, Timmy?”

“YES—Yes—fuck—I love it—I love it so much—!” he sobbed, choking on it, babbling nonsense as his cunt spasmed, squeezing you like his body didn’t know how to let go.

You wrapped your hand around his jaw, dragging him into a messy, desperate kiss — tongues sliding, biting his lip until he whimpered. The moment you did, his cock twitched helplessly in your palm and — he came again. The third time that night. Just a few weak drops, barely anything left.

But his body didn’t care.

You let him collapse face-first into the pillows, still buried deep inside him, watching the trembles rack his body.

“I knew it.” you whispered, pressing possessive kisses to his sweaty shoulder.

Tim trembled like a leaf, face streaked with ruined mascara, lips puffy, red, so very perfect. His thighs shook, his poor, sloppy cunt twitching around your cock like it still wasn’t enough.

You throbbed inside him.

And of course — he felt it.

Over his shoulder, eyes bleary, he whispered breathlessly, “Y-You... You didn’t even fill my pussy again... like you said you would...” His hands slid to his thighs, spreading himself open for you, showing off how your cock was still buried deep, how messy, how stretched, how full he already was. “P-Please..”

God. He couldn’t barely move anymore. Couldn’t work his hips — he just laid there, open, waiting.

“Jesus, Tim,” You gasped, grabbing his hands, pinning them to his thighs. “Look at you, sweetheart...”

“H-hhn... J-Just... Fuck me.. Give i-it to me..”

So you did.

You started moving again — fast, deep, brutal — fucking him with everything you had left. The filthy, wet, obscene sounds filled the room instantly, skin slapping, your cock punching back into that sloppy, ruined hole like it belonged there.

Tim let out a noise straight from his throat — raw, desperate, something between a moan and a sob, something completely visceral. His pussy was overloaded, still dripping from everything you’d pumped into him already — and yet it still fluttered around you like it wasn’t anywhere near done.

His pretty hands — long, delicate, so perfect — trembled where you pinned them to his own thighs, holding himself wide open for you, giving you the best view imaginable.

“Oh—fuck—ohfuckohfuck—” Tim whimpered, his voice muffled by his own lips — biting them again to hold back the noise. “It’s—f-fuck—it’s too much... so full—”

“Aww, baby...” You hissed through your teeth, feeling the way his cunt spasmed tighter, trembling, clenching, like it never wanted to let you go. “My girl’s cockdrunk... how precious.”

“Nnh—uh, uh—” He shook his head, denying, crying — but his body betrayed him. His hips rocked back, desperate to meet your thrusts, chasing it like a drug. “N-Not... f-fuck...”

“Oh, darling...” Your hands cupped his ass, squeezing, fingers digging into the plush, bruised skin. You started spanking him again — soft this time — each slap making him jolt, whimper, clench. “You love this. Love having my cock splitting your pussy open like the dumb little toy you are. You love getting stuffed full of my cum like the perfect little cumdump you are, don’t you, Tim?”

“I—” His voice trembled, tiny, broken. “I—I love it... fuck... I love it so much... I wanna—wanna be f-filled with your cum...”

“Of course, you do.” Your nails dug into his hips, wishing the marks could stay there forever. “My perfect girlfriend. My baby. Just a dumb little thing that loves being stuffed full and bred, huh?”

Tim’s whole body trembled — his teeth sinking into the pillow again to stifle the filthy, wrecked sounds spilling out of him. All you could hear now were his desperate, muffled whimpers, the broken “uh-uh-uh” gasping from his lips every time you pounded back into him.

His hips were moving on their own — or trying to — tiny little circles, pathetic attempts to grind against you, to meet your thrusts, to take even more. Like his entire life depended on being filled.

“Sh-Sho—” His voice came out slurred, scrambled, his mind clearly broken. “S-Sho good...”

You pressed your chest to his back again, mouth by his ear, biting his earlobe hard, then licking over it, voice dropping into something cruel and loving at the same time. “You hear that, baby? Hear how wet you are? Hear how filthy this pretty pussy sounds when I ruin it? ” You kissed the top of his head, inhaling the smell of sweat, sex, and his expensive shampoo. “Next time, I’m making you ride me even after dumping three loads in you. Bet you won’t even be able to stay upright, princess.”

“Y-Yeah—uh—wanna— wanna make you... cum inside... again...” Tim wasn’t even coherent anymore. His words were a broken mess of nonsense between sobs and moans, completely strung out on cock and desperation.

“Fuck, Tim...” You laughed breathlessly. “How the fuck did I land a girl like you? You’re perfect. Made for me. Made to keep my cock warm.”

You felt it — the way he tightened. That signature squeeze. The way his body convulsed when he came. His whole frame curling in, pussy clamping down so tight you thought you might black out. You knew — you knew — his cock hadn’t even gotten hard again. He was cumming from nothing but getting fucked out of his mind.

“F-fuck—! I’m—I’m cumming—again—!”

“I know, baby. I can feel it.” You drove yourself into him, so deep it felt like you could split him open. One final slap to his ass, then your arms bracketed his head, caging him in. “Keep squeezing me like that, honey. Keep milking me. That’s all you’re good for. Just a tight little hole for me to dump my cum into. That’s all you are, pretty girl.”

Tim nodded frantically, whining, begging, “P-Please... please... Fill me again...”

“Look at you,” you growled. “Acting like a brat earlier — and now look where you are. Crying. Begging. Just a messy little fucktoy for me to use. My princess...”

It didn’t take long — not with how his cunt clamped down, how sweet he cried for it, how his body begged for it. Just a few more rough thrusts and you broke — shoved yourself as deep as you could possibly go, buried to the hilt, cock pulsing, spilling another load deep inside him.

Tim whimpered when he felt it. Couldn’t even scream anymore. Just this tiny, broken sound — so small, so wrecked.

His cunt was stuffed. Overflowing. Cum leaking around where your cock stretched him wide, pouring down his thighs, staining the ruined sheets beneath him.

But you didn’t pull out. Not yet. No — you laid down beside him carefully, pulled him into your chest, cock still buried inside, keeping him plugged full like you promised.

“S-So full...” he whispered, voice barely there.

You wrapped your arms around his trembling body, fingers pressing into his stomach, feeling how round, how full it was. Your lips peppered kisses into his sweaty nape, down his neck, tasting salt and sex and him.

“A-ah... I-I... W-Want...—��

“Shh...” You silenced him, brushing his hair back, tucking the strands behind his ear. “It’s okay, princess... You don’t need to do anything. Just rest, okay? I’m keeping this pretty pussy full ‘til you wake up, baby.”

Tim nodded. Slowly. Eyes fluttering closed, completely wrecked.

Completely yours.

⋆ please do not repost or translate my stuff. if you enjoyed, please reblog or leave a like ⋆ drawing by @ noodles-and-tea

[nopxxx]

I just adore the idea of Batman completely concealing his kids under his cape. Like I literally love it sm, so here’s how I think a few of them would have done it :)

Dick: hugging Bruce’s leg(when he was tinier) or his waist. I also like to think that outside of combat he would have stood on Bruce’s feet as he walked, yk?

Jason: holding onto Bruce’s arm usually, occasionally hugging him like Dick if he felt threatened. I like to think that when they were idle late at night he would fall asleep while hugging Bruce’s arm

Tim: Tim would be a bit nervous at first, but eventually ended up just huddling himself close to Bruce. He would often be peeking out from under the cape too

Damian: It took him a few months to agree to being protected in the cape, but one late night after detaining a rough arkham escapee he’s just so tired, and he’s nodding off and Bruce just gently lifts him up and holds him, and it’s so surprisingly warm and comfortable that he can’t help falling asleep. After that he went under the cape more often, huddling close like Tim used to(haha), and occasionally allowing himself to be held in his father’s arms.

Take this song and be sad with me

[midnitevulturezz]

Hi clara can you draw timlonnie thanks bye

bruh ok

[totallynotashieldagent]

If I Say Please

Pairing: Tim Drake/Reader

Summary: Tim has no idea how perverted his girlfriend's mind is for him.

Author's Note: Written for @sophsthebest.

Refer to THIS POST if you want something more <33 Give me a nasty prompt <33

It's not obvious. It's never obvious. Where your mind goes, how your eyes follow Tim. He can be so sharp but so... ignorant at times. His brain working overtime for certain things but completely unaware when it came to you.

You were his sweetest little thing. And to an extent, he was right. You were sweet. Adorably so. But the way you brain worked, the way your pussy throbbed whenever you looked at him. All the lewd images your mind played when you watched him do anything .

Oh- He was not privy to that at all.

Even now, for example. As you sat across him in his room. He was tapping away, furiously focused on his laptop while you sat on the bed, pretending to read a book.

You sighed softly, your finger fidgeting at the corner of the page as you watched him. Hunched over, running his hand through his hair every now and then but the dark hair kept falling into his eyes again and again.

He had that determined look on his face. The one that made you want to climb into his lap and ride him until he cried.

You smiled to yourself. God- He has no idea . You bit your lip to stop yourself from making a sound. Your thighs clenched together tightly but it did nothing to help the aching need pooling in your gut that was seeping into your cunt.

.

Continue Reading. . . . Fic Masterlist.

[horsechestnut]

The dichotomy between Jason dying because he disobeyed Batman and Stephanie dying specifically because she was trying to follow his rules is so good, and yet so under utilized.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Batfam finding out Tim has a partner they didn't know? I'm talking like a year at most. 👀 He wasn't even trying to keep them in the dark, it just never came up(his words) and his partner, hilariously I imagine, gets along w damian well.

Since When?! Tim Drake x Reader

wc: 0.8 K summary: Batfam finds out Tim has a partner warnings: none, no y/n used a/n: have fun reading it, I tried my best to make it entertaining and not cringe at the same time. enjoy!!

Laying in Tim‘s arms after a stressful week always felt like heaven. It was safe and soft, wrapped up in his familiar scent and getting to hug and squeeze him as much as you want. Usually, you don‘t worry about some of his family members walking in on you two cuddling up on his bed, and neither did you today. It was as normal as ever. However, when you heard some sounds from downstairs you tensed up. Tim soothed you by rubbing your back and whispering some reassurance to you. Internally, Tim was panicking.

Nothing ever is happening around the Manor, so why would something be happening now? Bruce should be in the batcave or somewhere else, Alfred is minding his business and there shouldn‘t be anyone else in the house… unless someone decided to pay a surprise visit.

»Hey, Timmy!«

The door swings open and his eldest brother appears in the doorframe, making you tense again and freeze in your partners arms. Dick also freezes and realises that this is a private moment he just interrupted. A private and intimate moment between his younger brother and, most likely his partner.

He straightens up and clears his throat, still standing in the doorframe for some reason.

»Uh, Tim? I… I should get going, huh?«

An almost awkward chuckle leaves Dick before he quickly closes the door with a slam and makes his way downstairs in a new speed record.

All you can hear is a yell from outside and the heavy footsteps of his brother. It‘s muffled but you can still hear it from Tim‘s room.

And a moments later, there are more sounds and more yells, and screams errup from outside the room.

Embarrassed, you sit up and lean off of Tim, looking both confused and slightly scared.

»Was this your brother?«

»You are about to meet the rest of them.«

He mutters back and also sits up with a sigh. You watch him run his hand through his hand tiredly, assuming this will get more chaotic than it already is.

»Is this your date?!«

The door literally slams open again with more force this time and there stands a blonde haired girl, excitement and curiousity written all over her face and body language.

Tim cringes beside you, his ears growing increasingly more red.

»That‘s… my partner.«

He admits and rubs the back of his neck, revealing your relationship with him. The jaw of the girl goes slack and she runs away to probably collect the rest of the siblings.

Moments later, the room is packed with all his siblings and they are too curious for their own good. Some teasing questions drop but also more personal questions aimed at you. You try your best to answer them all and won‘t let anyone get left out on accident.

The most asked question was probably, »Since when are you two even together?« and, »Why didn‘t you tell me?!« aimed at Tim.

He really tried to step in and explain it all calmly, but they didn‘t let him. It was amusing, seeing them interrupting each other and talking over each other some times, as well as straight up ignorimg Tim and only focusing on you. All of his siblings are pretty unique in their own way, everyone seems to be alike but also completely different at the same time.

One sticked out in particular and it was the youngest of them all. Damian, you soon found out after Tim insulted him for asking an annoying question.

He seems to be chill. Genuinely.

Even when it seems like he and Tim have a rocky relationship, he doesn‘t seem to be all that bad. Just a little teasing, but that‘s it.

The visits from now on where a little more entertaining. Every time you entered the manor, someone else than Tim greeted you. Once it was Alfred, then it was Stephanie, before Damian seemed to be the regular person who greets you when you step inside.

Surprisingly for Tim, you two get along pretty well. Tim has a theory that Damian is pretending to be all nice and friendly with you just to piss him off even more. It would make sense, but you don‘t believe in it.

»I am telling you, he does it on purpose! He is never friendly to anyone else except Alfred. Hell, he can get hissy with him too, sometimes!«

»Yeah, I don‘t believe you. He seems like a normal kid to me.«

You shrug casually and it makes Tim even more exhausted. Just… why does it have to be Damian? You could be besties with Dick or even Jason, but Damian is just another level of disrespect.

»Just say you don‘t love me anymore...«

Tim grumbles back after a moment and turns away from you on the bed, his back facing you now.

»Wait— no, I didn‘t mean it like that— «

a/n: In short, I think he would be offended at first and just even more annoyed than before around the Batfamily,but it'll settle eventually. Slowly, but eventually.

←MASTERLIST

[saltjams-art]

sorry this one took so long, i've never been to a waterpark so i was struggling to find one i wanted to use as reference, but then i had a stroke of genius when i remembered action park, and thusly, the batfam's adventures in Action Park uwu

i was making them all incredebly late at night, so excuse the progressing decrease in quality

i hope you enjoy @pilot-ryley

[hummingbird24220]

please plsplspslpslps shanks x reader where shanks saves reader from drowning because they're a devil fruit user (idk what fruit tho) and was thrown overboard by some pirate shanks had come across that had the gall to attack him

also idk when this is maybe when he still had both his arms or just sent benn to pull reader out of the sea

daddy shanks 🛐🛐

Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long <3 Hope you like it

He has both arms in this just FYI ^^ Kinda a rollercoaster, bit random and convenient for plot sake, but hey ho its fanfic.

A Hand Through the Waves

Shanks x Reader

The sea didn’t care that you were screaming.

It was too loud. Too heavy. Too cold. Your voice didn’t even reach the surface — it was swallowed by the swell and crushed under the weight of the Grand Line’s cruel embrace. You thrashed in vain, your limbs sluggish and clumsy, every movement dragging you deeper. A Devil Fruit user with a bounty high enough to warrant attention — but clearly not enough to earn respect.

You didn’t see who pushed you.

The crew that ambushed you was small, cocky, and stupid enough to try and pick a fight with Red-Haired Shanks. You happened to be at the wrong port at the wrong time — or maybe the right one, you’d later wonder.

Because the moment your vision began to blacken, a ripple tore through the sea.

And then there was fire in the water. Not literal fire — but something burning bright, cutting through the blue like a sword. A splash above. A hand. Large, calloused, warm despite the water. You couldn’t see his face — just red hair, wild and waving like a flag.

Then the world twisted, and air hit your lungs again like an explosion.

You gasped, coughing seawater onto the deck of a ship that wasn’t yours. The wood beneath you was warm. The voices around you were muffled. And one, clearer than the rest, laughed low and easy.

“Well, that was dramatic.”

You looked up, dazed. Shanks.

Red hair slicked back from diving in. Shirt soaked, clinging to his chest. One hand holding a half-empty bottle, the other holding you steady by the shoulder.

“Next time someone throws you off a ship,” he said, “aim for somewhere less deep.”

You blinked. “You—why would you—”

“Save you?” He grinned. “Couldn’t just let a Devil Fruit user drown in front of me. It’s bad manners.”

You tried to push yourself up, but your arms trembled. He immediately dropped the bottle and helped you sit, more careful than you expected from a pirate so feared.

“Besides,” he added, brushing a soaked strand of hair from your face, “I liked your glare when they dragged you across the dock. That’s the look of someone who doesn’t go down easy.”

“I would’ve… gotten out,” you wheezed.

He smirked. “Sure. Eventually. I just sped things up a little.”

You were quiet for a second, staring at him. “Why were you even there?”

Shanks leaned back, propping himself up on one elbow. “Coincidence. Or fate, depending how poetic you are. Either way—” his grin returned, easy and warm, “—I’m glad I was.”

A beat of silence.

“…I owe you,” you muttered.

“No, you don’t.” He tilted his head. “But if you insist on repaying me…”

You braced for a smug flirt.

“…you can share a drink.”

You stared.

He raised the bottle in offering — then looked at it, frowned, and chuckled. “Ah, sea water. Guess we’ll need a fresh one.”

You surprised yourself with a breathy laugh.

Shanks helped you to your feet. His grip never faltered. His crew gave you space, friendly enough to not overwhelm you but curious enough to watch. You stood beside him on the deck, shivering from the cold but steady.

He draped his cloak over your shoulders without a word.

“Let’s get you dry, yeah?” he said, voice low. “And then… you can tell me how someone like you ended up in that mess.”

The clothes were soft. Loose. A bit too big.

You didn’t know whose they were — someone from Shanks’ crew, probably — but they smelled faintly of salt, citrus, and something warm. You sat tucked into a corner of the captain’s quarters, wrapped in his heavy cloak, both hands curled around a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

Not rum. Not sake. Cocoa.

You didn’t expect pirates to stock it, let alone serve it in chipped, homey mugs like it was just another Tuesday.

Shanks sat opposite you, sprawled out in a chair with one leg hooked over the other, a faint grin tugging at his mouth every time your nose dipped toward the cup.

“You’re staring again,” you muttered.

“I’m not,” he said, still very clearly staring. “You just look different when you’re not soaking wet and furious.”

“I wasn’t furious.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“…Okay, I was a little furious.”

“You cursed at them in three different languages.”

“And I meant every word.”

Shanks laughed — a full, belly-deep sound that filled the room like sunlight. You looked away, ears hot despite the chill still clinging to your skin.

He didn’t press. Just let the silence settle. The room creaked with the gentle rock of the ship. Somewhere outside, his crew laughed and shouted over something completely unrelated. For a moment, you felt like you were sitting in a little pocket of peace.

“So,” he said, voice quieter, “you wanna tell me who those bastards were?”

You sipped your drink. “Low-level pirates. Cocky. I didn’t recognize their flag.”

“And they still had the guts to throw you overboard?”

“They knew I couldn’t swim.” Your tone sharpened slightly. “The moment they figured it out, they used it.”

Shanks’ smile dimmed. His one visible hand clenched slightly.

“They’ll regret that,” he said simply. No threat in his voice. Just truth.

You believed him.

He watched you for a moment more, then reached into his coat pocket and tossed something your way. You caught it on instinct — a small, carved wooden token.

“What’s this?”

“A charm,” he said. “For good luck.”

“…Do I look like I need luck?”

“No. You look like someone who deserves a second chance.”

You stared at him, confused. His expression was unreadable now — steady, thoughtful. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on knees.

“You’ve got that edge to you,” he said. “Like someone who’s been through a lot and doesn’t trust kindness when it shows up.”

You didn’t answer.

He smiled anyway. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Alive. And welcome to stay until you figure out what’s next.”

“…You’re offering me shelter?”

“I’m offering you cocoa, warm clothes, and a damn good crew to lean on if you need it. The rest is up to you.”

You looked down at the token again. It was warm from your grip.

“…Thanks,” you muttered.

He stood up, brushing crumbs from his sleeve. “You can rest here as long as you want. There’s food in the mess if you get hungry.”

As he turned to leave, you glanced up. “Shanks?”

He paused in the doorway.

“I didn’t say thank you. For saving me.”

He looked over his shoulder with a grin that could disarm a navy fleet. “You’re welcome. Just try not to fall in again — I can’t keep jumping into the ocean every time someone picks on you.”

You huffed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He winked — then was gone, leaving you alone in the warmth, the sea humming just outside the walls.

-

You didn’t stay forever.

As comforting as Shanks’ ship was — as warm as the crew, the cocoa, and the laughter had become — you weren’t meant to be tethered for long. The sea called to you in a different way. One day, with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, you handed Shanks back his cloak and stepped off the Red Force with a nod and a promise.

"Don't go getting thrown overboard again," he had teased. You had grinned. "Only if you promise to be the one to save me."

You had walked away before he could respond.

Years passed. You made a name for yourself, slowly but surely. Smaller adventures. Quieter ones. You stuck to the edges of chaos, learning from the currents instead of fighting them. Still, every so often, you’d catch wind of Red-Haired Shanks — his name whispered with awe, in taverns and bounty posters, drifting like seagulls on the wind.

You never asked. Never wrote.

But you always listened.

You didn’t expect the push.

It came sharp and sudden, a shove from a group of rowdy, half-drunk pirates you’d brushed shoulders with at the port. You cursed your balance, cursed your timing — cursed the damned Devil Fruit as your body hit the water with a splash and everything turned to cold, cruel silence.

Just like before.

But this time, you didn’t see fire. You saw green.

A blur cut through the surface — a strong arm hooked under yours, and suddenly you were rising fast, coughing and gasping as the sun stabbed through your eyelids. You hit the dock hard, sputtering on your hands and knees.

"You alright?"

The voice was low. Calm.

You blinked past the water in your eyes and looked up — and saw it.

That hat.

Straw-brimmed. Familiar. Beloved. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs as your voice broke through the panic.

“...Shanks?”

There was a pause. Then a laugh — not deep and mellow like his, but bright, high, and joyful.

“Shanks?! That’s a first!”

You blinked harder, the haze lifting. The outline shifted, the figure sharper now — not tall and broad-shouldered with red hair, but younger. Much younger. Barefoot and wide-eyed, with a smile that looked like it had never known a day of fear.

You sat up with a shaky exhale, as the green-haired man who’d saved you stepped aside, eyeing you cautiously.

“Oi, don’t scare her,” he muttered to the boy.

The boy — the one with the hat — squatted beside you, head tilted.

“I’m Luffy,” he beamed. “You know Shanks?”

You stared. Then laughed softly, the sound cracking like a wave against the rocks. “I… I used to.”

He leaned in, almost buzzing with excitement. “He gave me this hat! He saved my life! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”

You blinked again, heart twisting strangely at the fierce certainty in his voice. There was no fear. No hesitation. Just fire.

Something about him — the glint in his eyes, the way he talked about Shanks, the way he reached out with a hand to help you up without a second thought — tugged deep in your chest.

Like you’d seen him before, in a dream. Or maybe a story Shanks had once told over a drink.

You took his hand.

“Thank you, Luffy,” you said softly. “You saved me.”

He grinned wider. “Zoro did the saving.”

You glanced at the swordsman — soaked up to his thighs, arms crossed. “Thank you too, Zoro.”

He nodded once. “Don’t mention it.”

“You’re lucky,” Luffy added. “You fell in near our ship. If it was further out, we might not’ve seen you.”

You stared at him a moment more. “You remind me of him.”

“Shanks?”

You nodded. “Not just the hat. The heart.”

He looked stunned for a second. Then grinned again, impossibly brighter.

And just like that — without meaning to — something settled inside you.

A sense of purpose you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“…Do you guys have a ship?”

“Oh yeah! We’re the Straw Hat Pirates!”

You smiled, brushing damp hair from your face. “That’s… a very fitting name.”

Zoro squinted. “Why are you smiling like that?”

You didn’t answer. You were too busy watching Luffy bounce on the balls of his feet, already asking if you wanted food, if you could fight, if you wanted to meet the rest of the crew.

And you? You were already following him.

Because even if your path had drifted far from Shanks, somehow, you’d found someone carrying his light.

-

By the time you made it onto their ship — the Thousand Sunny, they proudly told you — your hair had dried, your clothes hadn’t, and your heart hadn’t slowed since that moment you saw the hat.

The Straw Hats welcomed you with open arms… and varying energy levels.

Nami looked you up and down and immediately got you a towel and spare clothes. Sanji offered warm tea and sparkled like a chandelier when you thanked him. Usopp stood behind Luffy, peeking nervously until you smiled at him. Chopper buzzed around you like a doctor on caffeine. Robin observed, polite and unreadable, but kind. Franky shouted something about “HELL YEAH! SEA-PLUCKED FRIEND!” Brook made a skull joke. You politely pretended to laugh.

Zoro, already back in dry clothes and leaning against the rail, just nodded like you weren’t a big deal.

You liked that. It reminded you of Shanks’ crew — strong, strange, loud, loyal.

And then came dinner.

The galley was alive with the clatter of plates, the smell of food, and laughter. You sat at the table, now warm in borrowed clothes, sipping soup while Luffy devoured enough for three people beside you.

“I still can’t believe you know Shanks!” he said with his mouth full.

You smiled. “I met him a long time ago. After I got tossed off a ship and nearly drowned.”

The table quieted.

“…Wait,” Luffy said slowly, looking at you like you’d just grown another head. “You too?!”

You nodded, amused. “I was thrown overboard by some pirates. Couldn’t swim. Next thing I know, he’s diving in after me. Pulled me out like it was nothing.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “That’s what he did for me!! When the bandits tried to drown me as a kid! He didn’t even hesitate—he just jumped in! Lost his arm and still smiled at me.”

Your smile faltered slightly, surprise flickering in your chest. “He… lost his arm?”

“Yeah!” Luffy grinned. “Saved me from a Sea King. I was little. Thought I was a goner.”

You stared at him — this bright, ridiculous boy who burned with so much of Shanks’ same chaotic kindness — and felt something strange twist in your stomach.

“Guess he has a habit of saving waterlogged idiots,” you murmured.

Luffy laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

The crew relaxed again, picking their own conversations back up. But Luffy stayed turned toward you, grinning like a kid at storytime.

“So then what?” he asked. “Did you sail with him?”

“For a while,” you said, swirling your soup. “His crew is good people. They let me heal a bit. Then I left. Didn’t want to be a permanent passenger.”

“That’s dumb,” Luffy said cheerfully. “You could’ve stayed forever.”

You gave him a look. “You didn’t stay with him either.”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna be King of the Pirates! I had stuff to do!”

You laughed softly, eyes fond.

He grinned back at you. “So do you think meeting me was good luck or bad luck?”

You paused.

“…Honestly?” you said. “I don’t know. It feels like the universe is laughing at me a little. Same Devil Fruit curse. Same hat. Same stupid smile.”

“Hey!”

You gave him a small nudge with your elbow. “Better teeth, though.”

“HA!” he barked, not remotely offended.

You looked around at the crew, warm and bright and loud — and felt something soft settle in your chest.

You weren’t drowning anymore.

And maybe fate did have a weird sense of humor. But this time, you were willing to see where the current led.

-

You’d never been good at staying in one place.

The sea had always pulled at your bones like a tide you couldn’t fight — never violent, just constant. No matter how warm the company, how sweet the food, or how loud the laughter, you felt it again: the urge to move.

So you made up your mind.

You told them the next morning.

They didn’t argue.

Nami hugged you tight. Chopper clung to your leg. Sanji swore dramatically that he’d cry for weeks. Zoro gave a low grunt that meant more than it sounded. Franky gave you an exit speech. Usopp pretended not to tear up. Robin smiled like she knew you were lying to yourself about not looking back. Brook played a few sad violin notes.

Luffy just stared at you like a kicked puppy.

“I’ll come back,” you said softly, brushing a hand through his messy hair.

“You better,” he pouted. “Or I’ll find you and throw you into the sea again.”

You laughed, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to the top of his straw hat.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He grinned. “You’re right. Zoro would have to save you again.”

“Hell no,” Zoro muttered from behind him.

You hugged them all one last time — all warmth and gratitude and just a little bit of ache — then stepped off the Sunny with the world ahead of you and your bag over your shoulder.

The dock was quiet.

The breeze curled around your ankles, carrying the scent of the sea and something else — something familiar.

You didn’t realize you’d stopped walking until your body froze entirely.

Because there — like he’d been plucked out of memory and dropped into your line of sight with all the grace of a cosmic joke — stood a man.

A man with one arm, a sword at his hip, and a head of unmistakable red hair.

You blinked.

And blinked again.

"...Plot convenience powers," you mumbled. "That's the only explanation."

He looked up.

And smiled.

Like he’d known you were coming. Like not a single day had passed.

“Been a while,” Shanks said, voice as low and bright as you remembered.

You stared at him like your brain had short-circuited.

“I—what—how—?”

“Nice to see you too.” He strode forward casually, boots echoing against the dock. “You look good. Bit salty. That’s new.”

You gawked. “You can’t just appear. I just left them. They’re still within earshot!”

He tilted his head. “Them?”

“The Straw Hats!”

His eyes sparked with understanding. “Ah. The Straw Hat.”

“His name is Luffy—oh you know that, don’t play dumb!”

He laughed.

And you stood there, still stunned, still trying to figure out if this was a hallucination brought on by too much nostalgia and soup.

“You didn’t write,” he said softly. “Not once.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I don’t know how.”

“…Fair.”

There was a pause — not tense, just heavy. Full of too many years and too much almost.

“I missed you,” he said, easy as breathing.

You exhaled like you’d been underwater all over again. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“And yet,” he smirked, “here we are.”

You looked at him. At the way his eyes softened. At the familiar cut of his coat. At the wind catching his hair the same way it did in your memories.

“Don’t say this was fate,” you warned, voice weak.

“I wasn’t gonna,” he said, stepping closer. “I was gonna say it was bad luck. Like always.”

That made you laugh. A little broken, but real.

“I was leaving.”

“I can see that.”

“…Should I stay?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Because your feet moved before your brain did — and when he opened his arms, you were already there.

Right back where you’d started.

But different.

-

You were mid-embrace, forehead against Shanks’ collarbone, when you heard it.

“SHAAAAANKS!!!”

Your head whipped around just in time to see a human blur launching itself from the deck of the Thousand Sunny.

“No—wait—” you began, stepping back.

But it was too late.

Luffy hit Shanks like a cannonball. Arms and legs wrapping around him like a sea-wet koala, hat askew, laughing so hard he was nearly sobbing.

“I KNEW IT WAS YOU!!” he yelled, hugging him tighter. “I saw the hair! I KNEW IT!”

Shanks staggered slightly, laughing and patting him on the back. “You're louder than ever, huh?”

“You’re real! You’re actually real! You’re here and she’s here and wait—” Luffy suddenly twisted mid-cling, his wide eyes locking on you with way too much suspicion for someone currently attached to another human being like a backpack. “—Are you Shanks’ WIFE?!”

You spluttered. “What?!”

Shanks snorted.

“NO!” he laughed. “But…” He tilted his head toward you and gave the world’s most irresponsible, charming wink. “She’s the woman I told you about when you were a kid.”

Luffy froze. Eyes wide. Brain shaking hands with a long-forgotten memory.

“The—THE ONE WHO PUNCHED A SEA KING?!”

You blinked. “I didn’t punch a Sea King, I hit a Sea King. With a cannon.”

“THE ONE WHO TOOK ON A WHOLE FLEET ALONE?!”

“That was mostly an accident,” you muttered.

“THE ONE WHO CALLED YOU A ‘FLAMING-GINGER DRAMA PRINCE?!’”

Shanks grinned. “That part is true.”

You slapped a hand over your face. “You told him that story?!”

“He was crying!” Shanks defended. “I had to cheer him up! You were my most hilarious near-death experience!”

Luffy was vibrating.

“You’re so COOL,” he whispered to you like he was five years old again. “You were in a story. A real-life Shanks story.”

You groaned and turned away. “I swear, if he told you about the octopus incident—”

“He did,” Shanks beamed.

“And the blown-up bathhouse?!”

“Oh, that one’s his favorite,” he said, ruffling Luffy’s hair. “He’s been telling that one to his crew for years.”

You turned slowly, eyes narrow. “I am going to drown you.”

“You tried that once,” Shanks grinned. “Didn’t take.”

Luffy was cackling.

The three of you stood there in the sunlight — you fuming, Shanks glowing, Luffy clinging like a starfish — as the Straw Hat crew began cautiously wandering over from the ship.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “I take it this is the red-haired menace?”

“Yup,” you muttered.

Nami blinked. “You know Shanks?!”

“She knows him very well,” Luffy grinned, still latched onto his old mentor.

Shanks tilted his head toward you again. “She’s trouble,” he said proudly.

“And you love it,” you grumbled.

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I really do.”

You sighed, rubbed your face, and turned to Luffy, who finally slid off Shanks and landed back on the dock.

“…You gonna be okay heading out soon?”

Luffy nodded, still smiling wide. “Course! You staying with him?”

You hesitated. Looked at Shanks. Then at the crew behind Luffy.

“…For now.”

He beamed.

“Good,” he said, “'cause if you don’t stay for dinner and at least one round of storytime, Sanji’ll cry and Zoro’ll say he won’t care but he will.”

Shanks chuckled. “I like this crew.”

You smiled. “They’re family.”

He glanced at you. “Then I’m glad they had you. Even for a little while.”

You didn’t answer.

But as you walked back with them toward the ship — Shanks beside you, Luffy dragging both your hands in his — it hit you like a wave:

You weren’t a wanderer anymore.

You were just… waiting to come full circle.

[gilverrwrites]

Boxer brief with Dick, Jason , Tim !!!!

Please ❤️

Decided to use this as an exercise, 5 sentences precisely. Thank you for the request 🩷

From this prompt list

CWs: Slightly suggestive content in Dicks.

Dick

The alarm hadn't gone off this evening, inciting a hectic start to the night. You hadn't even realised until you sat down at your desk that you were wearing the wrong underwear. Dicks boxers to be precise.

They fit you in all the wrong places and make you conscious of their outline showing through your work trousers.

Annoying for sure, but the thing that got you through your night shift was the suspicion that your boyfriend was patrolling the city in nothing but that skin-tight suit and your lacy black thong.

Jason

You'd never been to Jay's place, which was fine at first, but after six months of dating it was becoming difficult not to take offence.

First, it was just cause your place was easier, then it was due to renovations, and finally, he blames his roommate Roy who was apparently messy and lacked boundaries.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that he was hiding something, and by the time the day finally came, you were determined to figure out what.

You'd expected the worst, like a bug infestation or for Roy to be his secret lover, but you'd never expected this, and oh would you make sure the teasing was relentless.

“So, Jay, exactly how many pairs of Wonder Woman boxers do you own?”

Tim

“Ow!”

Tims sleep glazed blue eyes glare at you through a curtain of puffy hair. In his sleep, he'd rolled for too close which normally is the opposite of a problem but not in this godforsaken heat, so when he'd failed to respond to your verbal complaints, you'd pulled back the elastic waist of his boxers until they snapped right back on him.

You open your mouth to begin to complain about the temperature, interrupted by the narrowing of his lids. Things are about to get much hotter.

<3

Likes are highly appreciated, but comments and reblogs are cherished!

More Like This | Tip/Commission Me

[jaythes1mp]

I was wondering how you think readers life would be different if they were a puppy hybrid instead of a cat? I had a dream about this last night after I reread your works

You had a dream abt it after my fic?🫢🥹💚

The dynamics between the reader and the family would noticeably change if the reader took on more canine traits rather than feline. The bat’s would likely respond differently, as canine behaviors and characteristics can vary significantly from those associated with cats. The reader's dog-like nature could shape how the family interacts with and cares for them, adding a different layer to their relationships and potentially influencing the family's behaviour. They’d expect more from you.

The nature of a dog is typically more sociable and dependent, leading to different expectations and interactions.

So if you don't immediately respond to their affections by showing signs of eagerness, like a happy, loving puppy would, the family would interpret your behaviour as abnormal. They might worry that something is wrong with you, as canine behaviour typically involves being sociable and receptive to affection.

They'd expect you to enjoy being petted, as dogs often crave human touch and attention.

You’d promptly be sent out on your way to a vet. Because, something must be the matter with you. It could never be their faults. They'd assume that the issue lies within you rather than considering the possibility that they might be the source of the problem.

In contrast to their care for Kitten Reader, they'd be more inclined to allow Puppy Reader to spend time in human form. This is because it's easier for them to monitor and assess your mental state when you're in human form. As they find it less challenging to gauge your emotions, well-being, and mental state when you're human if you’re completely unreceptive as a pup.

For a kitten it’s natural to be less receptive to affection, batting at their hands or hissing when they get too close. But it’s completely abnormal for a pup. You’re supposed to seek out their touch, not flinch from it.

So they need to nip your behaviour in the bud.

Damian, being the meticulous and dedicated individual that he is, will take it upon himself to arrange online training sessions with the most skilled and highly regarded trainers available. He believes that you ought to behave in a manner that befits your canine nature and will take great care in selecting trainers who can help you learn and adapt accordingly.

He will diligently oversee your progress, taking notes on your behavior and ensuring that you receive the necessary guidance.

Dick, being the “loving and dedicated older brother” that he likes to call himself, will dive into a thorough online research session to discover the best ways to force have you to be affectionate with him. His search queries including phrases like "How to get your dog to like you," "How to create a bond with your new puppy," and "How to make a puppy love you instantly." He’ll immerse himself in articles, videos, and guides that provide tips and techniques to form a deep and affectionate connection with you.

This ends up resulting with every time you manage to do literally anything besides growling at him, whether it be making eye contact, sitting, or even just existing in his presence, you’re immediately rewarded with a dog biscuit as an incentive.

Jason, with his rugged exterior and rough edges, is the type to carry you, no matter how large your fluffy canine physique, in a practical doggy bag. While he may appear tough on the outside, he has a deep attachment to you in your puppy form, as in some underlying level he sees himself in you.

Especially if you have any visible scars that can’t be concealed in your canine form, he might find an even stronger affinity towards you, mirroring his own experiences in a strange yet comforting way.

Tim, being the methodical and detail-oriented individual, he is, would design an unnecessarily intricate and ultra-luxurious dog pen for you indoors. This pen would be thoughtfully equipped with every amenity and comfort appropriate for your puppy needs. However, he's also pragmatic and meticulous, and would ensure that appropriate measures were in place to lock you up if you needed disciplining for misbehavior, demonstrating his keen attention to both your comfort and safety.

Tim's favorite creation thus far for you is the collar fused to your skin in a way that causes no discomfort when you transform from one form to another. It relays live data to the Bat-computer and a specially designed app installed on each family member's phone. The collar monitors everything you consume, tracks your whereabouts, keeps tabs on your vitals, and records your voice continuously for 24 hours. Moreover, it also picks up on any intense emotions you're experiencing, providing the family with a comprehensive understanding of your canine state of mind at all times.

The collar is discreetly designed to blend in, looking just like any ordinary dog collar one would purchase at a pet store, except perhaps a bit more posh and expensive. However, the back of the collar is adorned with a beautiful tag bearing all the family members’ contact details.

Other features are installed to keep you in line. A built-in shocker to administer a warning shock in case of any misbehaving behavior. After all, a little shock can go a long way in shaping a puppy's behavior. The collar is also equipped with a feature that bypasses the need for conscious thought to shift between your human and puppy form. It sends signals directly to your brain, creating a sort of mental “shortcut” to seamlessly transform between states. It takes much of the guesswork out of transforming, streamlining the process and making it effortless, forcing you to shift and taking away your ability to choose with a click of a button.

Bruce, being the overprotective father figure that he wishes to be, would be disheartened with the limitations placed on him. He’d long to take you to the grocery store, show you off to his co-workers, or even simply take walks around the park in his neighborhood. However, the others would be quick to point out that your canine form might attract unwanted public attention, and the less people knew about your existence, the better it would be for everyone’s security.

Like, What the fuck do you mean he can’t take his purebred puppy inside this fine dining establishment?? He’s a billionaire. Make the exception before he has your whole restaurant shut down and each of your employees knee-deep in debt by the end of the day.

Link to official chapter

Like to previous cat reader

I’m so tired… really hope you liked this, anon.

[disastertwins9000]

Please draw more bleached Tim Drake 🥺

🫡🫡

[ahqkas]

i think i speak for everyone when i say we need making out w bruce, tim & jason (separate imagines) after that dick one.....

i’m so glad yall enjoy my thoughts !! sooo here’s more of the series : making out with dick grayson , bruce wayne , tim drake & jason todd