#tim drake dc

[miwsolovely]

—can you love me (like i love you?)

𝜗𝜚 — in which, red robin likes to shows up at your apartment for an irenic moment from the harsh lines of Gotham. he meets you and you meet him, all of him.

TIM DRAKE x CIVILIAN! GN!READER mild angst. reader pining over tim, vice versa if you squint. 3.8k. — this was so fun — requested

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked asphalt and blooming jasmine from the park nearby. You always found it comforting—an odd juxtaposition of Gotham’s grit and its rare moments of beauty. Tonight, however, it wasn’t the air that brought you solace. It was the quiet creak of boots landing on your fire escape.

You smiled before even turning to look. “You’re late,” You teased, peering over your shoulder at the figure perched outside your window.

“Got caught up,” Red Robin replied, his voice light but tinged with fatigue. He stepped into the room with a practiced ease, his cape swaying slightly as he entered. The mask didn’t hide much—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed from the weight of the night’s patrol.

“You okay?” You asked, setting down the tea you’d been preparing next to an additional mug, turning around to face him in the living room, ignoring the pressure of your island on your lower back.

It had become routine by now. After weeks of these impromptu visits, you’d learned his habits: the subtle signs of exhaustion, the occasional wince from a barely hidden injury.

“I’m fine,” He said, though the way he sank into your worn-out armchair betrayed him.

You sighed and let the warmth seep into your palms as you spun around and took a mug from the counter and handed it to him. He took it without argument, the warmth seeming to settle him as he leaned back. “Liar,” You quipped. His nose tensed when he lied.

It had started months ago, the first time he appeared outside your window like some wayward bird. You’d been startled, of course—who wouldn’t be? But he hadn’t come for trouble, just a quiet moment away from the chaos. And somehow, without ever planning to, you became part of his nightly routine.

The first few visits had been awkward. After all, how often does Gotham’s very own Red Robin show up uninvited? But over time, the strangeness faded. He was careful never to overstep, never to ask too many personal questions or reveal too much about himself. Instead, your conversations meandered—books, movies, music, even the weird quirks of Gotham’s neighborhoods.

It wasn’t just him who needed the company. You found yourself looking forward to his visits more than you cared to admit. He was steady, like the ticking of a clock in the background of your life, even if you only ever saw him at night.

Tonight felt different, though. He wasn’t as talkative as usual, his responses short and clipped. You watched him over the rim of your own mug, debating whether to press.

“Long night?” You ventured.

“Something like that,” He replied, staring out the window at the city below. “Some nights are harder than others.”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to pry, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that tugged at you. “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You’d make a good therapist.”

“I’m just nosy,” You said lightly, hoping to draw out more of that smile.

And for a moment, it worked. He chuckled softly, the sound like a warm ember in the cold.

“Thanks,” He said after a beat. “For this. For letting me . . . just be here.”

“You say that like you’re intruding.”

“Aren’t I?”

“No,” You said firmly. “You’re not.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need filling. You’d grown used to these quiet stretches, knowing that sometimes words weren’t enough to smooth over the rough edges of the night.

After a while, he stood, setting the empty mug on the counter. “I should get going,” He said, his voice softer now.

“Be safe out there,” You say, facing him on your place on your chair, the words automatic but heartfelt.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. Then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows as seamlessly as he’d arrived.

A foggy evening, after his patrol, he arrived later than usual. His uniform was damp, and he looked more worn than you’d ever seen him.

When his eyes met yours, you let out an amused huff, walking to the closet in the hallway to your room, grabbing a beige towel and making your way back to him. “Take a dip in the lake Red?” You teased, handing him the towel as he stepped closer to you.

“Something like that,” He said, echoing the same vague answer he always gave. Even with the mask, you could feel the dam that wanted to implode.

Your brows furrowed.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

He looked at you sharply, as if the words had hit a nerve. “I’m used to it,” He said after a pause, his voice low and guarded.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be.”

The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut.

“I don’t… I can’t risk that,” He said finally. “Letting people in. It’s complicated.”

“Life’s complicated,” Your countered. “But you don’t have to keep everyone at arm’s length. At least not me.”

He stared at you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. Then, as if breaking under the weight of his own defenses, he said, “I wish it were that simple.”

You didn’t bring it up again, sensing it was a line he wasn’t ready to cross. But the moment lingered, coloring every interaction that followed.

You’d open up to him. Though it wasn’t as reciprocated, you didn’t mind because he listened. Sometimes, when the night was soft, you two would talk about the random things that reminded you of each other, it was your favorite part of when he’d come to your apartment, relaxing in each others presence; it left a sapid taste in your mouth.

You’d talk to him about your life in Gotham University, talked to him about the enigma your heart palpitated for. How his voice made your smile bright and cheeks warm, how it rang though your mind constantly throughout the day, echoing off the walls and finding it’s way back to your heart, the devil that wouldn’t calm down.

You hadn’t realized that underneath the mask, he looked at you with a smile lining his eyes, his own devil pounding in his chest.

When asked if he knew of your feelings, your smiled turned bashful.

“He doesn’t even know my name, Red. I’m just a random with a crush.”

You’re not random, you’re mine. Is what he wanted to say, he wanted you to know who he is. Not the man with the mask — rather the man behind it.

He distanced himself from you at school because he thought that if he didn’t, you’d figure out he’s ‘Boy Wonder’ a bit too easy for his taste. He scares himself every night thinking about what would happen if you find out.

And then one night, he laughed.

Not just the quiet chuckle you’d heard before, but a full, unrestrained laugh that lit up his face. It was over something stupid—a poorly told joke you’d heard from a coworker. But the sound warmed you to your core, and for a moment, it reminded you of your enigma, Tim Drake.

How could someone do that? Look so familiar but unknown at the same time? Your eyes seeing one person, Red Robin: Gotham’s hero. But your heart seeing, hearing, feeling—

“Tim.”

The name left your lips in a whisper, your heart hammering in your chest. You hadn’t meant to say it. You weren’t even sure how you knew, but it was there—like a puzzle piece falling into place.

He froze, his entire body going rigid. “What did you say?”

“Tim,” Quieter this time, you repeated it. “That’s—”

He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes confirmed it.

“I . . . I didn’t mean to—” You started, but he cut you off.

“How?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know,” You admitted. “I just . . . knew.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of what you’d just revealed.

Red Robin—Tim—he stepped back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to read the truth there. You could feel the tension in the room, thick and unyielding, and for a moment you thought he might leave. But instead, he sighed, his shoulders slumping as though a great weight had finally pressed him down.

“I’ve been careful,” he said softly. “I’ve spent so long making sure you — no one could ever connect me to . . . to this.”

You didn’t know what to say, the gravity of his words grounding you to the spot. Finally, you managed, “I didn’t mean to—to figure it out! It’s not like I was trying. It just . . .”

He ran a hand through his hair, the motion uncharacteristically unguarded. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have let this go on for so long.”

“Don’t say that,” You pleaded, stepping closer. “I know you think you’re protecting yourself, or me, but you don’t have to do this alone, Tim.”

Hearing his name in your voice seemed to shake something loose in him. He looked at you, really looked at you, and the mask of Red Robin slipped away for just a moment. Beneath it was someone young, someone tired, someone who wanted to believe you. The enigma who became more familiar.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know how to turn it off, how to let someone in without putting them in danger.”

You reached out, your hand hovering just above his arm. “You already let me in,” You said quietly. “That’s why you kept—” You stop yourself. “—that’s why you keep coming back.” Your hand connects with the rough material of his suit and you wish you could feel his skin on yours.

He didn’t pull away. For a long moment, the two of you stood there, the sound of rain against the window the only noise in the room.

Finally, he spoke. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”

You shook your head, your throat tight. “Don’t decide that for me.”

The words seemed to hit him like a blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Instead, he turned his head, staring at the rain running down the window as though it could give him the answers he sought.

“I’ve thought about it,” You continued, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve thought about what it would mean. What it would mean to care about you —really care about you. Even though it was for Tim at first, there’s more to you and I want to care for you and everything that comes with it. And I’m still here. I’ll always be here Tim.”

That seemed to break him. He sank down onto the edge of the couch behind him, his head in his hands. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. What my life is like. The people I go up against—they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you to get to me.”

“And you don’t understand what you could mean to me,” You countered. You sit on the floor, right at his feet so you can lock eyes with him even though his domino mask hides them, you can still see the blue of his eyes you admire so much.

“I see the risks, Tim. I see them every night when you walk out that window, not knowing if you’ll come back. But I’m still here because I care about you. And you need to stop deciding what I can handle.”

He looked up at you then, the walls he’d so carefully constructed were crumbling, and you saw the man behind the vigilante.

“I care about you too,” He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I should, and — and it scares the hell out of me.”

You rose from sitting criss-cross to your knees, resting your arms on his, you wanted to get impossibly closer, closing the gap between the two of you. “Then let’s be scared together.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and real, and for the first time, neither of you looked away. You didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if this thing between you could survive the dangers and secrets of his world. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

He reached for your hand, his touch tentative but warm. “This won’t be easy,” He warned you gently.

“I know,” You said, squeezing his hand. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled—not the practiced smile of Red Robin, but something softer, something real.

“I don’t deserve you,” He murmured.

“Maybe not,” You teased, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But you’ve got me anyway.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, the storm outside mirroring the quiet storm of emotions between you. And when he finally left that night, it wasn’t with the usual heaviness of his patrols.

This time, he carried a piece of you with him—and left a piece of himself behind.

©miwsolovely do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms . likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3

[timdrakesplacenta]

Happy holidays everyone!

(identity crisis #5)

[glamourscat]

It was 3am and you were supposed to be asleep, but after dating TIM DRAKE for almost two years now, you picked up on his weird sleeping patterns. Tonight in particular your brain won’t rest. Not until you will receive his usual post patrol message.

2am, then 2:30, 3 and 3:30am rolls around and your lack of sleep was slowly turning into anxiety. Why hadn’t he texted yet? Did something happened? You try to make sense of the situation, but your brain is refusing from making you think logically. And just as you were about to message him, his message comes through.

“sorry for the late message. had to run in the shower immediately after i arrived home cause i was covered in blood” he texts 

“not mine btw” he follows up, knowing already to clarify. 

“good, good. im glad you’re ok love, i was beginning to worry. what are you doing now then?” you text back, eyes fluttering at the screen waiting for those three dots to appear. But they don’t. In their place a picture appears. 

Him. In front of the mirror. His face covered by his phone, one arm on the sink leaning a bit to flex his muscles and that towel dangerously low, enough to see his v-line and the outline of his hardness against it. Oh….

“damn, drop the towel? 🙂‍↕️🙏🏻”  “for scientific purposes obviously…” you add in two consecutive texts. 

You know it’s unlikely he would do it, but teasing him comes naturally to y— he did it. You cannot even continue your train of thoughts because suddenly his next picture comes through. The towel gone, his pretty cock— and that damn blushy pink tip— staring right back at ya, hard against his stomach. 

You can’t even begin to form a coherent thought  as another picture comes through. 

This time he is on his bed, on his knees— which are open to show the view between his legs— His hungry, leaking, cock is begging to be touched; while his face now—no longer covered by the phone— looks at his phone through the mirror reflection with a knowingly devilish grin. And your mind goes to one thought, and one only, how desperately you wish to have a dick. Because he looks so damn breedable right now. 

“cause I don’t feel like I did it right the first time ;)” he texts back within seconds from sending that second picture. 

“hey…? you still there lol?” he texts back after 10,  long minutes without a reply from you. Did he overstep? Was it too much…?  But then the outdoor camera alerts him of a movement outside his front door. 

“im outside. open me up.”  ________________________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

A/N: I wrote this at 5AM and had the sudden, horny, urge of writing for Tim. Nothing else to add lmao. Also this is not proofread :(

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[ahqkas]

— gn!reader, suggestive content

the quiet hum of the computer was the only sound in the room as TIM DRAKE sat slouched in his spinning chair, his tired eyes glued to the screen. the dark circles that framed them betrayed the exhaustion he tried to hide. the desk was littered with blank papers, empty cups, and half-finished notes. you stood in the doorway, watching him, the flickering light of the screen casting shadows across his face.

“tim,” you called out into the dark room quietly as you took a step inside. the concern was dripping from your tone. “you’re still at it?”

the boy in question looked up and his eyes locked with yours. he offered you a small, tired smile that didn’t quite reach the corners of his eyes. “just a little more,” he muttered, his voice rough from hours of not talking. the way he rubbed his temples told you he was beyond the point if exhaustion.

you approached him, walking slowly across the room. as you came closer, the palm of your hand found its way to his shoulder, gently pressing down. the muscles there were tense beneath your touch, a sign of the pressure he’s been under. “tim,” your fingers traced along the muscle of his shoulder in a subtle attempt to ease the tension. “you need a break.”

his hand lifted and brushed against yours, fingers closing softly around your wrist. his touch was warm and comforting as his eyes found yours once again, but there was something different in their depths now—something softer, like he was finally allowing himself to stop pretending everything was fine. “i’ll take a break if you’re here.”

a small smile tugged at your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, brushing your lips over his in a sweet kiss.

the kiss deepened quickly, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. his touch was urgent now as if the weight of the past hours melted away in an instant once he was with you. one of his hands slid to the small of your back, long fingers splaying across the skin, while the other cupped your cheek in a gentle hold. the kiss grew more heated from this point.

you responded eagerly, your hands moving from his shoulders to his chest, fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his sweatshirt. he groaned softly into your mouth and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. you heart raced a little faster when you felt tim’s lips trailing down your neck along with his fingers sliding under your shirt, just grazing the curve of your bare back.

gasping softly at the contact, you urged him to kiss you again. his lips were back on yours in an instant, more desperate this time.

you couldn’t get enough of him—his hands, his lips, the way he handled you, like he needed this as much as he needed breathing. ( if he stopped, he’d simply parish ). you ran your hands down his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips, before you pulled his sweatshirt off, tossing it aside. tim let out a quiet breath at the sudden motion but he was back at worshiping you just as fast.

if he could, he’d swallow all of your sweetness, have you melt into his veins and let you flow through his system. he’d let you rot his teeth because only then he’d be convinced you’re real.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[tarta-de-limon]

I can't the image of 12 year old Jon serenading 15 year old Damien with one time by Justin Bieber out of my head, it's so funny

(12 year old Jon with his height being 5'7 making him look 15, Damien being 5'5 cuz being serenaded wasn't embarrassing enough we gotta add height difference)

(Jason being Jon's hype man halfway through cuz he wants nothing more than to embarrass to Damien even more)

(Damien just wants to die again)

THIS TOOK ME SO, SO LONG I'M SORRY-

I tried to do this animation like 3 times? But I was never satisfied with how it looked because IbisPaint sucks with animations (in my opinion) and I just wasn't in my... animator era??? Lmao.

Here it is!!!! I really hope you like it, despite the 'problems' I found the whole idea hilarious 😭✋💖

[priv-heree]

Just a reminder to y'all that Tim is actually THIS BUFF

I understand that as Robin he was a twink... But guys, he as Red Robin is just... just... 🫦🫦

Idk why in Fanfics people describe him as being so skinny

[disastertwins9000]

hello dc fandom here’s a civi red robin for your enjoyment

[mercifulmoon]

Timtim

[insonniacaotica]

Normal Person: *sees Death Note* I like this anime, I will recommend it to a friend

Tim Drake: This anime is genius. I will recreate the exploding drawer to hide my secret files

Bruce: I feel like I should be concerned but I'm just glad you decided to recreate the drawer and not the diary.

[soupcan420]

im once again in my tim drake era

[pfpanimes]

⌕ DC COMICS • tim drake.

like or reblog if you save/use.

[spocks-husband]

DICK TEACHING TIM TO MAKE SHITTY PUNS HELP MEEEEEE THEY'RE SO CUTE

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

There has never been enough of me (and I have nothing left to give)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1k

genre: fluff kinda, comfort

warnings: they're gonna talk abt their feelings, timmy and reader are both so judgy but they get through it, they are both keeping so many secrets

a/n: more timmy bc he's on the brain rn

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why a PI? Why not a cop or something?" Tim asks, feet swinging off the edge of the rooftop as he sits next to you.

"Never really had much respect for authority." You shrug.

"Can I ask you something else?" Tim continues. You huff out a laugh.

"You can ask me anything," you respond simply.

"You're way too smart for the work you do."

"That's not a question."

"You know what I mean, though."

"Ask me anyway. Say it," you respond, turning to look at Tim, eyes locking with his under the faint moonlight.

"Why do you waste your life and your talents chasing cheating, rich husbands around Gotham? You could do so much more." He says pointedly, a frown tugging at his lips. You turn away from him, tipping your head back to look up at the night sky as you sigh.

"Why do you think I'm a waste? Hm? Why do you think my life isn't worth it?" You ask plainly. Tim tenses next to you.

"I didn't mean that."

"But you did say it." You respond, tilting your head to look at Tim again as he opens and closes his mouth, searching for whatever words will make this right. You sigh again and lift your legs up, tucking them under you as you turn to face him in crisscross. You pointedly ignore the alarmed sound he makes and the way his hands shoot out at the idea of you moving around so close to the edge of the roof.

"What are you looking for here, Tim?" You ask firmly. Tim shifts, eyes wandering away from yours.

"What do you mean?" He mumbles, his gaze avoiding yours.

"It's just… people like you - they spend their whole life trying to make something of themselves - trying to be someone… thinking that their life is a waste unless they, I don't know, find some constant way to justify themselves and the space they take up. You look at your reflection and see yourself - see your worth based on that." Tim looks back at you, finally, lines etched in his forehead as he furrows his brows.

"People like us, you mean," he says gently - too gently for someone who was just insulted, you think bitterly.

"No," you shake your head. "No, I'm not like that."

"Yes you are, you've just… swung too far the other way." 

"No, I… don't push this, Tim." You turn away from him again, swinging your legs back over the edge of the rooftop and looking pointedly away from him.

"Do you ever think about the fact that you let your talents waste away because if you actually try, there's a chance of failing? If you try to actually be someone… actually do something, there's a possibility that you just didn't have all that talent that you thought you had?"

"Tim, I swear to god…"

"Because you're wrong, you know-"

"Tim," you snap. "…stop. You don't know everything about me. You don't know everything about my life or my job or why I've chosen to live the way I do or become the person I've become. And even if you did… you of all people have no right to judge me on this." You frown, hands clenched into fists on your lap as you stare at Tim intently. He sits up straighter at your words, his chin lifting defensively.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks wearily.

"Oh, come on," you sigh. "Rich boy who grew up in Wayne Manor, taking over his father's company? You can't… you can't say you're any different."

"You don't understand it," he says defensively.

"Then enlighten me," you quip back.

Tim opens his mouth, then closes it. I'm Red Robin, he wants to say. I've made something of myself. I couldn't possibly make more of myself.

"I'm…" he stops, eyes searching yours. "There are things you don't know about me or my life, either," is what he settles on.

"Well," you say stiffly, "maybe neither of us should judge, then."

"…I'm sorry."

"So am I."

Silence blankets the two of you, both of your faces tilted up to watch the clouds pass over the moon, cloaking you in darkness before bathing you in light again, and again, and again. Tim glances over at you, his brain going foggy at the way your eyes flutter closed and a sigh escapes your lips.

"What did you mean earlier?" he muses. You arch a brow questioningly, eyes still closed. "You asked me what I was looking for here. What did you mean?"

"I���" you open your eyes, turning to look at him with a vulnerability that makes him wish he could cover himself up more. "You… think you have succeeded where I've failed. You think you've made something of yourself and I've chosen not to - I think it's the other way around, but whatever. My point is… why are you here? With me? Do you… want to make something of me, too? Or do you want to be with someone who isn't anything, so that you can get away from trying to be something? Because either way, I don't like that. I won't be with someone who sees me like that."

Tim looks at you for a long while, his expression softening in a way that makes you shift, feeling naked under his gaze.

"Maybe I like being with you because I feel like, no matter what I do, I'll never make enough of myself, " he says quietly. "And maybe it's just nice being with someone who sees themself the same way. Maybe you just make me feel seen and heard and… maybe you make me feel like I'm enough."

"Oh," you say haltingly. "…oh."

"And maybe," he continues, taking your hand gently in his to press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. "Maybe we could both learn to be a little less defensive." You huff out a relieved laugh at his words, burying your face in the hand not holding his.

"And maybe a little less judgemental," you add. Tim laughs.

"Yea, that too… that, too."

[tarta-de-limon]

Sketch

[angrymiauu]

MAGICAL GIRL TRANSFORMATION PT.2 !!!!!!!!

Remake of this

AU by @bloomeng

sorry i am incredibly autistic about ur au. im insane.

i was going to color it but this is my first time animating AT ALL so im so sorry 😞 i love u tim drake

[priv-heree]

Tim Drake as Robin is so twink, i can't-