✯ starlight ✯

❝𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙞𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚.❞ -𝙉.𝙇.

[er-osion]

✩ entering heaven and falling back down to hell ‘cause i’m like an angel if they were terrible ✩

⤷♚ she/they

⤷♚ mbti: intj

⤷♚ Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities

⤷♚ raging nerd

✩✩ master list……… shit-posts ………

“let me enfold thee / and hold thee to my heart” (Macbeth, Act I, Sc. IV)

[er-osion]

Double Life

pairing:  Kaz Brekker x gn!University student!Reader

summary:  Kaz Brekker lives two lives, one as the Bastard of the Barrel, and one secret one as your devoted boyfriend; he’s rich in more than just money.

word count:  3.4k

warnings:  none, fluff

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Tonight, for some inexplicable reason, Kaz was feeling extra peppy.  Maybe his week had just been better than most.  Maybe the sun had actually shone for a few days.  Maybe he’d actually been getting decent sleep and reaping the benefits.  Whatever may have been the cause, all Kaz knew was that he was in an indecipherable but subtle good mood.  It was this extra elation, this lightness in his step, that brought out the romantic side of him that he always refused to acknowledge.  

Kaz visited you as often as he could, considering the complexity of his schedule and the rigidity of yours.  Often, when he did come over you were in the middle of homework or studying and so the majority of your time spent together ended up being the two of you working on your respective projects in the living room, sitting closely and sharing cups of tea and snacks.  Less often, the both of you were free at the time Kaz was available to visit and the two of you would have each other’s undivided attention for a little date night in.  It was always Kaz who visited you, never the other way around, purely for your safety; he couldn’t have you wandering around the Barrel and possibly be discovered as connected emotionally to him.  Because, as much as he’s loath to admit it, Kaz Brekker is very much emotionally connected to you.  Ever since you came into his life, his thoughts and feelings have been yours without fail.  Your happiness and security have become the most primary concerns in his life, even if externally his priorities remain krudge and domination of the market.  And even if it made it harder to see each other when only one person could initiate the visits, in Kaz’s mind, it was well worth it to provide that extra layer of protection to you—considering you’ve taken up arguably one of the most dangerous jobs in Ketterdam, which is to date the Bastard of the Barrel.

Tonight, it was the wee hours of the morning.  Kaz had closed the Crow Club a couple of hours ago and then settled some pressing work in his office and now he was making his way home to you.  Yes, home.  Because that’s what you were now.  When Kaz pictured coming home from work, whether that was at the Club or on a job, he pictured your apartment and best of all he pictured you.  Kaz wandered over to one of the little grocery stores that didn’t open for another few hours and went ahead and stealthily broke in.  He made quick work of grabbing a bouquet of flowers and some strawberries and put some krudge in the register, just because he was feeling generous, and slipped back onto the street.  Kaz hid the bouquet in his coat and held the box of strawberries in his hand.

Kaz entered your apartment through the back window, as he almost always did, and landed inside as quietly as he could given his cane.  The apartment was dark, save for the light filtering in from the slowly rising sun, and the air was still and calm.  Kaz’s lips twitched as he took in the familiar sight of your apartment, everything looked so dreamlike and perfect every time he was here.  Since it was so early, Kaz knew you were still asleep, and he didn’t want to wake you so he set himself to work in your kitchen and living room.  First, he put the bouquet in a vase and set it prettily on the counter.  Then he put the strawberries in the fridge and checked the calendar you had taped to it so he could see what you had going on today.  After that, Kaz wandered quietly about the rest of your apartment, tidying up here and there where he could.  Kaz wanted you to wake up with some of your chores already done so you’d have just one less thing on your shoulders today.  He wanted you to wake up to a nice clean space and the knowledge that there was someone there looking after you.  It gave him a strange sense of pride to be able to do things like this for you.  Kaz had never really considered himself to be the caring type, but for some reason, it was more of an instinct than behavioral condition when it came to you.  And even more strange, it brought Kaz an odd sense of satisfaction and pleasure to take care of you and anticipate your needs before you ever had to voice them.

Once his little round of cleaning was done, Kaz decided it was time for bed.  He ambled to your bedroom and carefully slipped inside, moving as quietly as possible to avoid waking you up.  In the dark, Kaz dressed in his pajamas, a loose fitting long sleeve shirt and pants combo, that he kept extra pairs of in the drawer of your dresser that was now devoted to him.  Once dressed, Kaz turned around and took a moment to observe you from the foot of your bed.  You were fast asleep, but even in the dark, Kaz could make out your peaceful features and the slow rise and fall of your chest.  Finally seeing you again after what felt like an eternity when realistically it was only several hours, made something tight in Kaz’s chest knock loose.  For a second he forgot how to breathe, then recovered and breathed better than he had during the whole time he’d spent without you.

Kaz slipped into his side of the bed, his side because that’s how permanent you viewed his position in your life, and pulled the covers up to his chest.  There were pillows that drew a line down the middle of the bed to help prevent unknowing contact while you both slept and Kaz couldn’t help the way his heart stuttered at the idea of you setting that up just in the hope that he would come during the night.  It was always the little things that got to him.  All the little ways you told him you loved him without even trying.  He’d never met someone who made loving him look so easy and he only hoped he was just as good as presenting his own feelings to you the way you did to him.  

Kaz turned his head to look at you a little closer before falling asleep.  He let his eyes trace the outline of your face in the dark, though he didn’t really need any light as he’d memorized your features long ago.  Kaz just stared for a couple of minutes before he let himself drift off into a blissful sleep.

When you woke up, it was to the delightful surprise of your boyfriend beside you in bed.  The sight instantly made your day and brought out a stupidly happy grin.  Kaz was fast asleep, and you were glad of it, knowing how rarely he got decent sleep.  His long dark lashes rested softly on his pale cheeks.  His lips were slightly parted and his dark hair fell haphazardly onto the pillow.  You had to fight the urge to run your hands through his hair and kiss his nose because he was just so cute like this, but you really didn’t want to wake him up, so you settled for just looking at him in the soft morning light.

You only got to look at him for a few minutes though, before you had to force yourself out of bed to get ready for the day.  Today, you only had one morning lecture for two hours.  You knew Kaz would probably still be asleep when you came back, but just in case, you left a note on the nightstand next to him explaining where you were.  When you walked into the kitchen to get ready to go, your heart stuttered at the sight of the fresh bouquet sitting gloriously on your counter.  As if your day couldn’t be off to a better start, that man just had to go and get you flowers. Saints, you were so in love with him.

You had been right about your predictions about the state of your boyfriend when you got back from your lecture.  When you walked, quietly, into your bedroom, Kaz was still deep asleep.  You put your house clothes on, making as little noise as humanly possible and took a minute to soak in the sight of the Bastard of the Barrel, as relaxed as he’d probably ever be, curled in your bedsheets.  You then wandered back to the living room to do a little work without risking waking Kaz up.

You were in the middle of revising some lecture notes when you heard the tell tale sound of a cane thumping softly on your aging floor, a small smile grew on your lips at the sound.  You didn’t say anything as Kaz entered the room, deciding to let him break the silence.  On one hand, this strategy would give you a clue right off the bat what type of mood he was in, and on the other, it was a selfishly cunning way of reminding yourself of his interest in you.

“Morning,”  came the gruff voice of your boyfriend after he’d settled down in the loveseat that faced where you were planted on the couch.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,”  you greeted back with a teasing lilt that brought a harmless scoff out of the brunette in front of you.  You set your pen down on your notebook.  “Thank you for the flowers by the way, and the strawberries, and putting the dishes away.”  Even just remembering the gifts you’d woken up to this morning made your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

“It’s nothing,”  Kaz tried to brush off unaffectedly, but you knew him well enough to know that he’d tucked your thanks away in a special compartment in his heart left solely for you.

“How long do I have you today?”  you asked simply, still, the question made Kaz’s chest tighten.  It wasn’t the first time Kaz had heard you ask that question, in fact, that was usually one of the first few things you asked him whenever he showed up to your apartment.  You never meant it maliciously, not in the slightest, you just wanted to know if there was any need for you to amend your schedule so you could prioritize your time with your boyfriend, or if there was going to be enough wiggle room to maintain your original plans without jeopardizing your time with Kaz.  And really, Kaz found the logistical question oddly sweet.  It was one of the many ways you showed him how important he was in your life, by literally reorganizing your day around him when need be.  It was thoughtful and caring; two words Kaz didn’t normally associate with the way others treated him.  Yet, the question was also always taken in with some melancholy.  In those same gentle words was a reminder that your time together was inherently limited.  Whether it be in two hours or two days, Kaz would eventually have to slink back to the shadows of the Barrel and resume his grim life as Dirtyhands.  Kaz couldn’t pretend he wasn’t who he was, even when he existed in the safe bubble of your home, which meant always having to return to reality at some point.  

It was a brutal cycle that tore Kaz apart on the inside every time he had to repeat it.

But maybe one day, he wouldn’t have to leave.  Maybe one day, when Kaz called this place his home, he wouldn’t mean it in the purely metaphorical sense.  Maybe one day, you wouldn’t have to ask him how long he was staying this time.

“I don’t have to be back at the club until the evening,”  Kaz answered.

“After dinner?”

Kaz’s lips twitched like it was a reflex to smile around you and he was still getting used to it.  “Yes, after dinner.”

You grinned mischievously, like you’d just hatched a heist instead of confirming dinner plans with your lover.  You put your notebook on the coffee table and adjusted yourself to sit in a more comfortable position to face Kaz.  “And how was your day, yesterday?”

Kaz shrugged as he slightly mimicked you in adjusting his posture, “Fine enough.  Busy, but successful, I suppose.  Yourself?”

You shrugged in turn, “Also busy, but I’m sure in a different way than you.”

“Tell me what you did.”  His voice wasn’t commanding, but it still held that authority that was ever present when he spoke, even in whispers during nights shared just between the two of you.  You didn’t have to be asked twice though, you rattled off about the day you’d had yesterday, including as many minute and unnecessary details as possible, because you knew Kaz just liked to hear you talk.  And Saints, did he like to hear you talk.  If he didn’t have so much pride, he would hand you a dictionary and ask you to read it to him, just so he could sink into the melody of your voice.

“Do you want anything to drink?  You hungry?”  you asked him after you’d finished your narrative, your voice taking on that nurturing tone it took whenever you were trying to get Kaz to engage in self care.  He was thirsty, and he was hungry, but he wasn’t going to say anything and make you get up to take care of him; until you got up yourself and he could tell by your body language that you were meaning to anyway.

“Some coffee would suffice,”  he said simply, still not wanting to burden you with his desires, no matter how many times now you’d nearly begged him to lean more on you.

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, clearly not believing that a cup of coffee was all he wanted.  “And?”

He rolled his eyes and forced down a smirk at your smart attitude.  “Some food might also be enjoyable,”  he drawled with a lordly look that made your stomach do flips.

“Wanna make crepes?”

“Is that really a question?”

You laughed and strolled into the small kitchen, getting out the ingredients required for the crepes.  Kaz took his time rising from the plush chair and ambling into the kitchen behind you.  He began to make the coffee while you finished laying out everything for the meal.  The two of you made the crepes in a lazy and love filled haze, the recipe having been memorized ages ago, and the two of you taking more pleasure in making the food together than actually eating it.  When the crepes were done, you and Kaz ate them slowly on stools perched at your counter, the afternoon sun filtering in through windows across the apartment.  It was the tastiest meal either of you had had since the last time you’d eaten together.  When the plates had been scraped clean, Kaz made a move to get up and clean up for you, but you were faster, and beat him in the race to grab the dirty plates and take them to the sink.  You felt Kaz’s benign glare on your back as you washed the plates he was supposed to take care of, it just made you smile harder.

“Has anyone ever told you how cute you look when you’re irritated?”  you poked teasingly when you stole a glance at Kaz’s expression from over your shoulder.  You were met with instant satisfaction when his eye twitched.

“Can’t say they have, no,”  Kaz bristled after a beat.  You went back to the dishes and a warm silence enveloped the apartment, only disrupted by the soft sound of running water and the scratch of a sponge against porcelain.  Kaz noticed you were almost done and so he got up and wandered back to the living room, where instead of returning to his loveseat, he sunk into the middle of the couch, watching and waiting to catch your eye when you turned around.  Putting the dishes in the rack to dry, you pivoted with the intention of sitting down once again since you’d heard Kaz walk away from the counter.  You immediately found Kaz’s piercing gaze already firmly settled on you, and when you cocked your head in silent invitation to share whatever scheme it was you saw forming in his head, he wordlessly patted the cushion next to him.  Your brows furrowed, but not unhappily, at the plain motion but didn’t wait for him to verbally expand.  You waltzed over to the couch, and in one swift, natural movement, you placed a small throw pillow along the seam of the cushion as you plopped down, a small barrier to keep your knees from accidentally touching Kaz and triggering him.  The pillow’s placement did not go unnoticed by Kaz, who’s heart lurched at the thoughtfulness and love in one simple gesture.

Sometimes, in the most unexpected and unassuming moments, Kaz is pummeled by the earth shaking love he has for you.

It has been a good week.  It’s been a good day.  He’s feeling more recharged than he has in months.  He feels safe.  He feels secure.  He feels like if he can’t be brave right now, he’ll never succeed in anything else in his life.  He needs to be courageous, if not selfishly for him, then selflessly for you.

Kaz moves so slowly it’s almost like he’s not moving at all.  But you saw the look in his eyes.  You saw the undisguised, all consuming desire and desperation shining in those brown irises before he began leaning in.  You saw the way his hand clenched the pillow at his folded knee in a white knuckle grip, practically shaking with emotions that surely conflicted with each other.  You knew what he wanted to do, what he was trying to do, so you stayed still as a statue.  In moments like this, you tried to relinquish all control to Kaz so he was as comfortable as possible; the control helped him keep from getting swept up in the waves.  And Kaz knew this, he knew you sat there like stone in an attempt to help him fight the war that raged within, it only increased the yearning to kiss you tenfold.

Sometimes, in moments like this, the tension became so high and so taught, that you had to close your eyes and hold your breath.  Otherwise, it felt like you’d shatter reality and nothing would ever be the same again.  It was the most thrilling feeling you knew.

Then, mercilessly, Kaz’s lips brushed your cheek in the most featherlight touch that for a second you weren’t sure it was even there.  But the kiss lingered, his soft lips grazing your skin so delicately and tenderly that it was damn near explicit.  Your breath caught in your throat and the sound was captured by Kaz’s attentive ears and immediately sent a bolt of lightning through his body.  He was practically shaking, so many feelings pent up and suppressed in one glorious moment.  

The kiss lasted centuries.  And when he finally pulled away, you felt dizzy and he felt delirious.  The water lapped at his feet and stayed there, and Kaz felt a sense of accomplishment flood him in a way no heist could ever.  Then his gaze traveled from the spot on your cheek where he’d just felt beneath his lips to your eyes, and the unadulterated pride that gleamed in them felt like the best sucker punch he’d ever received.  The look on your face made him want to plant his lips all over your face, made him want to kiss you like he was trying to eat you alive.  It was so easy to get lost in you.

“You’re my favorite thing about life,”  Kaz confessed in a voice so bare that your mouth dried up.

“You’re my favorite reason for living,”  you replied, the candor of your tone and in your eyes rocked Kaz’s world.

Kaz didn’t care that he’d have to leave in a few hours.  He didn’t care about the ruthless world lying in wait just outside your window.  He didn’t care about whatever it was Ketterdam was calling out for the Bastard of the Barrel at this moment.  He cared about this moment, right here: being suffocated with your love and loving you.

[er-osion]

Experimental Efforts

pairing:  Jason Todd x gn!researcher!Reader

summary:  Reader is a researcher that Red Hood sometimes seeks out for help on a specific case.  While your relationship should be purely professional, when Red Hood finds you crying after a bad day, he must do his best to comfort you (even though he honestly doesn’t really know how)

word count:  3.7k

warnings:  hurt/comfort

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It had just been one of those weeks.  One of those weeks where every day is inexplicably worse than the last.  It didn’t even have to be something big, every minor little inconvenience and set back felt like a personal attack.  By the end of the week, you were barely holding it together.  Every step was laborious, every effort exerted for work was crushing, and every interaction with someone was like being punched over and over again.  

The only true solace you had was your lab.  Your own private lab on the fifth floor, a space where you could work in silence and be unbothered.  Honestly, your only other oasis could be your home, but your mind has been so caught up in everything going on outside your apartment, you haven’t even been able to think much of your comfy bed or squishy couch.  So, here you are, trying to desperately grasp at any sort of respite from your ever sinking mind in your lab.

You're sitting at one of your lab tables, eyes flickering between the stack of papers in front of you and your computer screen.  Currently, you’re transferring data from a recent experiment from your manual logs into your computer, a tedious task but sometimes it’s therapeutic, like right now, when it’s the only thing keeping your breathing even.  Then, like the universe is playing some sick joke on you, as you're inputting the last set of values for one of your tables, an accidental misclick causes the entire page to delete.

You blink.  You can’t even process what just happened for several seconds, mind so worn out and naturally wanting to refuse to acknowledge any more misfortune.  But the pearly white, black doc standing right in front of you is hard to ignore, especially when just a minute ago it had been full of tables filled with data that had taken you several hours to input.  Your body is completely rigid as tears start to well up in your eyes.  Your breathing becomes labored and every inch of you is begging to scream until your lungs deflate but you don’t even have the energy to open your mouth.  Slowly, as if even they are lethargic, tears begin to drip down your cheeks.  You can’t move, can’t speak, can’t even collapse over your table to have a good sob, you’re just frozen there, small tears gliding down your face.

And of course, it’s in this most perilous of states, that you hear the distinct thud of boots on your floor.  But not just any boots, his boots.

You wouldn’t say you were exactly working with the Red Hood, as that would imply some sort of continuous and steady relationship, but you also weren’t not working with him, exactly.  It was weird.  Sometimes, he’d show up to your lab if he needed help on a certain part of some case he was working on.  He never gave you details beyond what you needed to do your investigating and you never asked any unnecessary questions.  For one, this boundary was crucial to your safety, since the less you knew the less you were involved.  But, fewer questions and answers also kept a certain distance between the two of you, a distance that you sometimes needed reminding of when a hunk of a man came scaling a building to seek you out, specifically, for your skills and knowledge, at ungodly hours in the night.

Tonight though, it was a little earlier, probably around midnight.  That had been intentional on Jason’s part.  A few weeks ago, he’d had a sudden epiphany that he was disturbing you too late in the night, and the least he could do when asking for your help on a case was bother you at an hour that wasn’t so offensive.  Jason was secretly a little excited to get your help for this project.  The task he was asking for your help on was focused on an area of your studies he knew you particularly liked: you’d rambled about it to him a few months ago so he knew how invested you were in this area of your field.  Thus, he was sure you were going to be a little more excited than usual to work on this experiment.

Whenever Jason entered your lab, he always made a show of landing his boots on the ground to alert you that not only was he here, but it wasn’t some rando who’d broken into your lab.  It was his odd way of ringing the doorbell or knocking before entering.

When he snuck into your lab today, he noticed how almost all of the lights were off except for the overheads over a specific table approximately in the middle of the room.  He wandered over slowly, taking his time to look at the different doodads and thingamabobs you had set up all over your work space.  

As you heard his approach get closer and closer, you snapped out of your stupor and quickly wiped the tears from your face.  He couldn’t see you like this.  Vulnerability was something that felt off-limits between the two of you, and crying in front of the Red Hood definitely broke that rule.  Plus, you couldn’t help but feel a little silly if you were to cry in front of him, the Red Hood, the guy who went out every night expecting to get shot and/or stabbed.  He’d probably laugh at you and call you weak if he saw you crying over something as silly as a ‘long week’.

“Hey, genius,”  Hood said in his typical greeting, his voice sounding a little funky from the modulator.

“What can I help you with this time, Hood?”  You asked politely, getting straight to the point.

Hood moved to stand next to you and placed a thick file folder on the table next to your stack of work papers, “Think you’re gonna like this one,”  he claimed, almost pridefully.

You picked up the file and began flitting through the various reports and notes that were meant to debrief you on what the Red Hood needed from you.  He was right, usually, you would’ve instantly lightened up and started blabbering excitedly, since the project was clearly on a subject matter in which you especially excelled.  But today wasn’t any other day, so you couldn’t even crack a satisfied smile.

Jason clocked your reaction immediately, or more accurately, your lack thereof.  Beneath his helmet, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he had to brush off the slight pang of disappointment at your clear lack of enthusiasm.

“How quickly do you need this done?”  You questioned in a monotone and tired voice.

Hood was silent for a second, quietly perturbed by your change in attitude, “A couple of weeks would be nice, y’know, always the sooner the better but I understand your process.”

You nodded, still sifting through the file.  Then, you abruptly got up from your chair and muttered a ‘hold on’ before wandering to some other corner of your lab.  Jason’s head tilted in confusion but he stayed rooted in his spot as you’d told him to.

The main reason you’d gotten up was to gather some supplies but also to get away from Red Hood for just a second.  You still felt like you could barely breathe and just needed a moment in a quiet, dark corner to try to collect yourself so you didn’t burst into tears in front of one of Gotham’s most infamous vigilantes.  You spent the next few minutes silently going between your table where Hood was stationed and various corners of your lab to gather this and that to begin organizing your new case.

At some point though, you were grabbing some beakers when your hand slipped and the glass fell from your grasp and shattered all over your table.  You froze, and the shattering of your breaker was emblematic of the destruction of whatever final composure you still had.  You crumbled to the ground in slow motion as tears began rushing down your face, your broken sobs were so quiet you could barely hear them yourself, but the way your body shook and the way your whole soul felt like it was splintering told you that this was very much real.  You curled in on yourself, letting the legs of the table support your whole body weight as you rested in an uncomfortable position on the floor.  But you couldn’t care less about the discomfort, in fact, in some sort of sick way, it was comforting. You just wanted to finally indulge in the pain you’d been feeling all week, even if that meant quietly crying on the floor of your lab.

Jason had the glass shatter, because of course he had, and had instantly rushed over to the origin of the sound.  He figured it must’ve just slipped out of your hand and he wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt, what he didn’t expect to find was you curled up in a ball on the floor, your body shaking with the telltale signs of crying.  And now that he was closer, he could hear the quiet sniffles and the gasping for breath.  Jason stilled, because, shit, he didn’t know what to do.  He could barely handle himself when he was having a breakdown and he definitely wasn’t used to comforting someone else when they were upset.  

He’d never seen you like this before.  You’re always so composed, so in control, it’s one of the things he admires about you.  He honestly never really considered you could have bad days too, and now that he’s coming face to face with that, he wasn’t really sure what to do, all he knew was that he wanted it to stop.  And he didn’t want you to stop crying because he thought it was annoying, no, he wanted you to stop because for some inexplicable reason, seeing you sad was restricting something in his chest and really upsetting him.

Jason called your name quietly, scared that a loud volume might hurt you more, but you didn’t seem to hear him so he called again a bit louder this time.  On the second attempt, you apparently heard him, as your head inched up just a little so your eyes could peak out from above your folded arms and get a look at the vigilante towering above you.  The sight of your red, tear brimmed eyes, felt like a punch to Jason’s stomach.

“You good?”  Hood finally mustered out.  Great going Jason, ask the person on the floor crying in front of you if they’re “good”, ‘cause that answer isn’t obvious at all.

You blinked, both shocked at the question and a little uncertain how to answer. With a mirthless laugh and the saddest crack of a smile Jason’s ever seen you replied, “Yeah, totally.”

Hood sighed, a sound you’ve never heard him make before, and moved to plant himself on the ground in front of you.  “Sorry, that was a stupid question.  I heard glass break, are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I just dropped a breaker, it’s no biggie.”

“You sure?  How’s your hand?”  Hood reached out his hand, silently ordering you to extend your own so he could examine it.  You did exactly that and the both of you quickly noticed the shard of glass sticking out of your palm.  Your eyes widened and suddenly a wave of pain and nausea hit you.  You guessed you’d been so caught up in your emotions and the adrenaline of your breakdown that you hadn’t noticed the fact you’d been cut by the broken glass.  But setting your eyes on the wound triggered the pain signals your brain had been ignoring and now you were adding another layer of hurt on top of everything you were already feeling.

A choked sound escaped you and you somehow folded even more in on yourself.  A shiver ran down Jason’s spine at the sound.  Hood slowly moved to rest your hand in one of his gloved ones and then used his other hand to feel gently around the shard of glass to try and see how far it was settled in your skin.  Seeing the Red Hood like this was giving you whiplash.  Everything about him looked scary, and tough, and unforgiving, but here he was handling your hand like it was even more breakable than the glass you’d just shattered.

“I gotta get this out,”  he spoke authoritatively.  You nodded absentmindedly, you knew him saying that was more to warn you of what he was about to do and less to ask your opinion about it.  “Stay right here, don’t move,”  Hood said in a rush as he got up to retrieve a first aid kit.

“‘M not going anywhere,”  You muttered, eyes fixed on the offending shard of glass currently sticking out of your palm.  The longer you looked, the sicker you felt, but you just could not remove your eyes from the scene.

Hood made quick work of grabbing the first aid kit, probably not wanting to leave you alone for very long.  He resettled himself in front of you and procured your hand once again.  “This is going to hurt a little, I’m not exactly a doctor,”  Hood said quietly, and even with the voice modulator, you thought you could pick up on a softness that you would never pair with a man who carried guns on his hips.

Red Hood began carefully removing the glass shard from your palm, showing a level of precision and care you’ve never seen from him.  You hissed in pain as he pulled it out and you heard a barely audible couple of ‘sorry’s as he worked.  When the glass was out, Hood expertly wrapped your hand in bandages, and once he’d finished, he gently pressed two gloved fingers into the area of your palm that hadn’t been roughed by the glass, silently telling you he was done and there was nothing to worry about anymore.  But even with your hand now taken care of, the tears were still freeflowing and you still felt just as depressed as you had before all of this had happened.

The silence of the lab was only broken by your muffled sobs, which sounded almost offensively loud against the noiseless backdrop of your sterile work space.  Jason shifted his weight, his mind racing to try to figure out what to do with you.  A wound, he could fix, he was familiar with handling physical injuries, but emotional ones were a different territory entirely—one he typically avoided like his life depended on it.

“What’s—uh, what’s going on?”  Hood asked after a while of the two of you just sitting silently while you cried.  You made a sound that was something akin to a laugh; Hood sounded more lost than you were.  But still, you didn’t know how to put into words what was going on inside your head so you remained silent, something that seemingly did not sit well with the vigilante in front of you.  “Look, I don’t know what happened, but if there’s something I can do to help, I want to do that.  I mean, you do realize that helping people is technically my whole job.  But I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s going on, and as fantastic as I am, I can’t read minds so I do need you to start the conversation off.”

This time you looked at him, and really looked at him.  You couldn’t make out any expressions and it was hard to determine tone with his helmet, but you could pick up clues with his body language and you were getting the feeling that he really did want to help.  Maybe he really didn’t like seeing you in distress.

“I’m sorry,”  you finally strangled out, “I don’t know… I just–”  you had to bite back another round of sobs, “It’s just been a shit week, and, I don’t know, I guess I just couldn’t fight it anymore.”  Suddenly you felt extremely embarrassed to be seen in this state by Red Hood, and even worse, you couldn’t discern how he was reacting to any of this because of that goddamn helmet.

Hood was silent for a moment, trying to figure out what the right thing to say was.  Then, with an effort, he scooched a little closer, “Everyone has weeks like those, it’s not something you should feel sorry for.”  Even with the modulator, there was something very comforting about the way he spoke slowly, letting each of his words land and stick in your mind.

“I know that, but, fuck, it’s hard,”  you blustered.  Another wave of frustration hit you and a cascade of tears followed suit, “I’m sorry, Hood, I’m sure you have better things to be doing than this; you really don’t have to stay, I’m not trying to keep you here.”

For some reason, this struck a nerve with Jason.  Why wouldn’t he be here?  He’s supposed to help people, right?  And you’re clearly struggling and he knows you and he knows that he doesn’t like seeing you upset.  So, again, why wouldn’t he be here?  And to be honest, it was easy for Jason to forget what was going on outside when you were here, crying in front of him.  The rest of Jason’s deranged family could handle Gotham for an hour or so while he stayed put with you.

Unsure of how to reassure you that you had support, Jason inched closer.  You couldn’t tell what Hood’s next move was going to be, but you definitely didn’t expect him to wrap his large, armored arms around you and pull you into his chest.  Your tear stained cheek met the hard plane of his armor and his arms further encircled you in an almost protective manner. 

You stilled in his arms, having totally been caught off guard by the movement.

“Sorry, this isn’t usually the type of scene I clean up, but… you looked like you could use a hug,”  Hood offered in explanation of his uncharacteristic behavior.

You laughed, a real one this time, albeit weak and soft.  You wrapped your arms around Hood and tightly gripped his leather jacket.  You practically buried yourself further into him, the large and all encompassing presence feeling very comforting and reassuring. 

“Thanks,”  you whispered into his neck, and Jason suddenly found himself desperately hoping that the armor he was wearing could conceal the way his heart had just aggressively fluttered.

“No problem,”  he answered gruffly, his arms subconsciously tightening their hold on you.

Hood held you like that for an unknown amount of time, but you guessed at least twenty minutes, letting you quietly cry out a week’s worth of pent-up emotions and frustrations.  At some point, Red Hood started running a gloved hand up and down your spine, a movement that effectively helped calm your breathing and caused you to lean further into him, if that was even possible. 

Jason didn’t care how long he had to sit here with you, he’d gladly have sat on that cold floor for days if it got you in a better mood.  

After a while, your crying finally died down and you finally felt less depressed than you were before.  You were absolutely exhausted, emotionally drained and out of strength, but, for the first time all day, you felt like you might actually be able to smile.

After a few minutes of no sobs or sniffling, Hood softly broke the silence, “Feelin’ any better?”

You breathed, a sound that rattled through your chest like it was the first breath you’d taken in ages, “Yes, thank you.”

“I really am sorry you had such a shit week.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be disappointed that you feel so bad.”  This whole time, Red Hood hadn’t stopped rubbing your back and a part of you started wishing you were still crying so there wasn’t a chance for him to stop.

“Maybe you should start playing good cop more often, might be more effective at deescalating a situation than your typical strategies,”  you joked with a very small smile, and Jason instantly felt like he had won something.

“Maybe,”  he muttered absently, still focused on the high of seeing you smile for the first time all day.  A comfortable silence then settled over the two of you, your head still buried in Hood’s neck and his hand still soothingly running up and down your spine. 

Some time passed before Red Hood broke the silence again, “I think you should take a day off.”

"Tomorrow's Saturday, that’s kind of already the plan,”  you pointed out, and if you had been a little bit more energetic, Hood would’ve accused you of being sarcastic.

“I mean a real day off, one where you don’t do anything work related.  Just a whole day for yourself, a day to relax,”  Hood elaborated, and even with the helmet, you could feel him roll his eyes.

“Mmm,” you hummed thoughtfully, “that’d be nice.”

“Bet it would.”

“You ever take your own advice, Mr. Hood?”

“Hey now, this ain’t about me,”  Red Hood poked you lightly in the side and you chuckled. “You ready to call it a night, genius?”

You nodded, almost reluctantly, “Yeah.”

Red Hood nodded and very slowly unwound his arms from your frame and helped you get up.  You immediately missed the warmth your vigilante had provided.  Jason was also facing the same conundrum when the two of you got up off of the floor.

“Need a ride?”  Red Hood offered as you began packing up your things.

“Nah, I don’t live far and you’ve probably got patrol to get back to.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure, I could use the walk anyway.”  You turned to face Red Hood with an appreciative smile and he nodded in understanding.  From there the two of you parted ways.  You enjoyed walking home, using the air and the walk to clear your head and tire your racing mind out before going to bed.  Unbeknownst to you, Jason trailed you from the rooftops, making sure you made it home safe.  Once he was sure you were safely in your apartment, Jason made a mental note to check in on you more often, he didn’t want his favorite researcher to suffer any more bad days without someone there to help pick up the pieces.

[er-osion]

party 4 u

pairing:  fratboy!Dick Grayson x gn!Reader

summary:  [no capes AU] Dick Grayson, the most well-liked and academically gifted frat guy on your campus gets paired up with you for a history project.  Dick had never even realised you’d existed before this project, but there’s nothing like a presentation and essay worth 10% of your grade to bring two strangers together.

word count:  12k

warnings:  alcohol/weed mentions, sexual innuendo/talk, swearing, fluff

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

Dick Grayson was probably the most well-known name at your school.  Every student and faculty member knew who he was; simultaneously the most envied, adored, and despised man on campus simply because there didn’t seem to be a single thing he wasn’t capable of.  Life of the party for his frat?  Check.  One of the top students in his year?  Check.  Old money family supporting him financially and emotionally?  Check.  Looks that were handcrafted by Eros?  Check, check, check.  The fucker had it all.

You’ve had several classes with Dick over the years, but you’ve never officially met.  All these classes tended to be pretty big since they were GE classes and Dick always walked into the room already knowing somebody, so there was never a real reason for the two of you to speak in class.  Then, with his active life outside of class, and your own interests and hobbies, the two of you didn’t have many chances to cross paths outside the classroom setting.  Of course, you knew who he was, you’d have to be living under a rock not to, but you also knew Dick had no idea who you were.  And maybe a part of you was a little hurt by that, but it was stupid to admit that; it was useless dwelling on the fact that the most attractive guy you’ve ever seen has been in class with you for years now and definitely has no clue who you are.

And maybe that was why you were secretly thrilled when your history professor announced that he was assigning partners for the upcoming project for your midterm.  Your professor announced your pairing with Dick and you watched him subtly look around, clearly trying to locate you without actually knowing what you looked like or where you sat.  You opted to make things easier for the both of you, and moved yourself and your stuff to the chair that had been vacated a few minutes ago when his friend moved to sit with his new project partner.

You slid into the seat next to Dick with ease, even though you felt your nerves spiking.  You felt his eyes on you, sizing you up as you rearranged all your stuff on the desk.  Finally, you turned to him, and dammit, he was even more gorgeous up close.  You internally told your heart to take a chill pill, and proceeded to introduce yourself.  It took Dick a second to process your sudden appearance beside him, but he quickly recovered, introducing himself likewise and eagerly sticking out a hand for you to shake.  You raised a brow and huffed a quiet but amused chuckle as you shook his hand.  The two of you didn’t get time to say anything else, as the professor had finished calling out the partner assignments and had resumed the lecture, but Dick’s attention was currently far from the notes he should be taking.

How the hell had he never seen you before?  Seriously?  You had to be the most jaw-droppingly pretty person he’d ever met; and apparently you’ve been in his class this whole time and he’d never noticed?  That felt impossible.  Dick knew he was an observant man, he had eyes on and for everything at all times.  So how the hell had you slipped past his radar?  You looked barely familiar, like a name on the tip of his tongue.  The remainder of class, Dick spent subtly staring at you from the corner of his eye, while you diligently wrote out notes.  As soon as class ended, Dick regrabbed your attention before you could scurry out and back to your room.

“Hey, can I get your number so we can arrange a day to meet up to work on the project?”  he asked, all smooth and casual, despite the fact he was weirdly nervous to be asking you that question.  And he really shouldn’t be nervous, right?  He wasn’t putting the moves on you, he was trying to be a good student and good partner to you for your shared assignment.  So why did asking for your number suddenly bring up that nauseating fear of rejection that’s hid beneath his skin since he was a kid?

You blinked like you hadn’t expected him to speak to you, let alone ask for your number, “Oh, uh, sure– yeah, that’s a good idea.”  You handed him your phone so he could type in his info.  You watched his fingers nimbly glide over your screen with superspeed and you took the chance in his moment of distraction to ogle a little.  I mean, how could you not?  The casual short sleeve button down he was wearing did not hide the sculpted biceps and pecs he’d gained from an obvious dedication to the gym.

Dick handed back your phone with a grin, “Thanks, I’ll text you later and we can see when the next best day to work is.”  You nodded and said goodbye before rushing off.  If your heart was going to act up like this every time you were near him, you didn’t know if you could survive this project. 

About half way to your place, you opened the new text chain you had with Dick to see what he’d written to himself so he could save your number.  What you read had your jaw dropping and a scoff falling from your lips.

You:  heyyy, i’m sooo excited to work together on this project, i’ve been looking for a reason to talk to u cause ur just soooo handsome and smart and funny and attractive!!  can’t wait to get an a+++ on this assignment xoxoxoxoxo

And the cherry on top was the contact name he’d put in himself, which read:  craving dick 💙

You quickly typed a new response.

You:  u really typed that whole thing out and still pressed send

The reply was almost immediate.

 craving dick 💙:  wdym??

      i mean, don’t get me wrong, i’m VERY flattered, but my phone is saying U sent ME that message

      how would i send myself a text??

You laughed in bewilderment as you shoved through your door and into your apartment, fingers typing a fast response.

You:  haha very funny

         but yk ur putting words in my mouth 🙄

craving dick 💙:  no clue what ur talking abt

      but since we’re already chatting, when do u wanna meet up to work on the project?

You sat down on your couch, having already shrugged your bag and shoes off.

You:  r u free thursday?

craving dick 💙:  what time?

You:  i can do anytime between 4-9

craving dick 💙:  let’s do 6-9, i’ve got class until 5

      wanna meet at the library?

You:  sure

          i’ll already be there, studying for a stats quiz, probably by the windows near the phys/anat section on the 2nd floor

craving dick 💙:  cool

      see ya thurs

You put your phone down, smiled a little silly to yourself and turned on the tv to try and distract yourself from the giddiness of having just made plans with the Dick Grayson.

Thursday rolls around both too quick and too slow for you. You got to the library around 2 pm to study for your statistics quiz, and had since reached a sort of flowstate.  You were so sucked into your studying that you didn’t notice Dick had even approached until the chair next to you slid out and then back in but this time occupied by the frame of a man who was one of the stars of the gymnastics team.

“Oh hey, sorry, I didn’t see you come in,”  you told him when you’d finally realized Dick was sitting next to you.

“Don’t worry about it, you seemed very focused on your math problem,”  he said with a smirk that made your chest feel funny.  He swiftly got out his laptop and notebook, “So, what topic do ya wanna do?”

“Uhhh, I don’t really care, to be honest, I’m pretty good with anything from 1850 to today?”  you offered and Dick nodded.

“Sounds great, let’s do an event from the first half of the 20th century, we should be able to find more sources for the different lenses we have to cover,”  Dick concluded thoughtfully.  You agreed with his idea and you two settled on a specific event to cover for your project.

“I can handle the political and economic causes, if you want to do the social ones, then we could both handle effects since they’re kinda all over the place,”  you told him as you began opening tabs on your laptop that were pertinent to the topic you were covering.  Dick blinked, as if taken aback, but that commercial-worthy smirk still stuck on his face.

“Got your hands a bit full with that caseload,”  he noted in a leading tone.  You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, raising a brow in a way of telling him to say what he really meant, Dick must’ve gotten the clue, since he continued after shifting in his chair to face you more full on, “This is supposed to be a partner project, y’know, teamwork.  If one person’s doing most of the work, that’s not really a partnership.”

You continued to gaze at him somewhat critically.  No matter what you may or may not feel for the man, and no matter what his grades were like, he had a reputation that was pretty in-line with frat guy stereotypes, and you couldn’t risk your grade in this class– no matter how handsome he was.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s really not a problem, I’m good at this stuff,”  you said dismissively as you went back to organizing a new document on your computer for all your notes and links for the project.

“I’m not saying I doubt your abilities to handle the workload, I’m just saying you don’t have to handle that much by yourself, we are paired up for a reason.”

“I mean, if you really want to do extra work that bad, then who am I to stop you?”  you conceded, not wanting your first meeting with Dick to go sour just because you were worried he wouldn’t do the project right.

“Great, we’ll split everything evenly then,”  he settled in a chipper voice that felt like it didn’t quite meet full sincerity.  The two of you then got to work, and you found a flow surprisingly quickly.  It felt weirdly natural to work with Dick, everything was so seamless.  It was almost odd, watching Dick work so diligently on researching for your project, the whole action was completely juxtaposed with the frat boy image that he so easily exuded; like watching a crocodile knit.  The two of you worked till 10:00, until you finally caught sight of the time.

“Shit, it’s already 10,”  you said abruptly, making Dick jump slightly at the unexpected intrusion of your voice on the focused silence that the two of you had been sitting in for the past few hours.

“So it is,”  he muttered more to himself than in response to you.

“I’ve gotta head out, when are you free next?”  you asked quickly as you began shoving your stuff into your bag.  Dick watched you without moving.

“‘M free Monday evening, Wednesday morning, and Thursday evening next week,”  he provided slowly.

“Okay, let’s do Wednesday morning?”

“8 to 11?”

“Works for me,”  you told him as you stood from your chair and slung your bag over your shoulder, Dick still observing without moving an inch from his spot.  It was silent for another second as you checked to make sure you’d packed up all your things; you didn’t think Dick had anything more to say until he broke the silence again.

“What’re you doing tomorrow night?”  he asked suddenly, causing you to freeze and slowly pull your eyes from your bag to his face, trying to find any sort of clue to what he might possibly be thinking with a question like that.

“...Um, nothing, I think,”  you answered cautiously, looking at him with obvious curiosity and hesitance.

“My frat’s hosting a party, you should come,”  he said casually, crossing his buff arms over his chest and leaning back into his chair with so much cliche suave, your heart began ricocheting all through your body like it was a pinball machine.

“I’m sorry?”  you bumbled out in a true display of shock-brought-on-stupidity.

Dick’s lips twitched up a little at how obviously you’d been caught off guard, “I’m inviting you to the party my frat is throwing tomorrow.  It’d give us a chance to get to know each other outside of class a bit,”  he expanded coyly as if he was some evil genius for inviting you to a frat party, like anyone who doesn’t know the address isn’t invited.

This time, your look shifted to something more hesitant and suspicious.  Dick seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and that’s what you’d heard from all the talk about him, but it’s hard to shake stereotypes, especially when they’re all you have to go off when judging someone’s character.

“I don’t know…”  you drifted off unsurely.

“I’m not gonna pressure you into going, I’ll just text you the address and start time, so if you decide you want to drop by, you’ll know where and when to go,”  Dick assured you and you could only nod in acceptance of this sort of middle ground.

“See you Wednesday,”  you said absently as you turned to take your leave.

“Hopefully tomorrow,”  he called after you teasingly.  You shook your head, both at his weirdness and the dumb smile overtaking your face.

You stood in front of your mirror, turning this way and that, checking yourself for the one millionth time.  You ultimately decided that maybe dropping by Dick’s frat party wasn’t such a terrible idea.  It couldn’t hurt to check it out, right?  That thought process is how you found yourself doing a once-over five times in a row before leaving your apartment.  Finally, you decided you looked hot enough and you weren’t going to feel any less anxious the longer you stood here, so it was time to head out.  You took a deep breath in and downed a glass of water before marching out your door before your nerves could stop you.

The walk from your apartment to Dick’s frat house took about fifteen minutes, but it was a pleasant night so it wasn’t a problem; it helped you sober up before you even got anything in your system.  You knew which house it was before you could even see the numbers on the side, the booming bass and color changing lights in the windows told you exactly which house on the block was throwing a quintessential frat party.

If you thought the music was loud from the street, you weren’t prepared for what it was like inside.  The music was practically thumping through your veins and vibrating in your soul at this volume.  The strobing LEDs were the only illumination throughout the bottom floor. Smoke that smelled unmistakably of weed settled like a cloud emanating from the kitchen, everything else smelled like cheap alcohol, sweat, and overly applied perfume.  The place was so crowded that you couldn’t walk anywhere without having to shove your way through a mass of people.  Any talking that might’ve been done was carried out at almost inhuman volumes that still couldn’t overpower the pounding bass coming from the haphazardly thrown together dj booth.  You tried hard to find Dick in the crowd, but it was nearly impossible to make out who people were unless you were standing directly in front of them.  After about two minutes of preliminary searching, you decided to get yourself a drink before continuing your hunt for the king of all frat guys.  On your way to the makeshift bar, you bumped into a few friends and kids from your classes, which was a relief to know you at least knew someone who wasn’t Dick at this party.  At the bar you grabbed a drink and then made your way toward the dancefloor, deciding it might be smart to casually circle it for a bit and see if you could find Dick either coming or going from the hoard of party-loving college kids.

You were about halfway done with your drink when you felt a strong tap on your shoulder.  You jumped in surprise and quickly turned toward your offender, only to be met with the dangerous face of the very man you’d been looking for since you set foot in the house.

“You came!”  Dick all but screamed to try and be heard over the music. Still, the delight was unmistakable in his voice.

“I did,”  you said at an equal volume with a smirk, still a little disbelieving, yourself.

“I didn’t think you were gonna show up,”  Dick shouted again.

“Me neither,”  you told him honestly with a slight chuckle.

His brows furrowed, “What?”  he called with confusion.

You instantly understood he hadn’t heard what you said, so you repeated a little louder, “I said, ‘me neither’.”

Dick made an ‘ohh’ expression and nodded understandingly.  “When’d you get here?”  he asked, but you didn’t make out what he said since the whole room had suddenly burst out scream-singing along to a childhood classic that’d just come on the speakers.

“What?”  you cried, leaning closer to him in an effort to hear him better.

Dick huffed and leaned in closer, grabbing hold of both your arms to keep you steady and your ear near him so he could repeat himself and be heard this time, “I asked, when did you get here?”  He spoke slower this time, now that you two had favorable proximity.  And while this position was great for hearing each other speak, it was not great for your heart or your head, as his cologne invaded your nostrils and the delicious scent made you dizzy.

“Not long ago– few minutes maybe,”  you told him and Dick nodded once more, seemingly pleased that you hadn’t been here long before he found you.

“I was hoping you’d–”  he began, but you interrupted him.

“Sorry, what?”  you were shouting, “I can’t hear you.”  You even made the universal sign of “can’t hear you” to help deliver your message.

Dick sighed with exasperation and wordlessly began pulling you away from the dancefloor.  His grip on your arms was strong but not hurtful, just firm and secure.  His large hands were warm and calloused against your skin as he expertly guided you through the crowd of drunken people toward someplace you assumed you’d be able to hear each other better.  He ended up pulling you to a hallway by the kitchen, next to the hallway with the bathroom.  It was less crowded and opposite of the room with the dj booth, so it was relatively quieter and noticeably cooler.

“Sorry about that,”  he finally said when he’d stopped the two of you in the hall and let go of your arms, stepping back to give you more space you were honestly a little sad to accept.

You just gave him a small laugh and a shrug, “Seemed pretty standard party environment to me.”

“Yeah, not being able to hear people say stupid things while drunk makes a perfect environment for getting laid,”  Dick joked sarcastically, and you immediately forced down any thoughts that put Dick Grayson and sex together.

“You seemed surprised that I’m here,”  you noted slyly.

Dick’s lips quirked, “Well, in my defense, when I invited you, you acted like I’d just offered you a ticket to an autopsy.”

“Hopefully that’s not where this night goes,”  you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“And where do you hope this night goes?”  Dick pressed with that mesmerizing smirk.

“As long as it’s not the hospital or police station, I don’t really care,”  you retorted, trying to sound as casual and nonchalant as you could.

“So why did you decide to come?”  Dick shifted focus.  This guy definitely had a detective’s nature.

You shrugged, “Didn’t think I could just not show up to the first thing you invited me to, wouldn’t be very productive in creating open communication between partners.”

“See, this is good, now I know you have an understanding of decent manners,”  Dick quipped.

You rolled your eyes again, “Hopefully at least one of us does.”

“You are so full of hope tonight, it’s incredibly refreshing.”

“So, is this,”  you waved around to reference the party, “why you don’t seem to be free on Fridays?”  you questioned teasingly.

“Ever heard of the Pomodoro method?”  Dick asked with an air of seriousness, but the dazzling in his eyes told you he took himself for a bit of a joke.

“Ah, I see.  So you study the whole week and then your form of a break is to get wasted at a party,”  you filled in the gaps yourself with a critical but playful lilt in your voice.

“Wow, you read me so well, it’s like we were made to understand each other.”  Dick instantly internally criticized himself for the drop of genuine admiration that seeped in through the cracks of his sarcasm.

You may or may not have noticed, but you didn’t want to imply that you were looking for an excuse to read too much into things, so you expertly switched gears.  “Do you live in this house?  Or do you conveniently have your own, separate place far away from pledges and neighbors who hate your guts?”

“Why?”  Dick leaned in closer and let his voice drop a tantalizing octave, “Interested in a room tour?”

You stiffened but arched an eyebrow to try and maintain the image of unaffected and critical, “No, just curious about the clean up process for one of these things.”

“Well, that’s what we have pledges for,”  Dick laughed with a shrug.

“Crazy, how you boys pay to be tortured for a whole year.”

“Who’s to say we’re not masochists?”

“Aaaand, hopping to a new, unrelated topic.”  Dick laughed at your refusal to even touch what he’d implied about frat boys, and decided to go along with your assertion for a change in conversation.

“Want a drink?”  he asked smilingly.  You shook the seltzer in your hand, now only about a quarter left as you’d been nursing it since the two of you had settled in the hallway.  Dick rolled his eyes, “A better drink than that.”

“So you’re a gymnast, stellar student, frat guy, and a bartender?  Color me impressed,”  you quipped sarcastically, and Dick’s grin only broadened.

“Wow, didn’t know you were keeping such complimentary tabs on me, I’m truly flattered.”

Your face fell into a deadpan, “Ha, you’re definitely suited to ego-inflation, I can tell you that.”

Dick put a hand over his heart and gasped dramatically, “Honey, you wound me.”

You tried your damnedest to shove the mass of butterflies in your stomach down, “Then why don’t you wrap your wounds at the bar while you get me a new drink,”  you suggested pointedly with an amused look.

“You expect me to brave the battle out there alone?”  Dick asked with fake indignation.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight off the smile that pulled at your lips, “Fine, I guess if you’re so scared of the party you’re technically throwing, I will accompany you to the bar.  But only because it would be rude of me to deny an obvious damsel in distress.”

“That’s the answer I was hoping for,”  Dick chimed merrily as he looped his arm around yours and practically yanked you off the wall.  In the kitchen, you watched as Dick mixed you a new drink, a concoction of various juices and liquors that he promised would taste way better than it looked.  Honestly, you didn’t really care; you were currently getting the perfect view of the man’s bare forearms.  You got to watch as the muscles and veins constricted or disappeared as he moved his arm to grab and pour various bottles.  It was a truly delicious picture that forced you to fight all your instincts to take a massive bite out of his tanned skin.  After he finished the drink, the two of you remained in the kitchen.  It wasn’t as quiet as your hallway, but neither of you had looked particularly interested in trying to shove your way past the dancefloor with newly refilled drinks, so in the kitchen you stayed.  The conversation flowed easily.  The two of you talked about unimportant things, things that were inconsequential in the big picture of your lives but had enough substance to do better than any small talk would.  You had definitely already been here longer than you initially planned, and now that the alcohol was starting to hit you, you were feeling just loose enough to start enjoying the normally overstimulating environment.

“So, we’ve seemed to establish a lot of little facts about me, but what about you?  Wha’d’you do for fun?”  Dick questioned with a smile as he leaned forward a little from the counter to emphasize his prying.

You cocked your head slightly as you studied him for anything malicious.  “Nothing crazy.  Just this and that,”  you informed noncommittally.

Dick narrowed his eyes and he gave you a look that said ‘really? c’mon’ and leaned back into the counter as he did some studying of his own.  “That’s not the descriptive answer I was looking for, and you know it.”

Jeez, this man doesn’t let anyone get away with anything.  With a roll of your eyes, you began to talk about all your hobbies and interests outside of school.  You talked about some of your favorite activities, shows, books, movies, etc.  And all the while, Dick listened intently, so intently that you completely forgot you were at a frat party where the environment should not be suited to long conversations about yourself.  It was crazy, the way this man made it so easy to forget where you were and lose yourself completely in the moment.  He had this sort of magic about him.  Something spellbinding that you weren’t sure if you should be afraid of or obsessed with.

Out of nowhere, a girl stumbled into you and you had to catch her before she fell to the floor.  When you got her stabilized on her heeled feet, you caught sight of her face and you instantly recognized each other.  The girl was a friend of yours who you met freshman year in your shared English class.  Her words were incredibly slurred, but she still shouted your name with glee and wrapped her arms around you in a haphazard hug.  You patted her back, but couldn’t effectively hug her back as she was pretty much deadweight lying against you.  

“You feelin’ alright, Stace?”  you asked with concern in your voice.

“Mmmm ‘m alright,”  she responded with a grin plastered on her face that told you she was totally out of it.

“Yeah?  You look pretty gone,”  you countered with a slight tease to cover up your worry about your friend’s state.

“I di’nt know you came t’ these anymore.  Y’sh’d’ve called me!  Could’ve come t’gether,”  was the only response you got out of her.

“Maybe next time.  But maybe you should call it a night, yeah?  That hangover tomorrow’s gonna be nasty,”  you suggested as you tried to get her to support more of her own weight so you weren’t effectively an upright couch.  All the while, Dick watched with amused curiosity, like he had front row seats at the taping of a soap opera.

“Nooooo,”  Stacy shook her head weakly and laughed, “‘M having fuuuun.”

“You can have fun next weekend, maybe even tomorrow if you’re really feeling up for it,”  you pointed out as you squeezed her arms to try and convey how serious you were about her calling it a night.  

Stacy looked at you sadly this time.  “But ‘m not tired!”

“Stace,”  you pressed gently but firmly.

Stacy stared at you for a long moment before she sighed glumly, “Fiiiiine, guess yur right.”

You smiled at your win, “Always am,” you couldn’t help from saying.  Remembering Dick, you looked back at him only to find him already watching you with an indecipherable gaze.  Swallowing inconspicuously, you addressed him.  “I’m gonna take her home, I don’t want her walking back to her place on her own in this state.”

Dick nodded understandingly, and you had no clue he was actually very saddened by your departure.  “I get it.  Do you want me to go with you?  You’re not exactly sober yourself,”  he offered, ever the gentleman.

You shook your head, “No, that’s okay.  I’m barely tipsy at this point, and neither of our places are very far from here; we’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, thank you, though.”

Dick nodded again but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Thanks for coming though, I really appreciate it,”  he said with a sincerity that honestly threw you off a little.  You didn’t usually encounter frat guys who thanked people for coming to their ragers.

“It was fun,”  you told him honestly, and you felt Stacey rest her head on your shoulder.

“Maybe I’ll see you at another one then,”  he replied leadingly.

A ghost of a smile appeared on your face, “Maybe, only if I get a save-the-date.”

“Noted.  See ya Wednesday.  Get home safe and text me when you’ve made it back to your apartment so I don’t have to worry about you getting nabbed off the street.”

You laughed as you wrapped your arm around Stacey’s waist and prepped yourself to walk the two of you out of the house, “I will, promise.”

Dick walked you and Stacey to the door and watched as the two of you walked and disappeared down the street.  Stacey’s apartment was conveniently on the way to yours from the direction of Dick’s frat, so it wasn’t long before you were back in the comforting walls of your own place.  You were halfway through your nightly routine before you suddenly remembered you’d promised Dick to text him when you made it back.  You instantly stopped what you were doing and jumped for your phone, shooting him a quick text.

You:  hey, got back safe and sound

This time, the reply was undeniably instantaneous.

craving dick 💙:  good good, was worried i’d have to send the battalion after u and ur friend

You:  no, no need for the battalion this time

         maybe next time, i’ll keep u posted

craving dick 💙:  glad to hear

You:  alr, i’m gonna go to bed

         i’ll see u wednesday

         8 o’clock

         don’t be late

craving dick 💙:  wouldn’t dream of it

      night sweetheart

You:  night

You had to slap your phone face down on your nightstand before letting out a stupid little giggle at the message.  You fell asleep with a stupid little smile on your face, dreaming stupid little dreams of a stupidly handsome little man whispering ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ in your ear.

True to his word, Dick Grayson was not late to your Wednesday meet-up.  When you walked into the campus coffee shop you’d agreed to meet at, the man was already sitting at one of the few booths in the cafe in all his 5’10 glory.  Even this early, he still had a dazzling smile on his face.  He stood up from his seat as you approached and stayed standing even after you’d slid into the bench opposite his.

“Want anything?”  he asked all peppy after you had exchanged hellos.

“Uh sure, I was gonna grab something after I’d put my stuff down,”  you told him as you got out your laptop and notebook.

“No no, I’ve got it.  I’m asking for your order.”

You looked at him like he’d suddenly sprouted a second head.  “You don’t have to do that.”

“No, but I want to.”

You arched a brow, “Is this you trying to flaunt your wealth?  So rich he can afford two orders from the grossly overpriced campus coffee shop?”  you teased.

Dick gave you a look that said ‘seriously?’ and rolled his eyes, “I mean, if you don’t want a free drink and snack, then I don’t have to pay for you.  I was just trying to be gentlemanly.”

“No no, if you’d like to show off those manners you were raised so well with, then who am I to stop you?”

“So wha’d’ya want then?”  You gave Dick your order, and he took off.  You stole glances at him occasionally as he ordered and waited for your stuff.  Even on a random midweek morning, he had the gall to look like he ought to be doing a photoshoot for Dolce and Gabbana, not working on a history project in a coffee shop.  Today, he was wearing his gymnastics team jacket over a plain dark blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans, a fit that should not be eye-catching, but apparently, when you look as good as Dick, any boring old outfit can look Vogue-worthy.  He sauntered back over to your booth, looking far too proud of himself as he set your drink and snack down in front of you.  As he slid into the booth, he sighed and stretched in a way that gave you a sliver of his waistline to feed on.  God, why did he have to have such a slutty waist on top of everything else?

“This is the part where you thank me, y’know, maybe even call me your hero,”  Dick informed you teasingly.

You gave him a look and took a slow sip of your drink before opting to respond, “Thank you.  I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call you a hero, but it’s a goal to shoot for.  You may just get there one day, who knows?”  your voice dripped with friendly sarcasm.  Dick’s lips twitched into a grin before he readjusted himself into a posture that was better suited for actually engaging in school work.  The two of you got pretty much down to business after that, wasting no time in trying to get through as much of the assignment as possible in the couple of hours you had blocked out in your schedules.  

It was a peaceful way to spend the morning.  For the most part, the two of you worked in silence, too focused on the project for idle chitchatter.  But every once in a while, one of you would have a question on some source or quote or something, and would softly interrupt the silence.  Your voices would flutter through the air and cushion the little bubble you’d created in your booth with an almost intimate atmosphere.  You had no way of knowing how Dick felt, but you knew it was utter relief to be paired up with someone who wasn’t condescending or rude when you wanted to brainstorm an idea you had, or you wanted some clarification to put your mind at ease while it wrestled with something.  He never answered like he was trying to brush you off or end the conversation as soon as possible.  He’d sit there and hum just under his breath as he mulled over whatever it was you said, before giving you a thoughtful answer.  He was also always looking for your input.  Dick seemed to genuinely value your thoughts and ideas.  Not just because you were partners and he technically had to– no, he seemed to take pleasure in hearing what you had to say about this and that.  The pair of you were so intent on your work that your drinks had well gone cold before you’d even finished them, and you had to actively remind yourself to take bites of the treat you’d ordered that sat in its paper bag.

The two of you had made a pretty good dent in your research work when 11:00 rolled around.  When you caught the time, you had to tell Dick you had to start heading out for your chemistry class.  He nodded, maybe even solemnly– but your mind might’ve been playing tricks on you.  Still, you thanked him again for the food and scheduled to meet up again on Thursday at the same time you’d met the previous week.  Dick watched you go with the ghost of a smile on his face, and something unreadable in his eyes.

Three weeks passed of meeting up twice a week to work on the history assignment, and naturally you and Dick had gotten closer.  You now texted everyday, mostly about non-project related topics.  You were now well versed in all the drama in his frat and the gymnastics team.  You’d seen pictures of all of his siblings, albeit awful ones, and even his pets at home (you’d made extreme fun of him when he revealed he had a cow at home– because what rich kid doesn’t just have a cow in their backyard??).  You knew each other’s schedules by heart, and often found yourselves conveniently in the same spots to grab lunch or dinner together a few times a week.  You’d met Dick’s best friends and got along superbly well with them; much to Dick’s unspoken relief and joy.  You also at some point ended up moving seats in your history class, now you sat on Dick’s right.  And to the obvious displeasure of the guy sitting on Dick’s left, you now occupied the blue-eyed man’s full attention during class when the time was right for a well placed joke.  It was hard to believe you’d technically only met each other a few weeks ago, but some people just click that well.  It’s hard to imagine your life before Dick came in, that’s how naturally he fit your rhythm.  All this to say, your blossoming relationship with Dick Grayson was doing nothing to help the minor crush you may or may not have on him.

Unbeknownst to you, Dick was struggling just as much, if not more.  While you had had the luxury of growing your crush slowly over a long period of time, Dick’s crush had come on at a hundred miles per hour with the strength of a 30 foot tidal wave.  One minute Dick had no clue who you were, the next, he was being completely flattened under the weight of his infatuation.  It’s like you were purposefully trying to see how quickly you could get him to fall in love.  Now, Dick wasn’t going to go that far and actually call this emotion he was feeling ‘love’, after all, you’d only been talking for a few weeks.  But if he continued down this track at the pace he was, Dick didn’t doubt he’d be having to swallow those big three words in the not-so-distant future.  

And the worst part was, Dick was not used to feeling like this.  Sure, he’d had like two serious, long-term relationships in the past.  But between them and since, he’d definitely indulged in the stereotypical frat-boy lifestyle.  He wasn’t a player, necessarily, and manwhore might be too harsh a term, but he also didn’t get the reputation he has from pure rumor.  Dick knew what falling in love felt like, he’d done it before, but this somehow felt different.  He couldn’t put it into words, but there was something about sitting quietly with you in the library that made him think of forever.  God, he was such a weirdo.  You were just friends.  You’ve known each other barely a month and he’s sitting here thinking about words like ‘love’ and ‘forever’.  He needed to knock some sense into himself before he said or did something dumb.  

Sometimes, Dick thought about backing off.  He toyed with the idea of texting you less frequently, meeting you for lunch less, and pulling back more once the project was finally over.  But then, Dick would damn near feel nauseous after even considering these preposterous ideas, let alone enacting them.  No, that’d be all but impossible.  The seal had been broken on this friendship and now Dick couldn’t go back to a time when you weren’t a key feature of his day.  No, dropping you was out of question.  He’d just have to shove down whatever these feelings were and try to pretend his heart didn’t do flips when he caught sight of you.  He’d just have to convince himself his cheeks didn’t grow hot when you gave him a look that was supposed to be scolding but was betrayed by the gleam in your eyes that told him he’d amused you.

He needed more time with you, but more time was dangerous.  Lately, he’d found himself actively having to bite his tongue when the sun hit your features a little too right and a rom-com worthy confession bubbled up from his chest.  It felt silly and almost immature to call what he was experiencing a crush, but that seemed to be the only word available.  Sometimes, when the two of you were together working on the history project, Dick found himself wondering what it might be like if the two of you were hanging out without the assignment as an excuse.  He found himself wondering what it might be like to take you on a date, whether you’d say yes or look disgusted at the mere idea and absolutely decimate his self-confidence for eternity.  Would it being a date change the atmosphere?  Would that make it more stuffy and awkward?  Or would it be just as, if not more, comfortable than it always was between the two of you?  Would you smile if he showed up to your door with a bouquet of flowers?  Would you prefer a cozy meal somewhere small and local?  Or, would you let him take you to some upscale place that required a dress code just to get your name on the waitlist?  Would you give him a peck on the cheek after a pleasant evening, with promises for another?  Would you let him peck you on the cheek for making his night?  These were just some of the questions that floated around in his mind when he most definitely should be studying or focusing on whatever stupid thing Wally was saying this time.

“Dude, I’m begging you, just go on a date already,”  Wally groaned/whined when he’d caught Dick spacing off mid-conversation yet again.

Dick shot him a glare, “It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is!”  Wally jumped up from the couch and began acting out a theoretical conversation between you and Dick, “Hey! Would you like to go out on a date sometime?  Yes!  I’d love to!  You’re sooo handsome Dick Grayson and I’d be so happy to go on a date with you!  Well, hallelujah!  I’ll pick you up at six and we’ll have a jolly good time!”  The redhead obnoxiously switched caricature voices as he performed for his best friend.  When he was done, he took a bow and returned to his oddly serious expression, “See, it really is that easy.  You just don’t have the balls to do it.”

“I’ve got balls, you’ve seen ‘em,”  Dick remarked sarcastically.

“Right right big guy.  Look, I get that asking someone out is scary as hell, but Jesus fucking Christ I’m begging you to do it because you’re fucking insufferable sitting here pinning after someone and ignoring the rest of us.”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

“What was it we were talking about before I broke us off into this tangent?”

Dick rolled his eyes but still ended up proving Wally’s point.  Wally flopped back down on the couch and wore a face he only made when he was scheming, and Wally West and scheming do not mix well.  “What if,”  he began slowly, as if he was still piecing together the idea while speaking it allowed, “What if we threw a party?”

Dick scoffed, “You’re right, as a frat house, we should definitely throw a party, we’ve never done one of those before.  What a genius.”  Dick’s sarcasm was palpable.

“Shut up,”  Wally waved a dismissive hand in Dick’s face that instantly got swatted away.  Wally continued on as if he’d never been interrupted in the first place, “You invite your little history friend, work your stupid ass prince charming magic and secure a date.  Boom, everyone wins.  We all get to party, you get laid, and you stop annoying the shit out of everyone.”

This time, Dick actually was considering Wally’s proposition.  Not because of the party or the redhead’s promises of ‘getting laid’, but because of the golden opportunity it might actually present.  After a couple of drinks, Dick would be tipsy enough to not back out last minute with a plan to ask you out.  He’d also be tipsy enough to not be too hurt if you rejected him.  And then, if you did reject him, he could distract himself with one of his friends and you could do your own thing without running the risk of bumping into each other for the rest of the night.  In a weird way, a rager might be the perfect environment for him to ask you out.  When Dick agreed that Wally’s plan was solid, Wally threw a triumphant fist into the air and began spamming the frat group chat with plans to throw a party for Friday night.  Meanwhile, Dick plotted ominously on how he’d convince you to not only come to the party but to go out on a date with him.

It turned out that you didn’t need a whole lot of convincing to go to the party Dick’s frat was throwing on Friday.  You decided it’d be fun, and you were going to take the opportunity to hang out with Stacey again since you haven’t had a lot of chances lately.  You spent two hours picking out your outfit.  There was this nagging voice in your head that demanded you look as good as possible.  Not necessarily for Dick, but if he had his jaw on the floor when you walked in, that also wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.  You and Stacey vibed out while you were getting ready at her apartment, so that the walk to Dick’s frat was filled with the excitement and unbridled happiness that came from the freedom of youth.  Having pre-gamed a little before leaving Stacey’s apartment, by the time you two got to the frat, you were tipsy.  The Cutwater and Titos you’d had with Stacey were already swimming through your veins and giving your brain that light feeling that made you want to giggle at everything.

The party was in full swing when you and Stacey walked through the door.  Everything had been turned to the max: the people, the music, the lights, the dancing, the games, the alcohol.  You felt the pounding bass rattle your bones, and like a puppet on strings, pull you toward the dancefloor.  Stacey pulled you to the bar and you both grabbed a drink.  You had told yourself you were going to try and find Dick first when you got to the party, but Stacey’s invitation to dance was too enthralling, and in the blink of an eye, you were in the middle of the dancefloor with your friend.  There was nothing like a good buzz, accompanied by good music, good dancing, and good friends.  It felt like your soul had sprouted wings.

You were so lost in the music and laughing with your friend that the rest of the world dropped away.  You were only returned to your setting when you felt a light touch on the small of your back.  You turned around sharply, ready to give whoever was touching you a piece of your mind, when you were met with the familiar face of Dick Grayson.  Your eyes lit up and a bright grin overtook your face.

“Dick!”  you shouted with abundant happiness over the blaring music, “I was wondering when you’d show up!” Your words were slightly slurred, but Dick’s lips twitched into a grin.

“Pretty sure that’s my line, sweetheart,”  he joked as he leaned in a little so you could hear him better.  God, he was just too hot.

“Y’throw a good party,”  you told him seriously, but the little stumble you made brought a laugh out of him.

“I hope so, ‘s pretty much all a frat’s known for.”

“You dance, pretty boy?”  The alcohol had done numbers for your bravery.

Dick sputtered a little, and it might’ve been the strobe lights playing tricks, but you could’ve sworn you saw some pink dusting his cheeks.  “Well, I had to take a few lessons as a kid for galas and whatnot,”  he said stupidly, his brain completely thrown by your calling him ‘pretty boy’.  Jesus Christ, he was done for and it hadn’t even been five minutes with you.

You gave him a friendly but mocking look, “Don’think there’s much room for a waltz.”

Dick rubbed his neck sheepishly, “You may be right.”

“‘M always right,”  you corrected with a strong poke to Dick’s chest.  And hotdamn, his tits were huge.  Dick smoothly grabbed onto the wrist of the hand that was poking him and slid his hand up slowly to encase your hand.

“Maybe, prolly need more empirical data to prove that though.”  His voice dropped a little, and your throat went dry.  You fixed that by taking a big gulp of your drink.  You don’t know how it happened or who initiated it, but you suddenly found your arms draped loosely over his strong shoulders and his hands holding you at your hips.  The two of you swayed to the rhythm of the music and took turns between staring into each other’s eyes in a drunken silence and talking about some random topic with slurred words and lazy smiles.  Everything around the two of you fell back to pure white noise.  You felt none of the bodies that accidentally bumped into you; you only felt the warmth of Dick’s hands seeping through your clothes.  You didn’t smell the alcohol, or sweat, or weed that permeated the air in the house, just Dick’s divine cologne and detergent.  You didn’t even register the flashing lights because all you saw were the pools of blue that made Dick’s eyes.  Eyes that stared at you with an indiscernible emotion, but with such intensity that if you hadn’t been drunk, you would’ve definitely been squirming.  You didn’t know how long the two of you “danced”, but it felt like an eternity (an eternity you’d happily die to).

“‘M kinda thirsty.  Wanna grab a drink?”  Dick asked in a voice that was just a breath away from being sultry.  Your brain couldn’t find words fast enough so you just nodded.  You felt a brief flash of panic that going to get a drink would mean the two of you had to separate, but then Dick slid one of his hands from your hip to the small of your back and stepped closer to you so that you were now effectively pressed against him.  He led you like this through the dense crowd of drunk college kids to the bar.  Every part of you that was in contact with him felt like it was on fire.  Your heart was hammering out of your chest, and you had to stop yourself from staring at the man next to you so longingly.  

After grabbing your new drinks, Dick was about to ask if you wanted to go outside for some fresh air when one of his friends barreled over and loudly asked if you and he wanted to play rage cage. Normally, Dick would’ve enthusiastically said yes, but tonight he kind of just wanted to spend time with you. But beside him, you perked up at the idea of the game and looked at him with this expectant excitement that made his heart do funny things in his chest.

“Do y’wanna play?’’ Dick asked as ambiguously as possible so you didn’t feel like he was leading you to any answer.

“Honestly, kinda yeah,”  you told him.  Dick nodded and asked his friend where they were setting up rage cage.

The folding table was half covered with red solo cups, and a large group of people surrounded it.  Everyone was chattering excitedly, already drunk or tipsy, as the people who’d organized the game finished filling the bitch cup.

“You played rage cage before?”  Dick asked as you two saddled up to the table, his hand still resting gently against your back.

“Mhm, a couple times at s’me other parties,”  you assured him as you looked at the other players to try and spot some recognizable faces.

“You two look cozy,”  the voice of Wally West suddenly speared through your conversation.  Dick turned his head sharply to his other side, where his best friend had suddenly appeared with a shiteating grin.  Dick subtly kicked him in the shins.

“And you don’t smell like Cheetos for once,”  you snipped back sarcastically, causing the redhead to bark out a laugh.  Well, you didn’t get awkward or pull away, so Dick was considering this a massive win.  Wally didn’t have the chance to press any further about Dick’s progress with asking you out, since the game suddenly commenced, and all of your attention was turned to trying not to get stuck with the bitch cup.

The game was the perfect mix of chaos and fun.  By the end, everyone was thoroughly wasted, including you and Dick.  Both of you were slightly swaying on your feet, and the only reason either of you was staying upright was because you had your arms wrapped around each other, allowing the two of you to use the other to maintain balance.

You thought Wally might stick around to hang out with you and Dick, but shortly after the game ended, he suddenly disappeared, so you were left alone with Dick again.  Not that you were complaining.  You and Dick grabbed new drinks from the bar before you led Dick back to the dancefloor, and the two of you went back to dancing like you were before the game, but this time, significantly closer than last.  There was barely an inch between you; you could feel Dick’s chest brush against you as he breathed.  

Dick felt like he was going insane.  You were so close.  You had your arms wrapped around his neck, and he could smell your shampoo, and you were so warm.  He was so drunk and everything about you that he already thought about day and night was just being amplified and his heart was going crazy and his mind was spinning and he felt like he was either going to word vomit or vomit vomit soon and he wasn’t sure which would be worse.  Dick never wanted this moment to end.  If he could take a snapshot of the feeling of holding you in his arms, he would, and he would keep it tucked away in a locket so he could have this heavenly feeling near his heart at all times. 

The alcohol circling your system was starting to make you tired.  It was that point in the evening where you either fell asleep or suddenly perked way way up.  Without thinking, you gently set your head to rest against Dick’s chest, letting out a gentle sigh as you did and closing your eyes.  Dick felt his breath catch in his throat.  He went practically completely still, but still swayed slightly like it was second nature to follow the beat of the music in the background.  This was glorious.  Instinctively, his arms circled around your waist and ever so slightly pulled you in closer.  He could die happy right now.  Even if he never got to confess how he felt toward you, holding you here was fulfilling enough to satiate him forever.  Of course, he wanted to confess.  He wanted to confess so badly that it had literally been all he thought about since he first talked about it with Wally.  Even more so, he desperately wanted to hear you return his feelings.  He wanted to ask you out, wanted to take you on such an amazing date that you didn’t stop talking about it for the rest of your lives.  His fanatical spiral was broken when he felt your head move to go from resting against him to perching your chin on his chest so you could look up at him with tired eyes that made him want to kiss you senseless.

“‘M kinda lightheaded,”  you informed him in a voice that was muddled with alcohol-induced tiredness.

Dick nodded with a small, understanding smile.  “Wanna get some fresh air outside?”  he asked gently.

You considered his question for a second before nodding, liking the idea of fresh air and maybe sitting down.  Dick kept one arm wrapped around your waist, and you kept yourself folded into his side as he led you to the backyard.  

The second you stepped outside, the night air hit you instantly.  It was cold and crisp and so so welcome after the hours you’d spent in the stuffy frat house.  You took a deep breath in as Dick sat you down on the steps outside the sliding glass door that’d taken you outside.  The cement was cold and hard when you sat down, but it felt sooo good to sit that you didn’t care about how uncomfortable the concrete was.  Dick sat down beside you, and while he didn’t place his arms back around you, he was pressed so close against you that it didn’t feel like you were missing much in the physical contact department.  A minute passed, and you let your head fall against Dick’s shoulder.  A few additional seconds ticked by before his head came to gently rest atop yours.  A comfortable silence blanketed the two of you.  The bass of the music inside thrummed softly outside, but you could still hear the crickets chirping.  It was dark, except for the sole light above you.  It felt like a completely different planet from the party you’d just been navigating.

“Thanks for inviting me,”  you uttered out of nowhere, breaking the silence and Dick’s daze.

“Of course, thanks for coming,”  he replied, his voice stripped of all the usual masks of playfulness, charisma, and cunning.  The comfortable silence resumed for a few minutes before Dick felt himself getting too antsy.  

“Can I tell you something?”  he asked.  There was an almost nervous quiver in his voice.

“Of course,”  you told him earnestly.

Dick went silent.  Suddenly, now that he was here and actually about to confess his feelings, the nerves were finally hitting.  His tongue felt like sandpaper and he wanted to disappear and make you forget he was ever going to tell you anything.  But then you took your head off his shoulder to look at him curiously when his silence became prolonged, and the sight of your face made him forget everything, including his nerves.

Dick took in a last breath before speaking.  “I like you.”

You looked at him with a confused smile, “Well, I’d hope so, since we are friends.”

Dick swallowed, “No, yeah, no I know.  But– I,”  he sighed before recollecting himself, “What I’m trying to say is… I like like you.  As in, I may or may not have a crush on you.”  Dick’s eyes frantically searched your face for any kind of reaction that would tell him whether to shut up or keep going, but you were keeping your expression amazingly schooled.  Dick decided to risk it and continue, “I just– my heart stops and then starts up again at 10 times the speed whenever I see you.  And I’ve been tormented with the desire to ask you out on a date for weeks but I guess I’m only brave enough to do it when I’m drunk.”

You were silent for a minute, your mind absolutely spinning.  Was he being serious?  Or was he fucking with you in the worst way possible?  Because this was definitely a dream scenario.  This was the type of situation you thought of to fall asleep at night.  This was what you imagined when he’d brush against you in class or bring you your favorite order from the coffee shop without asking.  

“Are you fucking with me right now?”  you asked, uncertainty and a bit of fear in your voice that made Dick’s chest tighten.  Dick turned to face you full on and he grabbed your hands to hold in your lap as you stared at him.

“I’d never fuck around about something like this.  Sweetheart, being around you is addictive and I want to have you in my life forever, preferably as more than friends.”  Dick’s eyes were more serious than you’d ever seen, and his voice left no room for doubt.  But you were also drunk, and you knew that he was also drunk, and the small bit of fear that Dick Grayson would never feel about you how you felt about him was getting bigger and bigger with the substance in your system that brought out the extremes in everything.  What if he was just thinking that now because he was drunk and you were close by?  What if he woke up tomorrow and thought himself an idiot and took back everything he said?  I mean, you’d seen and heard of Dick’s escapades before.  He had a reputation for a reason, and even if that reputation wasn’t as bad as some of the other frat guys on campus, a reputation is a reputation.  You didn’t want your heart to get caught up in his tomfoolery, you’d be left heartbroken.  You liked him, you wanted him badly, but taking a risk on a guy like him was kind of huge for you.  You weren’t sure if you could pin all your hopes on the promises of a man whose breath smelled like all the booze you’d watched him ingest throughout the night.

“You’re drunk,”  you said, not sure if it was an accusation or a shielding method.

“I am.  Does that matter?”  Dick was getting nervous.

You bit your lip, “No, it’s just– what if you don’t know what you’re saying?  What if tomorrow, you realize you made a mistake and don’t really feel the way you’re saying you feel, and that you were just drunk?”  The fear was evident in your voice this time.  Dick’s hands leapt from holding your hands to your arms, giving them a little squeeze.

“That’s not what this is.  Being drunk just amplifies everything I feel for you, to a point that it’s almost unbearable not to talk about, which is why I’m so stupidly rambling and waxing poetic.”  Dick told you firmly.  Now he was kind of internally freaking out.  He could handle it if you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, it’d kill him inside but he could ultimately handle it.  But if there was a chance you did reciprocate but just didn’t want to admit that because you thought he was lying because he was drunk, that would be world ending.

“Look, I know how I feel about you, and I’d feel this way drunk or sober.  But I get it.  I’ve got a rep and I’m not trying to deny any of it.  But, I also really like you, and I’ve never been the type of person to just give up easily.  So,” he shifted a little and dropped his hands back to hold yours, “how about this; tomorrow, I’ll meet you for coffee and you’ll see that when I’m sober, my feelings for you don’t change.  I’ll ask you out again and you can decide for yourself if you want to go out with me.  Is that okay?”

You searched his face for any clues of deception, any intent to bait and switch you but you found none.  “Okay.”

Dick’s eyes light up like you’d said you’d marry him and his stomach erupted in butterflies.  “Great!  Great.  Thank you, for giving me this chance to at least assure you of how I feel, even if you don’t end up returning the affection.  At the end of the day, I’m just glad to have you in my life.”

You smiled softly at him, “I’m glad to have you in my life.”  Dick gazed at you in such a gentle yet intense way that it sent chills down your spine.  Then, Dick slowly leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead.  It was so brief and light that you almost thought that you had imagined it, but he stayed there with his lips hovering over your forehead for a few seconds and you only felt like you could breathe again when he finally pulled away.  Not because you didn’t want him kissing your forehead (honestly you’d rather he be kissing other places) but just because having him so close was suffocating in the way that only happens with people you’ve been hardcore crushing on for years.  Sighing, you dropped your head against his shoulder and Dick brought his hand up to massage the back of your head.  The two of you stayed like that for who knows how long, but the party behind you had been long forgotten.

You woke up the next morning with a headache and a very dry mouth.  Your room was offensively bright which meant it was well past ten in the morning.  You rolled out of bed and ambled to your bathroom like a zombie.  When you looked in the mirror, you looked just as undead as you felt.  You somehow made it through washing your face and brushing your teeth before wandering back to your bed and plopping down atop the covers.  You grabbed your phone off the nightstand and were met with a text from Dick.

craving dick 💙:  hey, text me when u wake up and we can meet for that coffee i promised.  see u soon (i hope)  :)

Your heart clenched.  God, remembering what happened last night made you want to both hit yourself and giggle like a schoolgirl.  You wasted no time texting him back, even if you had to retype your message a few times due to exhaustion induced typos.

You:  hey, just woke up, if ur ready i can get dressed and we can meet at the usual spot

Dick responded in a couple of minutes.

craving dick 💙:  ok cool, i’m ready so say be there in like 45?

You:  sounds good, see u soon 

You got ready as fast as you could, but you were also tired and hungover, so you ended up not putting as much effort in as usual and let yourself not care about leaving the house looking a little bummy.  The walk to the coffee shop gave you a mild headache, but your biggest concern was seeing Dick.  Your heart was racing outside your chest.  You felt like a fool and you were terrified you might’ve ruined your chances with him last night.  But you were equally nervous he was about to tell you he didn’t actually want anything with you.  When you walked into the coffee shop, Dick was already there, sitting at a booth with his order in front of him and your order in front of the empty seat across from him.  When the little bell over the door rang, Dick’s gaze instantly jumped up and caught you walking in.  You gave him a sheepish wave and smile and walked over.  As you walked over, Dick got up and grabbed the drinks.

“I was thinking we could take a little walk, it’s a nice day out and the cafe’s a little crowded,”  he said quickly.  You couldn’t think of any reason not to, so you agreed and took your drink when Dick offered it to you, before following him out the door again.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, wandering aimlessly down one of the typically less frequented paths of campus.  The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just fraught with a tension and electricity that hadn’t been there before last night.  It was equal parts unnerving and exhilarating.  Finally, Dick broke the silence.

“So, should probably address the elephant in the room,”  he joked.  Humor always was his fall back coping mechanism.

“Probably,”  you agreed with equal lightness.

Dick then stopped walking and turned to face you.  “I wasn't talking out my ass last night.  I like you, a lot.  I think about you everyday.  I could be having the worst day ever, but if I see you, my mood is instantly brightened.  I’ll be walking around town or campus and I’ll see things that remind me of you every two steps.  I want to take you out on a date like I’ve never wanted anything before, but I also don’t want to force you into anything.”  Dick didn’t think his voice had ever sounded so bare in his life, he felt naked.  You looked at him like you were trying to find any clue that he was lying.

“Dick,”  you began anxiously, “I… I really like you too.  I’m not gonna lie, I may have had a crush on you for maybe possibly a year now.  I’m sorry I doubted you or if I freaked you out at all in the last 24 hours, I really would never want to cause you any distress.  I just couldn’t believe you might return my feelings, and I guess I had an easier time thinking you were lying than telling the truth,” you took a step toward him, “Dick, I’d love to go out with you.  I really, really, want to go on a date with you,”  you told him steadfastly.  The look in your eyes, your posture, your breathing pattern, Dick had no doubt you were telling the truth and it was the most magnificent feeling he’d ever felt.

You wanted to go on a date with him.  You reciprocated his feelings.  He had a chance.  This might just be the greatest day of his whole life.

“You have no idea how fucking relieved and stoked I am right now,”  he told you with a blinding grin on his face.

The smile that broke out on your face was just as wide.  “And you have no idea how long I’ve been wishing this would happen.”

“Mmm, no, you have no idea how desperately I’ve wanted this to happen,”  Dick countered in a dopey, teasing voice.  You suddenly realized how close the two of you were, just a breath apart.  Your eyes danced between his eyes and his lips, while his gaze seemed firmly fixed on your lips.

“So, have any thoughts on where you wanna take me, pretty boy?”  you probed slyly.

Dick laughed and leaned down slightly, “Obviously I’m taking you to dinner, but maybe before that, we could do something like see a movie, or go to the mall, or the park.  Whatever it is you want to do, I just want to maximize my time with you,”  Dick whispered, his voice like velvet.

“I can’t find anything wrong with that,”  you told him, inching closer ever so slightly.  

“Well, that’s good to hear.”  There was silence for a brief moment, electricity flaring between you.  Dick licked his lips before opening his mouth to speak again.  “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” was your sole, breathy response.  Dick moved instantly.  His lips were plush against yours, the kiss was soft and gentle, like he was testing the waters.  When you kissed him back, he let himself go a little further, and the kiss became fervent.  It was intoxicating.  It was addictive.  It was heaven on earth.  You didn’t care about your need for oxygen, if it meant breaking this kiss you’d just have to go without.  Eventually though, you did have to break the kiss, but that didn’t mean you had to go far.  You could still feel the brush of Dick’s lips as you both took gulps of air.  You could see the stupid smile on his face and it made your heart do somersaults.

“Think I could kiss you again?”  Dick asked coyly, his voice barely above a whisper and you felt every syllable.

You let out a small laugh, “I don’t think you really have to ask.”

So obviously, he kissed you again.  And again.  And again.

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had so many ideas circling my crazed brain abt frat boy!dick grayson so i’m both kind of happy and annoyed with how this turned out

honorary rage cage mention

comment if u guys are interested in seeing headcanons for frat!dick grayson in the future

[er-osion]

Paparazzi

pairing:  Tim Drake x gn!Reader

summary:  Tim’s family finds out he’s in a relationship after some paparazzi photograph him on a date with you and publish the photo in the paper the next morning.

word count:  2.4k

warnings:  none, fluff

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The relationship was still fairly new, you and Tim had only been dating for about eight months.  Albeit, they have been some of the best eight months of Tim’s life, it’s still– in his mind– a fresh relationship.  The two of you are still very much learning each other and your dynamic.  Tim tries to spend every free minute he has with you, but he’s always busy so those minutes are few and far between.  Thankfully, you’re very understanding and patient with him, something he’s constantly thanking you for whenever the two of you are together.  He hasn’t told his family about the two of you yet because a superstitious part of him was worried that if he told them so early in the relationship, things would fall apart and he’d have to embarrassingly and painfully explain he’d fumbled the ultimate bag.

Because of how busy both you and Tim were, any time you two got together was sacred and was used to make up for all the lost time between you.  That’s why you two weren’t as hesitant about public dates or pda.  You weren’t a huge pda couple, but you weren’t as self-conscious about kissing or holding hands in public because the two of you saw it as one of the only times you got to be together.  Tim knew this ran the risk of the media harping on his public relationship, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when he went on dates with you, his only focus was savoring every second by your side.

You and Tim were on a date today.  He’d taken the whole day off to spend it with you, scheduled to align with your own day off.  The two of you even got up early to have even more hours together.  First, you got breakfast at a greasy but cozy diner, then you took a long stroll through the park (hand in hand, of course), then you hit up a little bookstore to browse the shelves quietly (Tim paid for every novel you could carry), next you did some shopping at one of the malls, and now, the two of you decided to take a little break in a quaint coffee shop.  You’d settled into a nice little booth next to the window, so the two of you could people-watch while you sipped your drinks and ate your little treats.  Even with you sitting across from him, Tim wasn’t going to let the distance stop him from feeling you, so his hand was clasping yours and resting atop the table (just the one hand so you both and a free one to eat and drink with).  

You and Tim talked incessantly, switching between listening attentively to the other and then infodumping yourselves.  One of the many things Tim loved about you was how free you made him feel.  The young man truly felt like he could be his unabashed self with you, there was no pressure to perform or meet a standard when he was with you; he knew you’d be happy with him no matter what he could accomplish.  He could totally nerd out to you, and whether you understood him or not, you’d respect him and take interest in his ramblings whole-heartedly.  Of course, the same feelings could be said for you.  Tim made you feel safe in a way you’d never felt before.  There was never a moment when you doubted your security around him.  Even with the fact that the two of you may not get as much time together as you might wish, that never made you feel neglected or unloved by your boyfriend.  Tim was so good at telling you how much you mattered, either with words or actions, that you never felt insecure about your position in his life.

Anyone passing by this coffee shop window could’ve seen how absolutely enraptured by you Tim was.  The boy had hearts in his eyes as he gazed at you, his attention fully captured (along with his heart and soul).  His fondness seeped through the glass and onto the street for any passerby to see.  That’s why he shouldn’t have been surprised that a passing member of the paparazzi took notice of his position in the coffee shop window and decided to make a meal out of it.  You can only imagine the elation that photographer must’ve felt when he caught the Tim Drake-Wayne sitting hand in hand with someone the media has never seen before, looking like this person had personally hung the stars in the sky for the young WE heir.  The photographer almost squealed with glee when Tim coincidentally leaned forward, across the table, to plant a sweet and lingering kiss on your forehead.  God, this could make the front page!

The rest of the day was spent in bliss for the two of you.  After the coffee shop, the two of you went to the store to buy some snacks and then you went back to your apartment to cuddle on the couch and watch some tv.  Tim stayed as long into the night as he could, before he gave you a long kiss goodnight and went back to his own place (to don the Red Robin costume you still didn’t know about) with a promise to text you in the morning.

***

Bruce had noticed some changes in his third son’s behavior the past several months, but he hadn’t really taken any time to investigate.  For one thing, the changes were positive (noticeably happier, seemingly more well-rested, healthy changes in diet, better moods, etc) so he didn’t feel a pressing need to investigate, since it wasn’t detrimental and therefore didn’t need fixing.  Plus, Bruce was so busy with everything else in his life that he didn’t necessarily have the time to keep detailed tabs on all of his kids’ personal lives right now.  Bruce had just kind of taken this slight shift in attitude with gratitude, since any betterment of his children’s well-being was a win for him, and hadn’t put too much energy into thinking of the causes.  

Bruce had come down for a late breakfast, still groggy from a late night of crime-fighting.  He sat in his usual spot at the head of the table and Alfred quickly came in to serve the man his typical breakfast.  After setting Bruce’s plate, Alfred handed him the newspaper, as was routine, with a small chuckle and a delighted smile.

“I think you’re going to find the news today rather interesting, Master Bruce,”  Alfred said in an almost mischievous air.

“Hn?”  was Bruce’s only response.  He picked up the paper and turned it over to read the headline, one so shocking he choked on his coffee.

Can A Playboy-Lifestyle Be Hereditary?

WE heir, Tim Drake-Wayne, spotted with yet another possible partner on a date in Gotham City

“Alfred,”  Bruce suddenly called after he’d wiped the coffee from his chin, “have you seen this?”

Alfred returned to Bruce’s side, snickering, “Yes, sir, I have.  Quite the pair, those two are; a handsome looking couple, really.”

Bruce wanted to question it so badly.  Did Tim really have a partner he didn’t know about?  He wanted to brush it off as just some tabloid junk, but the two photos on the front were glaringly obvious; if the way Tim was looking at you in the first photo wasn’t telltale enough, the kiss he was planting on your forehead in the second was the ultimate confirmation.

Now, Bruce didn’t know what to do.  Should he confront his son and ask how long he’d been in a relationship?  Should he wait for Tim to seek him out?  Should he talk to one of his other kids to see if they know anything?  He didn’t know how to go about this situation.  As if on cue, Bruce’s phone began blowing up, and it didn’t take his detective skills to know it was the Batfamily group chat absolutely going wild.

Stephanie:  [article link attached]  uhhhh timbo, care to explain why ur family finds out ur dating someone from VICKI VALE??

Dick:  omg no way

Jason:  how is this fucker always pulling bitches???

Damian:  Looking upon those images gave me the strong urge to vomit, please send a warning next time, Brown. And that poor person, whomever they may be, must be truly suffering.

Cassandra:  🥰🤗🙂‍↕️👏👏🫂🫂❤️‍🔥💗

Barbara:  I KNEW something was up with him, he’s been too happy recently.

Dick:  Awwww, i’m gonna cry

           So proud of you, baby bird 🥹

Jason:  this HAS to be a joke

Damian:  For once, I agree with Todd.  No human would willingly couple themselves with Drake, that’s just masochistic.

Stephanie:  watch it demon spawn

        STILL they’re sooooo cute, i agree with cass!

Barbara:  Maybe I should get my own unit of paparazzi watchdogs, they seem to be effective in uncovering dirt.

Stephanie:  tim, u BETTER introduce all of us next time

                    and ik ur just ignoring us, it’s too late in the day for u to still be asleep

Dick:  Yea, Tim, you gotta invite your partner over for family game night!

            That’d be so fun

Damian:  I think you mean disastrous, Grayson.

Barbara:  I agree with Damian, if one thing is gonna scare them off, a Wayne family game night will do it.

Jason:  i just realized, this person probably has some of the ugliest photos of tim on their phone…

Cassandra:  😂😂🤣🤣🤣😈😈😈

Stephanie:  jason, this is why ur a real one

Bruce could feel the headache coming on just reading the messages.  He almost felt bad for Tim, almost.  But the boy sealed his fate when he let the media spill his business before he got the chance to do it himself.

Tim felt his eye twitching as he watched his phone light up with notification after notification from his family group chat, along with a few messages from some of his Titans who’d seen the headline online.  He groaned and dragged a hand down his face.  Part of him was upset at this breach of his privacy, but another part of him was weirdly proud that now the whole world could see how much he loved you, how committed he was to you, and how together the two of you were.

Tim was going to try to distract himself from this mess by going through some cold case files when your face lit up his screen; an incoming call.  He answered it with an almost pathetic haste.

“Hey, pretty,”  he answered immediately.

“Hi, Tim,”  you replied on the other side of the line.  Tim heard you snicker and instantly knew what this was about.  “You seen the news?”  you asked coyly and Tim couldn’t help the twitch of his lips at the sound of your voice.

“It was probably the first thing I saw this morning,”  he replied honestly, letting his exasperation be a little dramatized.

You laughed and Tim’s heart soared, “Is it safe to assume your family is going nuts right now?”

“My phone hasn’t stopped buzzing since the article dropped.”

“Are you ever going to answer them?”  you asked teasingly, like you somehow knew he had been leaving them all on delivered this whole time.

“Probably not, I’ll probably let them brew conspiracy theories for the rest of their life, go into hiding, change my name, and move us to some off-the-grid farm in Switzerland,”  he said monotonously.

“You’d get so bored if we did that,”  you pointed out, and Tim’s heart went insane over the fact that you didn’t rebuke his implications of stealing you away across the world.

“Probably,”  he muttered in a kind of lovesick voice.

“So, do you think, now that the cat’s out of the bag, I can finally meet your family?”  you asked quietly, and Tim picked up on the slight waver in your voice.

“Well, that would be the natural next course of action,”  he logicized.

“You’ll have to plan that out with your family, though,”  you muttered to yourself before shifting focus, “When are you free next?”

Tim thought while he opened his calendar, “I’m not free next week, but the week after I’ve got Thursday and Friday off,”  he finally answered in a hopeful tone.

“Perfect, I’ve got Thursday afternoon off and the whole day Friday, so we can hang out either day,”  you answered with excitement.

Tim was about to say something else when he got the notification that Bruce was trying to call him.  “Hang on, sweetheart, B is trying to call me right now.  Can I call you back later?”  he grumbled.

“Of course, talk to you later, cutie,”  you assured as you hung up.

Tim then reluctantly picked up Bruce’s call and braced himself for whatever was to come.  “Hey, B,”  he said simply when he finally answered the call.

“Tim,”  Bruce’s gruff voice began and Tim could hear the exhaustioning plaguing his adoptive father’s voice, “Are you coming by the manor today, or will you be spending the day conveniently at the office?”

“I was planning on doing the convenient thing,”  Tim snarked.

“Hn.  Well… you should make sure to come in time for dinner.”

“Why?”  Tim quizzed in a very suspicious voice.

“Family dinner,”  was Bruce’s short response.  Tim knew what that meant; all his siblings would be there to grill him on his newly discovered relationship.  Tim let out a long sigh.

“Fine, I’ll be there.”

“Good.  See you then,”  Bruce concluded in his normal monotone.

“Yep, see ya, Bruce.”  Tim had barely finished his sentence before his father hung up the phone.

It was safe to say that at dinner that night, Tim was barely able to touch his own food; he spent the whole time fielding questions from his family of gossiping detectives.  Part of him was, admittedly, flattered by the attention that they were not only giving him, but you too.  But the majority of him was extremely annoyed and worn out by his family’s inexhaustible questions.  As soon as dinner was over, and he got a moment away from his far too inquisitive family, he called you to complain and moan about the horrid dinner he’d been put through.  You got much amusement from his clear (over dramatic) misery.  When you saw him two weeks later, you even convinced him to reenact the whole thing so you got a front row seat to the drama.  You could only hope that his family got out all their incessant questions with Tim before your inevitable meeting with them.

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tim drake pulls major bitches and i think we, as a community, forget abt that waaaaaay too much

i love u tim drake and ur canonical, unspoken rizz

[er-osion]

Fights Like These

pairing:  Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary:  Reader and Jason get into a fight which causes Jason to storm out, in the separation, both you and Jason begin to fear the worst

word count:  3.0k

warnings:  angst, hurt/comfort

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“I don’t think I’m asking for that much!”  You cried for what felt like the fiftieth time tonight.

“Yeah, you think that ‘cause you don’t understand the reality of the situation!”  Jason fired back harshly.

“Don’t make me out to be an idiot, Jason, I understand the conditions of dating you, if I didn’t I would’ve left by now.”

“You say that yet you keep demanding things you should know are off limits.”

“I don’t think wanting a check-in every once in a while while you’re away is something that’s off limits.”

“You know I can’t be compromising the missions just to answer one of your texts.”

“God, you make it sound like me trying to make sure you’re okay if some fucking burden.”

“When you don’t know how to lay off, it sure can be fucking annoying,”  Jason snapped, and you took a wobbly step back, completely taken aback by his jarring statement.

You and Jason had been at it for the better part of the last two hours.  He’d recently come back from an international mission that had had him away from you for over two weeks, during which his communication was spotty at best.  You knew it was hard for him to find time to keep up a regular text chain with you when he was on these types of missions, and you also knew he had to be extra careful about communicating with anyone other than his teammates, for safety and security reasons on both sides.  You knew this, which is why you were always careful to only really text him when you wanted to check in on him and make sure he was still alive.  No matter how badly you wanted to blow up his phone every second of every day he was away from you, you tried your hardest to keep it low key, to not distract him or put either of you at risk.

But this latest mission, he’d been extra unresponsive, and if he did respond, the texts were lack-luster at best.  You never even got a phone call from him, not once, not once for the whole three weeks.  And to your credit, you didn’t spring these problems first thing when he came back.  No, you had let him resettle, rest, and recuperate for four days before mentioning anything about how you’d been hurt and worried from his lack of communication.  The two of you had had arguments about this before; him always saying you’re asking too much from him in this regard and you pointing out that there are certain standards for partners, even vigilante partners.  However, the two of you had never had a fight about it.  This time, everything was especially volatile and neither of you were willing to step back, so things were just getting more and more tense.

The problem with Jason was, when he got angry or felt like he was being backed into a corner, his natural instincts were to lash out.  Taking shots, whether physical or verbal, is his first line of defense when facing confrontation; a believer in that saying ‘offense is the best defense’.  But that approach tends to cause problems when trying to work through an emotionally fraught situation with loved ones.  Both of you know this, both of you are well aware of his triggers and typical reactions.  But you don’t want to coddle him at your own expense and sometimes Jason is too caught up trying to “protect” himself to try working on his coping mechanisms.  

That’s how you got here.  Yelling at each other in the living room of your shared apartment.  Your patience, which was usually very good for your boyfriend, had worn dangerously thin, and Jason was having to restrain himself from throwing a plate at the wall from all the overwhelming feelings that were hitting him.

“You were gone for three weeks, three weeks.  I already know very little about what you’re doing when you’re not in Gotham, and it’s not like I can easily contact your teammates.  The only way I can know if you’re safe, if you’re alive is through those texts and phone calls.  Otherwise, I’m sitting here in the dark, wondering whether or not my boyfriend is okay, if I’m ever going to see you again.  So forgive me if I’m a little desperate for any communication from you when you’re away, it’s quite literally the only thing keeping me sane during that time.  But no, you’d rather be mad at me for wanting to hear from you; you’d rather call me annoying and thoughtless because I got upset at the fact you barely responded to me and didn’t even call me the whole time you were away.”  When you’d finished your rant, you were out of breath, your chest heaving with how worked up you were.  Your throat was tight and you were holding back tears, just overwhelmed with this whole fight, your emotions were all over the place.  Looking at your boyfriend was torture, you wanted to violently shake him, and scream at him, and cry at him.  Usually, you could read him like a book because you were just that in tune with him, but right now, your own feelings were clouding your vision and the man in front of you felt indecipherable.  

Jason was silent.  His brain was so fired up, it was having a hard time forming his next sentence or a coherent line of reasoning.  

He inhaled sharply and when he spoke, his voice was scarily hushed with a quiet and restrained anger, “The fact that I even respond when I do is something.  I don’t think you appreciate how much effort I put out just to answer one of your texts when I’m on a mission.  All you ever do is bug me for more more more, can’t you ever be fucking happy with what I’m giving right now?!”

You froze.  Something bitter and cold solidified in your stomach.  

You knew he didn’t mean it that harshly.  You knew he was being extra hurtful because he was overwhelmed, he didn’t actually think that way about you.  But right now, even that knowledge didn’t do anything to ease the pain invading your heart.  It was hard to breathe.

“You are being a fucking asshole, Jason Todd,” you bristled, with a voice filled with a hushed but cold furry.  But, the tears welling in your eyes and the voice crack when you forced out his full name betrayed the hurt you were feeling.

“Fuck this,”  Jason muttered as he spun around and grabbed his coat and boots.

Panicking, you take a few strides closer to him as he starts heading for the door.  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”  You exclaimed, alarmed and mind reeling.

“For a walk,”  Jason replied shortly, and not waiting for a response, he walked out of the door, not quite slamming it, but closing it far more aggressively than he usually does.

The sound of the door thumping shut reverberated in the apartment, and you felt its echo rattle your bones.  You bit your lip in an effort to fight back the sob threatening to break through, but it did little to stop the flood, as the dam had been broken.  A choked, pained noise escaped your throat as the tears finally came pouring down your face.  Your heart was breaking and clenching so painfully in your chest, it felt like your whole sternum was caving in on itself.

Your mind was racing, too many thoughts at once that you couldn’t keep up with yourself.  The anxiety that was creeping in was beginning to take root and just completely torment you.  Could this be what kills your relationship with Jason?  Is this him walking out on you?  Were you really too demanding?  Were you invasive?  Annoying?  Was he sick of you?  Was he going to come back and break up with you?  Was he going to come back at all?

You felt like throwing up.  How had this spiralled to this point?

The apartment was too empty.  The whole place was so cold without him, especially under the conditions he’d just left.  You felt like a ghost in your own home.  Everything in the apartment was mocking you, every knicknack that symbolized your togetherness was laughing at you and your pitiful state.  It was silent, except for the sound of your sobs, and it was suffocating.  

Needing to get out of the living room, the battlefield from which you’d retired yourself, you lumbered to your shared bedroom.  The coldness and emptiness of the bed, the bed that was made for two, only added to your anguish and pulled out another violent fit of tears from you.  You had no clue when Jason planned on returning to your apartment, if he would at all, so you let yourself curl into a ball, gripping tightly onto his pillow and cry yourself to sleep.

Meanwhile, Jason was aggressively wandering the maze of Gotham’s streets, trying to outrun his own thoughts and feelings.  Jason didn’t know why he decided to go for this ‘walk’ he just knew he needed to be away from your apartment.  The rational part of him understood where you were coming from.  Jason knew he’d been less active in responding to you during this mission, and he knew that your desire for texts and calls wasn’t you trying to be overbearing, it was just you worrying about him.  And part of him felt guilty for making you worry so much by not responding to you, he truly didn’t want you to be so caught up in his safety.  But he still couldn’t help himself from worrying about communicating with you during missions.  It puts you at such a higher risk of discovery or interception.  And he couldn’t afford any distractions, even though you weren’t really a distraction, he was just currently trying to find every excuse he could to justify his own actions.

Jason had hoped that the “fresh” air would help him clear his head.  He’d hoped that being out in the city for a bit would help him remember the bigger picture and put this fight into perspective so he could be refreshed and cleansed.  But this distance was doing anything but.  The sounds of Gotham were harassing his ears and the air was sending knives through his chest.  He felt claustrophobic as he stormed through the streets.  There was no recentering to be found, no relief or resuscitation like he was desperate for.

Jason kept picturing your apartment, you.  What are you doing right now?  Were you cursing him?  Were you packing your things?  Had he just doomed your relationship by walking out?  Did you hate him?  Was he going to come back to you telling him things were over and he needed to move out?  Why did he have to be such an asshole sometimes?

The longer he spent out in Gotham and away from your apartment, the more the hole in his chest grew.  Finally, after who knows how long, Jason turned back around and hastened back to the apartment.

When Jason stepped inside, the first thing he noticed was how quiet, how still everything was.  Like the very air was holding its breath in expectation of some gruesome discovery.  The lights are off, and the shadows being cast in the cozy apartment are whispering reminders of the crimes he’d committed here tonight; it makes his stomach turn uneasily.

Scared of disturbing this glass-like stillness, Jason takes off his boots and coat with a practiced stealth.  Maybe he’s also scared of you knowing he’s home yet, maybe he needs another minute to prepare himself for whatever the aftermath of a fight looks like.  The two of you have never fought before, he doesn’t know what to expect, how to plan for moving past this.  

Stalling a little more, Jason gets ready for bed mindlessly.  His heart picks up speed more and more the closer he gets to the end of the routine, since at the end he’ll either find where you’ve taken refuge in the apartment after the fight, or he’ll find that you left.

Finally, he makes his way, silently, to your shared bedroom and Jason can’t decide whether he does or doesn’t want to see you there, not sure if he has the strength for either situation.  When he enters your bedroom though, his heart stutters and he’s frozen in place.

You’re curled in on yourself, and he can tell by your breathing that you’re asleep.  You’re laying on top of the duvet and Jason can see your goosebumps from here.  As carefully as possible, Jason moves to your side of the bed.  Taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to you, he can finally get a good look at you, and the sight absolutely breaks his heart.

The light from Gotham seeps in through your curtains and illuminates the tear stains on your cheeks.  Your face is frozen in a frown, lips downturned and clearly having been bitten relentlessly.  Your whole body is tense, like the slightest move might fracture or unravel you.  You must’ve fallen asleep crying.  The mere thought is enough to make Jason want to cry.  And the worst part is knowing that he did this to you.  He was the cause of your misery.  Jason clenched and unclenched his fists in his pants as he stared at your sleeping form.

Suddenly, as if you subconsciously sensed his presence, your eyes cracked open and he watched as your foggy mind processed who was sitting above you.  Then, he watched as a storm of emotions came in to cloud your eyes, flickering between surprise, sadness, anger, confusion, hopefulness, distress, and relief, and he felt himself experiencing all of it and more right along with you.  

The two of you just stared at each other in silence, not moving or making any effort to speak for several minutes, before finally your voice cracked out a broken, “Jason?” that tore the large man’s heart to shreds.

“Yeah, it’s me, angel,”  he croaked.

Against your will, tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, you had not the strength to stop them from falling.

“I’m sorry,”  you sniveled, almost pathetically as your face broke further.

Jason’s eyes went wide with panic and confusion, “Sorry?  What’re you sorry for?  I should be the one who’s sorry,”  he blurted out, his hands flying to find yours and encompass them in a tight grip.

You sniffled, “I’m sorry,”  was all you seemed capable of saying at the moment.

“No, baby, no, please don’t be sorry.  I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have said what I said to you.  I shouldn’t have just dismissed you like that.  You were valid in your worry, and I know how much it means to you to have me text and call you when I’m away.  And honestly?  It does just as much for me as it does you.  Seeing your messages, calling you when I get the chance, it reminds me of what I’m fighting for and the home I have to return to when I’m away.  I’m sorry I was being such a bitch about not communicating during this mission.  I’m sorry I made you feel like this,”  Jason rambled and took you in his arms.  He held you in his lap, encasing you against him and holding you close, as if you’d disappear if he wasn’t latched onto you.

“I’m sorry we fought.  I didn’t want to fight.  I don’t want to be overbearing or annoying.  I don’t want to fight with you,”  You wept into his chest, your tears wetting his cotton t-shirt.  You balled your fist in the material and clung tightly to Jason, the feeling of being held by your boyfriend the most grounding and comforting feeling in that moment.

“No, no, I’m sorry we fought.  I’m sorry I hurt you, I never want you to feel like this, ever,”  Jason confessed, pressing his lips against your temple.  Then, the two of you sat in silence, him holding you like one does their most prized possession, pressing kisses to the top of your head and letting his thumbs rub soothingly wherever they were settled.  You nuzzled your head into his neck and breathed him in, his familiar scent washing over you like a comfort you’d never known.  You let the last of your tears fall and Jason finally felt his throat opening up after a long night of being wrapped in barbed wire.  Then, after some long minutes in that position, Jason wordlessly maneuvered the two of you so you were laying under the covers of your bed.

Now, Jason pulled you back into his chest and you wrapped your arm around his abdomen.  Jason ran his hand up and down your back as you kissed his collarbone over and over again.  Even though your anxieties were still there, every second spent in your boyfriend’s embrace lessened them more and more.  All of the lingering questions and fears became smaller as you cuddled further into the large arms of your boyfriend, and the same could be said for Jason.

“I love you,”  Jason said, his voice steady for the first time that whole night.

“I love you, too,”  you whispered with another kiss to his collarbone.

“I love you far more than I know what’s good for me,”  Jason admitted with a quiet chuckle.

“For the record, if you ever walk out like that again, you spend the night on the couch,”  you declared, with light severity in your voice.

Jason pressed a long kiss to the top of your head, “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting anything like this ever happen again.”

“Good, because I don’t think I have the stamina to get that mad at you again.”

“I don’t have the stamina to get that mad at myself again.”

“Did I already tell you I love you?”  You asked with faux curiosity, blinking up at him.

Jason’s eyes lit up and a small smile tugged at his lips, “Yes, but I’d be inclined to hear it again.”

“I love you,”  you spoke resolutely into the night.

Jason bent his neck at an awkward angle so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips, “I love you more.”

[er-osion]

Pet Names They Call You

pairing: [separate] bruce wayne x gn!reader, dick grayson x gn!reader, jason todd x gn!reader, tim drake x gn!reader, duke thomas x gn!reader

summary: headcanons about the batboy’s favorite nicknames/pet names for you as their partner.

word count:  126

warnings: none, fluff

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

Bruce Wayne  –   my love, chéri(e) [french for ‘darling’], beloved, dearest, precious

Dick Grayson   –   lovebug, honey, snookums, sugar, mi piramni (should translate to ‘my love’ in Romani, but I had to use an online translator so please tell me if that translation isn’t correct)

Jason Todd   –   angel, love, darling, hot stuff, treasure

Tim Drake   —   pretty, pickle (i headcannon that tim is one of those pickle lovers so this is a high complement), sweetheart, dear, puffin (fun fact: atlantic puffins mate for life and share one nest their whole life, since tim is a fucking nerd he’d def know this which i think is just really cute)

Duke Thomas   –   sunshine (b/c his powers come from light, and you are the light of his life aha), carebear, goober, beautiful, sweet pea

[er-osion]

Extra! Extra! Tim Drake Spotted With Dazzling Date at WE Gala

pairing:  Tim Drake x gn!Reader

summary:  Tim brings his partner, Reader, to a Wayne Enterprises event and everyone is shocked to see the young heir with a date

word count:  3.5k

warnings:  none, fluff

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

To say you were nervous for tonight was an understatement.  Tonight, you were to accompany your boyfriend, Tim, to a gala for his family’s company, Wayne Enterprises, as his date.  You and Tim hadn’t been dating for super long, just nine months, but he’d been the one to excitedly pose the idea of the two of you going together, and who were you to say no to your boyfriend, who had the most evil puppy dog eyes known to man.  

At first, you’d actually been really excited for the gala.  You didn’t get to go to these things often, and to get to go to one with Tim made it extra special.  But as the day approached, you felt your anxiety grow and grow.  This would be a big night.  Not just for Wayne Enterprises, but for you and Tim.  Out of all of his siblings, Tim spent the most time in the news because of his active role in Bruce’s company.  This also meant that his life was under a lot of scrutiny and anything he did had the potential to make headlines.  Thus, you were starting to worry about all the ways tonight could possibly go wrong.  The last thing you wanted to do was make a fool out of yourself and then to see it in the news the next morning.

You’ve spent the last several hours switching between pacing the room (Tim’s bedroom), fiddling with your finery for the evening, and sitting and staring ominously at your reflection.  Your pacing and mental obsessing was abruptly halted when the door opened and Tim walked into the room.  He had his phone up to his ear and it didn’t take you long to realize he was talking to someone from WE.  You stood still in the center of the room, picking at your fingers while waiting for Tim to finish his phone call.  You took the moment to look at him, and it only worsened your anxiety.  Tim looked like the poster boy of Old Money Business Nepotism, and God did he pull it off.  His hair was neatly styled, his suit pressed and tailored to fit him perfectly.  You could make out muscle definition from the cut of his suit, but not enough to look imposing, just enough to highlight his youth and fitness.  You even noted his cuff links, cuff links; no doubt one was engraved for the Drake family and the other for the Waynes.  Looking at him, the picture of wealth and professionalism, you were suddenly filled with doubt about whether or not you could do this.  Would you really be able to stand next to him tonight without making him look bad?  Would everyone judge you for not being up to par for Tim’s society?  Would everyone judge Tim for sinking to your level by dating you?

You must’ve zoned out while ogling at your boyfriend and worrying about if you were worthy of him, because you didn’t notice when Tim put his phone in his pocket after saying his goodbyes to whoever he had been talking to.  Tim cocked his head to the side but smiled lightly at the vision of you standing in your regalia, looking absolutely scintillating.  

Tim crossed the room to stand in front of you and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, “Hi, Puffin, how’re you doing?”  Tim asked softly and it snapped you out of your mental whirlwind.  You could detect relief in his voice and you guessed he’d had a long day organizing everything for tonight.

“Great,”  you lied, “how are you doing?”  you tossed back with a pointed smile.

Tim groaned exasperatedly, “Great,”  he also lied.

“Liar,”  you countered with a raised eyebrow.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same to you,”  Tim fired back, copying your expression.  You sighed and Tim brought his hand up to cradle your face which you instinctively leaned into.  “What’s going on, sweetheart?”  Tim asked seriously, his eyes narrowing like they did when he had just been introduced to a new and puzzling crime to solve.

You shifted your weight on your feet, looking down at the shoes Tim had recently bought you for the event.  “I guess I’m just a little anxious for tonight.”

“You and me both.”

“Yeah but you’ve done this before.  And everyone already likes you.  I’m the newbie, I’m Tim Drake’s date, the person everyone’s going to be looking at, waiting for me to mess up so they can print it en masse in the papers tomorrow.”

“That’s what you're worried about?”  Tim asked with a breath that almost sounded like a chuckle.

“I’m worried we’re going to walk in there and everyone’s going to immediately notice how much better you are than me, that they’ll see us together and think I’m some charity case you’ve decided to take on because you’re such a benevolent person,” you rambled suddenly.

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed and a frown took over his face.  He’d never even thought that that might be a worry of yours, that was always something he was thinking about in regards to himself.  “Sweetheart,”  he paused, struggling for words to ward off your worries, “I understand you’re worried— and I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings— but I’m telling you, that’s not going to happen.  You are brilliant, sensational, stunning, marvelous–”

“Tim.”  You cut him off with a groan.

“Sorry sorry.  What I’m trying to say is that there’s not an inch of you that doesn’t belong here by my side.  You belong anywhere you want to be because you’re deserving of everything you want to have.  I don’t want you to worry that you won’t be good enough for those people tonight, ‘cause that’ll never be true.  And even if you wake up tomorrow feeling disappointed about how tonight went, I don’t want you to blame yourself because if there’s going to be anyone to blame, then it’ll be the crowd for a lapse in judgement,”  Tim concluded his speech with surety in his voice and a firmness in his gaze that sent your heart into a frenzy.

You laughed softly, “Maybe you missed your shot at a career as a coach giving his half-time speech while his team is losing at the championships.”

“Har har har, I was being serious, you know,”  Tim poked with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

“I know,”  you kissed his cheek and enjoyed the way his ears dusted pink, “that’s why I like you.”

“Yeah yeah, I like you too,”  he grumbled and gave your shin a gentle kick.  “We gotta leave soon, anything you need to finish before we head out?”  Tim quickly straightened and looked about the room, searching for clues of something he may have missed.

“No, I’m all ready,”  you told him confidently.

“Okay cool,”  Tim left your side to spritz some cologne and fix some invisible issue with his suit in the mirror.  You smirked at his fusing and waited for him to take your side again.

“Ready now, handsome?”  You asked, a lilt in your voice that caused Tim’s stomach to burst into butterflies.

“Yep, let’s go, pretty.”

***

Wayne Enterprises had rented out one of Gotham’s gallerias for the event tonight, and no short cuts were taken in decking the place out.  Everyone and everything within the galleria’s walls was the epitome of splendor.

You’d thought you’d gotten control of your anxiety on the drive from Wayne Manor to the event location, but now that you and Tim were walking up the long staircase, you were starting to feel the dread creep back into your bones.

Sensing your growing anxiety, since he had a sixth sense for you, Tim expertly took your arm in his and gave your forearm a quick but reassuring squeeze with his free hand.  Just before the two of you entered the galleria, Tim dipped his head down to whisper in your ear, “You’re the picture of perfection, puffin, I got you.”

Your lips twitched in a smile and then the two of you were blinded as you stepped foot into the event.  The tall room was loud with chatter and music from a live band, everything was glittering and polished and reflective.  Half the room seemed to be talking business while the other half gossiped.  You already felt exhausted.

As soon as you and Tim entered the room, people were already running up to greet you, or more like they were running up to greet Tim.  When they noticed you hanging off of his arm, they gave you a confused head tilt but quickly reverted to the practiced pleasantries of business society.  Tim handled the conversations fluidly; watching him, you might mistake him for enjoying this sort of thing. 

Tim took the two of you about the room, exchanging small talk with his various associates and society friends, all of which were beginning to take a keen interest in you.  At some point, one couple decided to address the two of you directly about your relationship.

“So, Mr. Drake, who is this lovely person you’ve brought with you tonight?”  The woman asked, her question sounded cold but her eyes were friendly so you couldn’t decide if you needed to be on your guard or not.

“They’re my date, Mrs. Willson, we’ve been dating for several months now,”  Tim answered matter-of-factly, and you couldn’t help the pride bubbling in your chest at the way he plainly validated your relationship in public.

The couple’s eyes widened but they quickly looked at you and smiled sweetly, “That’s wonderful, Mr. Drake, the two of you are the picture vitality and good fortune,”  the woman complimented.

“Yes, you two make a handsome couple, we’re glad to see that things are going smoothly,”  the woman’s husband added sincerely.

“Thank you very much, I’m glad we’ve been so well received,”  Tim replied courteously, but you picked up on the giddiness in his voice, no doubt he was just as happy for the compliments as you were.

Turning back to you, the woman said, “It was truly a pleasure to meet you, hopefully this isn’t the last time.”

“I’m sure it won’t be, and the pleasure was all mine,”  you answered with more confidence than you’d had all night.  The couple then excused themselves and wandered off to find some other friends of theirs, leaving you and your boyfriend alone for a moment.

You looked at him with a gleam in your eyes, your voice hushed to try and maintain some privacy in a room full of people, “Ya hear that?  We make a handsome couple,”  you reiterated with a dramatization.

Tim’s face cracked into a boyish smile, “Yes, the picture of vitality and youth.  Why, aren’t we just wondrous?”  Tim replied with a flourish.  You had to suppress what would’ve been a squeal of satisfaction with how well this night had been going.  Tim noted your excitement and grinned, leaning in to get his face closer to yours, no doubt scandalously close, “See, I told you there was nothing for you to worry about.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped playfully on his foot, “Have I ever told you how much I hate when you say ‘I told you so’?”  You whispered in a low, fluttery tone.

“Oh but it’s so much fun,”  Tim parried with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“C’mon Mr. Drake, I believe you have some investors to be seducing right now,”  You changed the subject with a smirk.

Tim grimaced, “You make it sound so weird.”

“That’s damn near what it is,”  You rebuked in a deadpan.

“Ugh, I’m not opening this can of worms with you right now,”  Tim concluded with a roll of his eyes.  He then pivoted the two of you so you could resume your stroll about the room.

For the whole night, Tim’s arms never left you, always tangled with your own, never letting anyone or anything tear you two apart.  You were starting to think he needed your company just as much as you needed his to get you through the event.

Throughout the gala, the two of you were gawked at and adulated.  You couldn’t keep count of the amount of people who had complimented you and your relationship.  Some seemed to be doing so more to keep up an image but more seemed genuinely pleased to see you joining the social circle as Tim’s partner.  You’d had to answer many of the same questions for several hours, which did get a little tedious, but getting to brag about your relationship was an opportunity you didn’t mind getting to indulge in; you had a fantastic boyfriend, why wouldn’t you take the opportunity to flaunt that?  But getting to hear Tim do the talking instead was almost better.  Getting to hear him gush about how happy you made him, how you brightened up his life, how he didn’t think he’d ever meet someone as bewitching as you made your heart flutter incessantly in your chest.  It was one thing to hear him say all of this to you in the privacy of your room, but to hear him declare it so proudly in front of all these people, despite his usual reserved nature, was a real treat that you relished.

“When did you two start dating?”

“How did the two of you meet?”

“Who asked who out?”

“When did you meet the family?”

“What are your future plans?”

“What are you doing now?”

These were just some of the many questions you’d been fielding the whole night.  By the end of the event, your tongue was starting to feel limp with all the exercise it’d been getting.  As the evening was wrapping up, you and Tim sought some brief respite in a darkened corner by the drink table, this is where Tim’s adoptive father found the two of you.

“Busy night, I presume.”  Bruce’s suave voice sailed into your ears, and you both turned your heads to find him approaching you discreetly, clearly trying not to draw too much attention to you.  Something you were silently grateful for.

Tim scoffed with a roll of his eyes and you gave Bruce a tired laugh.

“I don’t know how you do it, Mr. Wayne, if I had to take all this questioning at every event I go to, I’d become a recluse,”  You joked with slightly dramatic exasperation.

Bruce snorted, “Believe me, I’ve thought about it,”  the older man then turned to his son, “the event’s going well, congratulations,”  he said bluntly.

Tim shrugged but you knew he was internally cheering at the praise from his father, “It wasn’t all me, Lucius helped a lot.”

“I know, I already gave him my congratulations.”

Tim fell silent, he couldn’t brush off that kind of response so he simply pursed his lips.

“You’ve been doing great, too,”  Bruce said, facing you.

You straightened, a little surprised to have been addressed again, “Oh thanks,”  you said, unsure exactly how to continue.

“I know these kinds of things can be overwhelming for people who aren’t used to it, but you look like a natural out there.”

This truly lifted a weight off your shoulder.  You knew Bruce wouldn’t just say that if he didn’t mean it, and that kind of reassurance really helped.  Tim glanced at you and smiled lightly.  He knew you were doing great, but there was only so much he could convince you of.

A few minutes later, you and Tim had to desert your little sanctuary corner so Tim could give his closing remarks to the crowd, alongside Bruce and Lucius.  You watched with pride as your boyfriend spoke confidently and eloquently, thanking everyone for coming and ending on a note about the bright future of Wayne Enterprises and its associates.  You and Tim waited behind while all the other guests slowly filed out of the galleria, Tim talking with the other board members while he kept you close by his side.  You could feel his tiredness leaking out of his bones and you honestly weren’t doing much better yourself.  But being beside each other gave both of you the energy you needed to round out the night.

Finally, the two of you slowly walked down the steps of the galleria, toward the car Alfred had organized to take you back to the manor.  Throughout the night, you and Tim had kept the PDA to a minimum, not feeling like it would’ve been appropriate for the event.  But now that most were gone, Tim took the opportunity to plant a soft but lingering kiss on your cheek, one that silently thanked you for staying by his side the whole night, being his strength, and reminded you how much he adored you.  You felt your face heat up at the affection that exuded from the simple action and your heart went crazy within the confines of your ribcage.

In your ear, Tim whispered, “Have I told you how spectacular you are recently?”

You chuckled and side-eyed him, “No, you haven’t,”  you teased.

“Hmm, I guess that makes me a terrible boyfriend,”  He said with disappointment in his voice but a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Guess so,”  you agreed solemnly, “if only there was a way you could make up for it.”

Tim turned his head to look at you full on, eyes sparkling with mischief, “We’ll come up with something.”

“Surely,”  you resolved with a giggle.

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

Bonus:

When you woke up the next morning, Tim was already awake, reading the paper beside you in bed.  He had a sort of self-satisfied smirk and you assumed Wayne Enterprises must’ve gotten good press from last night’s event.  Tim’s gaze slid to your figure, you offered a lazy smile and Tim’s grin broadened.

“Morning, sleepy,”  He said with quiet playfulness, giving you a quick peck on the tip of your nose.

You scrunched your nose at the tickling action and replied with a voice still dripping with sleep, “Morning.”  You tore your gaze from the alluring pools of blue you’d been staring into to glance at the paper in Tim’s nimble hands, “Good news, I hope,”  you said, motioning to the paper.

Tim’s eyes brightened and his lips pulled somehow wider, “Nothing but,”  he said, proudly flipping the paper so you could read the headline.

Tim Drake takes dazzling date to WE gala, socialites are a flutter

A grin grew slowly over your face as the words sank in.  You looked back up at Tim, and could see excitement mirroring in his eyes.

“So I’m dazzling now, huh?”  You bragged.

“We’ve sent the socialites a flutter,”  Tim exaggerated, then he moved the paper so he could read some choice quotes from the article theatrically, “Drake and his partner stunned the crowd at the Wayne Enterprises gala, many guests commenting on the suitability of the pair.”  You chuckled and Tim continued with another quote, “the couple was even spotted sharing a tender moment in which young Drake kissed his date’s cheek as they departed from the galleria; many are already speculating whether Drake will end up settling down before his adoptive father, infamous playboy, Bruce Wayne.”

At this you outright laughed and Tim shared a chuckle.  Then, Tim dropped the paper in favor of leaning on his arm so he could hover over you.  “You hear that, sweetheart?  Sounds like Gotham’s already planning our wedding for us,”  He baited.

“Better pick a good venue then, and good caterers, otherwise I will be leaving the city a very poor Yelp review,”  you joked with faux severity.  

Tim laughed from above you, “Such high standards, you have.”

“Yeah, but they’re flexible, clearly, since we’re dating,”  you jested with a smirk.

Tim gauffed with fake hurt, “Terrible, absolutely terrible.  What would Gotham say if they heard their new favorite celebrity couple quarreling like this?”

“Hmm good point, better keep up our image of a happy couple. We can’t let the tabloids fall back on their usual reporting about what heinous outfit your father wore to a board meeting at his company.”

Tim laughed again and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I know it’s a little early, but I want to secure my spot in advance, so I want to ask; will you be my date to the next event I have to go to?”

You smiled more gently this time, as you picked up on the slight insecurity in his inflection that reminded you of his crippling self-esteem issues, “Of course I want to be your date, I want to be your date to any and every event you have to go to,”  you avowed, with a sincerity in your voice and gaze that shook Tim a little.  Tim brought a hand up to your cheek and rubbed his thumb over your cheek bone, simply gazing at you like you held everything in the world.

“You’re the best thing in my life,”  Tim said quietly but with a candor that left no room for argument.

Instead of trying to come up with a response, you simply pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and smiled up at him, hoping he understood the message that you felt the same.

[er-osion]

omggg u guys, just hit my fist 1,000 notes on one post!!! i’m beyond grateful for all ur support 😭😭🫶🫶

the fact that so many people enjoy my writing means so much. i’m so happy to be providing decent fanfics for such wonderful people, thank u all so much

kisses mwa ❣️

[er-osion]

happy birthday mary shelley, you will always be famous

she is an icon, she is a legend, and she IS the moment

thank you for inventing sci-fi/horror fiction

[er-osion]

Lights Out

pairing:  Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary:  You and Jason Todd are neighbors.  When the power goes out in your building, right in the middle of your true-crime binge, you are grateful to run into him and have him over to keep you company.

word count:  3.6k

warnings:  none, fluff

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Comedic timing was one thing, but this was just sick.  You were in the middle of hour three of your BuzzFeed Unsolved binge and, of course, that’s when the power to your whole block goes out.  And when you’d looked out of your window, it looked like the outage extended even further.  No matter how far it went though, you were plunged into darkness and eerie silence right as the second theory of who was responsible for the slew of murders was being explained at the end of your current episode.

Instinctively, you yelped and almost tossed your bowl of popcorn when everything went dark.  You went completely still for several long seconds as you processed the power outage.  You tried telling yourself that this wasn’t strange and that you weren’t being targeted by some unknown psycho killer; you weren’t about to become the plot of a new BuzzFeed Unsolved episode.  

Slowly, you got up from your couch and looked out your windows to try and determine how much of Gotham had been plunged in darkness.  After a brief sweep of the horizon, you wandered around your apartment, gathering all the flashlights, lamps, and candles you had for events like these.  You set them strategically about your apartment to try and maximize the lighting.  After doing all of this, you tried to retake your spot on the couch and maybe find something to do to pass the time, but the flickering and dim lights scattered about your home did little to ease the growing nerves setting your stomach a light.

Sighing, you got up and began pacing panickedly.  You didn’t know how long you had been going back and forth, but suddenly, your mind decided it was done with that and sprung you toward your door.  You figured you should go into the hallway and see if anyone else was outside, that way you may not have to be alone during the whole outage.

This new plan reassured and renewed you and you stepped out into the main hallway of your floor.  It was hard to see in the darkness of the hall.  No lights were available, and the closest windows were at the other end of the hallway, so very little light made its way to you.  After a couple of anxious seconds, you were about to turn back to the safety of your apartment when the door across from you opened and you instantly straightened.

You were barely able to discern the looming figure of your neighbor as he stepped out of his place and into the hallway, but you knew who it was.  Of course you knew who it was, he was the hottest neighbor, nay, man, you’d ever met in your entire life and he’d been living across from you for close to three years now.

You’d spoken to Jason Todd on several occasions, most being quick and superficial at best, but there was undoubtedly friendliness between the two of you.  He was always eager to help you if he caught you in a moment where it looked like you needed it, and you always expressed the same desire to repay his kindness with your own whenever you had the chance.

You had been trying so hard to determine the outline of his figure that you almost missed when he called your name in question of if it was you, but you picked up on it and were quick to reply in the affirmative.

“I don’t think I need to ask if your power went out too,”  was the next thing out of his mouth and you felt your lips involuntarily twitch upward.

“Yeah, I think the whole neighborhood is down,”  you added, not really knowing how to continue but desperately wanting to cling to any conversation with your unfairly attractive neighbor.

“I hate power outages, they’re so inconvenient,”  Jason grumbled sourly and you got the distinct feeling he’d just crossed his arms in annoyance, though it was hard to tell in the dark.

“Yeah, well you’re not the one who's been watching true-crime documentaries all night and now has to deal with a power outage in one of the most crime ridden cities in the country,”  You remarked pointedly.

Jason made a sound that sounded something like a laugh, “You’re not scared of the dark, are you?”  He asked with an almost teasing lilt.

You scoffed, “No, but anyone would have a bit of the heebie jeebies in this situation,”  You countered indignantly.

“Right.”

“You know, if you don’t want to be helpful, you can just go sit in your apartment, in the dark, by yourself,”  You irked.

“Aw, I’m sorry for not taking you so seriously,”  Jason began teasingly, “Did you need someone to check to make sure there are no monsters under your bed?”

You rolled your eyes so aggressively that, even in the dark, you were sure he picked up on it, “Hardy har har, aren’t you hilarious.  If you’re done being a git, I’m going back inside, thank you very much,”  You finalized sternly.

“Wait,”  Jason held up his hand, his voice suddenly more serious, “I was mostly joking, but seriously, if you don’t want to be alone right now we can hang out, I know Gotham ain’t exactly the most fun place to experience an outage in.”

You paused, mulling over his words quietly.  He seemed genuine in his offer, and you were still a little freaked out from the show you’d been watching.  Plus, getting some one on one time with your hot neighbor?  Who were you to turn that down?  But, at the same time, you didn’t want to look silly in front of him.  You didn’t want him to think you were some child, incapable of being alone in the dark for more than five minutes.  Your silence as you thought over his offer seemed to signal something negative to Jason, who quickly added, “If you’re fine on your own then that’s totally cool, don’t worry about it, I was just offering.  Plus, there’s not much else for me to do anyway with the power out.”  Jason did his best to make himself sound nonchalant with his offer, but truthfully, your prolonged silence was beginning to make him feel a little foolish.

You shook your head and replied, “No no, some company would actually be kind of nice, if you don’t mind.”

Jason let out a sigh of relief you didn’t pick up on, “Okay, for sure, do you…”  he drifted off midsentence and you quickly picked up the slack for him.

“You can come over to mine, I’ve already got all my spare lights set up.”

“Sure.”

Jason let you let him into the apartment, and now that you were in a space with actual light sources, you could get a better look at him.  He stood next to you and let his eyes wander around your dimly lit apartment.  He’d never seen your place before, the two of you usually had your conversations in the hall or the lobby of your building, a handful of times you saw each other out and about in the city, but he’d never once crossed the threshold of your apartment.  Jason was clad in a pair of grey plaid pajama pants and a loose fitting black t-shirt that still somehow highlighted the slopes of his muscles.  His hair was slightly disheveled. You were guessing, based on his relaxed appearance, he must’ve been lazing about on the couch or something before the power went out.  All this to say, he was looking unbelievably delicious, standing in his pajamas in the flickering candle light of your living room.  Jason suddenly began walking around and you were brought back down to earth from your dreams of kissing that giant man breathless.

“Nice place,”  he said simply but genuinely.

“Thanks, you should see it when there’s actually light to see it with,”  you joked.

“Maybe I should,”  Jason muttered so quietly you didn’t think he even realized he’d said it, but he did, and your heart picked up its pace in response.

You watched him walk around some more.  You honestly were unsure of what to do or how to proceed and you were beginning to feel a little awkward.  “Would you like a tour?”

“Sure.”

You then led Jason around your apartment like an award winning tour guide.  The house tour was short, given the size of the space, but Jason was an engrossed patron and made many comments on your choice of decor, most were complimentary but some were teasing.  When your tour had concluded, the two of you ended up on the couch, you sat facing each other full on with less space between you than was probably customary for acquaintances.  

“I’d give you a five star review for that excellent tour,”  Jason said expertly.

You smiled, “Thank you thank you,”  you replied courteously, “So… what do you want to do?”

“Uh, aren’t you the host?  Doesn’t that mean you have to entertain me?”  Jason pointed out with a raised eyebrow and smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yeah, but you’re here to keep me from spiraling about a serial killer breaking into my apartment and murdering me,”  You argued, mirroring his expression.

“How do you know I’m not secretly a serial killer planning to do exactly that, now that you’ve invited me into your home?”

“Jason, I swear to God, I will throw you from the window and watch you splatter on the sidewalk.”

“Good luck lifting me up off the ground, darlin’,”  Jason quipped and you had to ignore the way your stomach went mad with butterflies at the pet name.

“How about 20 questions?”  You blurted out, shocking both of you.

“What?”  Jason flubbed.

You stood firm in your suggestion, not wanting to back down and look weak, “20 questions, it’s something to do that doesn’t take power.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed but he relented, “Fine, but I get to go first.”

“Sure, since you’re gonna be so demanding about it,”  You teased.

“Okay, first question; what’s your favorite color,”  Jason asked lightly, and thus the game began.

Time passed very quickly with this strategy of yours.  Each question gave the two of you a chance to deep-dive into a more meaningful conversation where you both took turns either raving in agreement about some topic or getting into a good-natured argument about the other’s surely wrong opinion.

“What do you mean you haven’t read Frankenstein?!”  You exclaimed incredulously.

“I just haven’t,”  Jason huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, unintentionally flexing his pectorals (boobs).

“But you’ve read so many of the other classics, and that one is genuinely one of the greatest!”

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Well you gotta, it’s truly a crime that you haven’t read it yet.”

“Didn’t realize you were so passionate about the early works of science fiction,”  Jason teased.

“You’re just trying to distract me from the fact you’ve read the complete works of Charles Dickens but not Mary Shelley.  You know what,”  you abruptly got up and Jason watched you cautiously, trying to infer your next move.  You walked over to the bookshelf by your tv and quickly found what you were looking for.  You sat back down and didn’t notice the way Jason inched just the slightest bit closer to you this time.  You held out the book to him and emphatically said, “Here, this is my copy, you can borrow it.”

Jason blinked in shock, his hand hovered hesitantly over your copy of Frankenstein, “You serious?”

“Yes,”  your voice was earnest and there was something about the tone and the gesture that made Jason’s heart squeeze almost uncomfortably in his chest, “I don’t mind.  You clearly like your books and I can tell you take good care of them, so I’m not worried about lending it to you.  Plus, I need you to read it, like, asap.  I feel like you’ll really like it.”

Jason paused thoughtfully but then his hand slowly moved to take the book with more care than you thought possible from a man of his size.  The book was slightly worn but it was clearly well loved; in his hands, it felt like a relic.  Jason was suddenly scared it was made of glass and he might drop it and break it like a fool.  “I…”  he didn’t understand why he was suddenly having so much trouble finding his words, “I will read it, and I’ll take good care of it.  Thank you.”

“No problem,”  you replied with satisfaction.  A comfortable silence then settled over the two of you, Jason staring intensely at the book and you gazing softly at him.  There was no pressure to say anything or start a new conversation and you were happy with that.

The peace was then shattered when a loud crashing noise was made outside your window, you jumped and cursed, and instantly, all your anxiety from before came rushing back.  Jason looked up and immediately clocked your rising fear.  Without thinking, his hand darted out and rested on your shoulder.  His hand was large, but not heavy against you, applying the lightest pressure, just enough to bring your attention back to the moment.

“Hey, it was nothing, just a cat probably,”  Jason tried to reassure you in a calm voice.

“Yeah, and how many slasher movies start with that line again?”

Jason huffed with amusement but slowly got up from the couch.  Your eyes desperately followed his figure as he stepped over to the window to look out and try to find the cause of the noise.

“Yeah, looks like Stinker knocked over some old boxes again,”  Jason declared, still scanning the view outside.  You breathed a sigh of relief.  Stinker is the beloved neighborhood stray that is always bumping into things like trash cans and boxes outside of the building.  He’s also known for comedic timing, such as knocking over boxes when you’re trying to stave off a fear of being brutally murdered in your apartment.

“Jesus, that cat,”  you grumbled in exasperation.

“Need me to protect you from a feline, now?”  Jason teased, leaning on his hand which rested on the arm of your couch.

Instead of dignifying that with a response, you threw a pillow at him.  He caught it easily and threw it back at you, but with considerably less force.  Jason decided to rejoin you on the couch, and this time, his knee was brushing yours when he’d settled in, but neither of you made any move away from the other.

“You watch a lot of true crime?”  Jason suddenly asked.

You shrugged, “When I’m bored.”

“What were you watching before the power went out?”

“...BuzzFeed Unsolved,”  you muttered.

Jason’s eyes widened and his lips twitched up into a delightfully surprised smirk, “Really?”

“Really,”  you rolled your eyes at his tone.  “Hey, don’t look at me like that, it’ll freak anyone out after several hours.”

“Of course of course, I’m not judgin’,”  he said in a tone that told you he was definitely amused by all of this.

“Fuck you,”  you hit him over the head with another pillow.  He laughed and it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.  

“Oh,”  Jason suddenly started as if he’d just remembered something he’d been meaning to tell you, “Did y’know that Mrs. Warwick is moving?”

“She is?”  Your voice carried a tone of betrayal.  Mrs.  Warwick was one of your other neighbors, a very sweet old lady who you had tea with on Saturdays periodically.  She was beloved by the whole building.

“Yeah, told me a couple days ago,”  Jason confirmed.

“That sucks,”  you spoke dejectedly.

Jason frowned at your shift in mood and quickly worked to correct it, “Don’t worry, she said she’s gonna give everyone her new address so people can drop in when they want.”

You perked up at this, “Oh, that’ll be nice,”  Jason nodded in agreement, “Do you know why she’s moving?”

“Said somethin’ about her daughter having her first kid and she wants to be close to her grandbabies,”  Jason explained for you.

“Aw that’s sweet, I’m so happy for her.  I’m surprised it was her daughter who was the first kid to give her grandkids though, hasn’t her eldest been married for, like, seven years?”

“Yeah that’s what I was thinking!”  Jason’s voice grew excited as the two of you broached a gossipable topic.  This commenced an hour’s worth of dissecting the possible family drama of Mrs. Warwick, during which, the two of you somehow continued getting closer and closer together without either really noticing.  At some point, your knee had been pushed and now it rested atop his leg, and Jason’s arm lay extended on the back of the couch, his hand dangerously close to caressing your shoulder.

The two of you were in the middle of eagerly creating a soap opera out of your neighbor’s life when the lights suddenly flickered on.  You both froze as everything was suddenly illuminated to an almost offensive degree after having been shrouded in darkness for so long.  Now, with all the lights on, neither of you could ignore the proximity you two were positioned in, the lack of space between your two bodies.  It wasn’t like you were pressed up against each other or anything, but you were close, close enough to feel the heat coming off of Jason’s body and catch the way his breath hitched when he observed how close the two of you were sitting.  It was agonizingly silent.  Neither of you seemed to want to move and break the fragile air that had fallen over you but you were both also struggling with the knowledge that this wasn’t exactly a common position for two neighbors to be sat in.

“Well,”  Jason broke the stillness but his voice remained hushed and almost wary, “looks like problem’s solved.”  If you didn’t know any better, you’d say there was a twinge of sadness in his voice.

“Looks like it,”  you muttered, a little disappointed that the lights had come back on, since that meant your time with Jason was at an inevitable end.  You shifted just barely, but Jason instantly noticed the couple of extra inches of distance that was added between you.  He decided not to comment on how cold he now felt and you decided not to make it obvious you were upset the power had come back.

Silence fell over the two of you and it was painfully obvious that neither of you wanted the other to leave but you both also knew that it was unavoidable.  You, instead, stalled by looking at him.  Now, with actual lights to look at him under, you could see the more intricate details of his person.  The silhouette of his hefty arms, the swirling shades of blue and green in his stern eyes, the draw of his pink lips, the thin scar that ran from the edge of his eyebrow down to the corner of his lips, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the tiny scars on his large hands.  God, everything about him looked like it’d been chiseled by Michaelangelo.  To be fair, you weren’t being a creep, Jason was doing the exact same thing with you.  I mean, when else did he get such a good opportunity to memorize every line and curve of your features?  Thus far, he’s had to survive off of the brief interactions you have in the halls, he’s not going to end this moment early like a fool.

Finally though, Jason slowly (almost painfully) got up and you followed, “Guess you don’t need someone to keep the monsters at bay now,”  he joked, but your smile was a little sad.

The two of you walked almost comically slow to the door.  When Jason stepped over the threshold and back into the hallway, it felt like something special had just ended and it made him want to instantly jump back into the bliss of your apartment.  You chewed on your lip to avoid saying something stupid.

“Thanks for coming over, I know you probably had better things to do,”  you said, hoping it was casual enough.

Jason shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, I had fun,”  he paused, “Let me know if you ever need company after another BuzzFeed Unsolved binge.”

This time, your smile wasn’t sad and Jason’s heart did a weird little flippy thing at the sight, “I will,”  you promised.  Jason only nodded before turning around and walking over to his apartment.  Just before he walked in, he turned his head to find you still looking at him from your doorway, he waved with a small smile and you returned the gesture before he finally walked inside.  

When he was finally out of view, you sighed and reentered your apartment.  Now that he was gone, the space felt colder, emptier; it made you shiver.  When you returned to the couch and turned your tv back on, it was with less enthusiasm than you’d had before.  Everything suddenly felt much more dim, which is ironic considering how your apartment is now fully illuminated, unlike how it was just a few minutes ago.  But then you replayed Jason’s parting offer in your mind, a bridge to excuse another meeting, and you slowly smiled again.  Yes, you would have him over again to keep you company after another true-crime binge.  What a brilliant plan.  It was the perfect excuse.  What a genius.  This would not be the last time you had Jason Todd over in your apartment, you were sure of that.

[er-osion]

ok gang i’m having trouble deciding what fic to post next, so ya’ll are gonna help me decide

which fic should i post next?

tim drake x reader fluff

jason todd x reader fluff

jason todd x reader hurt/comfort

Voting ended onAug 27, 2025

[er-osion]

I Hope I Dye

pairing:  Dick Grayson x gn!Reader

summary:  Reader dyes their hair but it comes out the wrong color, their trusty boyfriend is there to comfort them

word count:  1.0k

warnings:  none, fluff

author's note: this is lowkey a crack fic idea that i got after i dyed my own hair and it came out way darker than i thought it would. honestly, i don't hate it now, but i was definitely pissed when it first came out. not super proud of this fic but it was smth silly i just felt like throwing out there

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“So, how’d it come out, snookums?”  Dick called out from down the hall.

You didn’t respond, frozen in your spot in front of the mirror in a staredown with yourself.  A scowl had been carved into your face and your fingers were twitching at your side with the suppressed urge to rip your hair from your head.

You didn’t hear him coming, you never did, but suddenly, your boyfriend was leaning against the bathroom doorway with a delighted smile on his face, “Aw, I love it!  That’s a great color on you.”

You barked out a mirthless laugh and raked a furious hand through your ruined hair.  Dick made an expression that made it clear he was taken aback by your reaction.  His eyes narrowed and his brow quirked in inquisitive confusion, but the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed his inner amusement, “What’s wrong, lovebug?”

Suddenly overcome with emotion, your voice and body exuding a mix of anger, disappointment, vexation, and dejection, you threw your arms up in the air and exclaimed, “It’s the wrong fucking color!”

“Whaddya mean?  You used the box we bought a couple of days ago, right?” He asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, I did, and the box lied to me,”  You huffed, still enraged as you stared offensively at your reflection.

“Hate to break it to ya, sugar, but boxes can’t lie, they’re inanimate.”

“Ha. Hilarious, Richard, I’m crying from laughter,”  You replied with a brutal deadpan that only broadened your boyfriend’s funny grin.

“I still don’t see what’s wrong though,”  Dick confessed, as he swapped his gaze between you and your reflection in the mirror before settling back on your person.

“Look at me!”  You started again, “This is, like, five shades darker than what the pictures on the box show.  It’s a completely different color!”  Your frustration was growing again, you felt cheated out of the hair you wanted.  That goddamn box with its inaccurate name and pictures had tricked you and now you looked just as much the fool it had proved you to be.

As if he could read your mind and its dramatic tendencies when frustrated, a chuckle fell from Dick’s lips, which drew a pointed scowl from your countenance.  Dick ambled over to you and lazily wrapped his arms around your middle and planted a long kiss to the top of your head, “Maybe… maybe the box did lie to you,”  he started, with a silly but genuine tone, “but I still think you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever set eyes on, and no box dye that’s five shades darker than it should be is changing that,”  he concluded with another prolonged kiss to your cheek.

You rolled your eyes to try and maintain your crossness, but the way he held you, and spoke to you, and kissed you made it incredibly hard to stay mad.  “You’re just saying that so you don’t have to hear me gripe about it all day,”  you grumbled in an effort to give yourself a good reason to stay upset.

Dick shook his head with a smile, “Nope,”  he said, happily popping the ‘p’, “I’d listen to you gripe about anything all day ‘cause I like hearing you talk.  I’m gravely serious about how attractive I find you, and that severity will not be swayed by an unfortunate hair color mishap,”  your boyfriend concluded matter-of-factly.

“I’m still pissed,”  You complained, but with less fervor than before, your eyes flicking over your form in the mirror and the way it looked being so lovingly held by your boyfriend.

“I’d be surprised if you weren’t,”  Dick quipped smugly.  You elbowed him in the ribs.

“I just can’t believe how different it looks from the picture.”

“Maybe you should leave a scathing review online, that’ll show ‘em.”

“Are you trying to call me a Karen right now?”  You asked pointedly with a raised eyebrow.

Dick lips twisted into a smirk as his arms tightened around you, “Noooo,”  sarcasm dripped from his honey voice, “Being grumpy and feeling wronged by a botched hairdo, nooo, how could that make you a Karen?”  You glared at him through the mirror and stepped on his toes in retaliation.

“Let’s go back to you calling me cute instead of a bitch.”

“Mmm, easy,”  Dick attacked your face with kisses, “You’re the cutest, prettiest, most beautiful, gorgeous, painted by Michaelangelo, person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.  Even if you did get bitchy, you’re just too wonderful for anyone to care, and I’m the luckiest guy ever, ‘cause I get to fall in love with you in every hair color you deem worthy of your head,”  Dick concluded with ardor and shining blue eyes.

You felt your face heating up at the onslaught of compliments and feigned annoyance to cover up how flustered he’d made you, “Okay Shakespeare, take it to a publisher.”

“If I made that into a play, I could put you in charge of the hair and wig department!”  Dick conjured up brilliantly.  His brilliance earned him another elbow to the side. 

“I’m still upset about this,”  You muttered, hand fussing with a strand of hair.

Dick sighed dramatically, “Well, if you’re still upset, then I guess the only thing we can do is order your favorite take-out and cuddle on the couch while watching whatever you want to watch on tv.”

You matched his dramatism, “I suppose you’re right, that might be the only thing possible of lifting my spirits.”

Dick nodded solemnly and then abruptly scooped you up in his arms, you yelped in surprise and hit his chest being demanded to put down, but Dick ignored you and carried you to the couch.

Bonus:

You were styling your hair, Dick watching you contentedly from the other side of the room, when you broke the silence, “I think this color’s kinda grown on me,”  you confessed absentmindedly.

“I told you so!”  Dick almost shouted in excitement, “God, aren’t I a fortune teller, or what?”

“I’m taking that back just to spite your ego,”  You corrected with a glance at him behind you.

“That’s not a very good practice of self love,”  he argued.

“Wouldn’t the effectiveness of self love have to be determined by the individual, since it is, inherently, for themself?”

“Don’t get philosophical with me, we’re talking about your hair right now.”

“Hair that I have decided I like now.”

“Something I told you would happen!”

“Don’t make this about you, Richard.”

“You’re so lucky I love you so much.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

[er-osion]

finally got around to changing my theme, not like i’ve been meaning to do this for a year or anything

to celebrate my accomplishment of smth i’ve procrastinated for a criminally long time, here are some of my favorite emojis just ‘cause:

🪻🪷✨🌒🌚🫧📖🧫🩻📜🩶🫀🐌🌊♠️🃏⚜️

[er-osion]

Green Thumb 

pairing:  Jason Todd x gn!plantlover!Reader

summary:  Reader discovers Jason’s new collection of plants he got because they reminded him of plant-loving reader

word count:  1.8k

warnings:  none, fluff

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Jason had been at the hardware store, buying supplies to fix the pipes of his old lady neighbor’s sink when he saw them.  To get to the plumbing area you had to go through the garden section, which is how his eyes ended up catching sight of two plants, a fern and a succulent.

Jason had never really been a plant guy.  He didn’t hate them, per se, but he definitely wasn’t a plant lover, not like you.  Jason remembers the first time he visited your apartment, he was almost taken aback by how many plants you had.  Some were herbs for you to cook with, some were natural air purifiers, and some were just pretty.  No matter the reason, Jason had never seen so many plants in a person’s home; he wanted to call you a psycho, but if you were already taking great care of all those unhelpful little sprouts then why discourage you from taking in one more?

Since dating you, Jason’s grown more fond of plants.  Not to the extent that he’d go out shopping for some, but he could definitely appreciate them more.  Now, when he went to someone’s house, he instinctively began judging them by their plant collection, or lack thereof.  

That’s why he wasn’t surprised when the lush fern and cute succulent first caught his eye in the garden section of the hardware store.  They were both nice plants, he noted that right off the bat.  He took a few seconds to look at them, then shook his head and took off in the direction he was supposed to be going.

The problem was, the whole time he was shopping for his pipes and tools, he couldn’t get the image of those plants out of his head.  There was something about them that scratched a specific itch in his brain.  He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he was already in the middle of doing it; on his way to checkout, he stopped by the garden section and plopped the two plants into his cart. As he was paying for everything, as if under a spell, his brain suddenly conjured up a reason as to why he’d been forced to buy the green little things.

They remind him of you.

Yes, that makes sense now.  There was something about these two plants that made him think of you; he could see your likeness in the lush green limbs of the plants, the beauty in life that you and the botanical wonders shared.  That’s how he ended up with two plants sitting on the bookshelf by the window in his otherwise barren apartment.

***

You had only been to your boyfriend’s apartment a handful of times.  Jason was usually the one to come over to your place; you had never even seen his place until he told you about Red Hood, and that was still relatively recent. And after you first saw his apartment, you could understand why guests may not be in the question for him.  His space lacked a certain homey warmth, any gentleness was offset by a visible menagerie of pointy and heavy weapons, and the small amount of furniture made it clear that the place was less about being a “home” and more about being a safe house.

But today, you’d gotten a text from Jason telling you he’d had a rough patrol last night, to which you offered to come over and visit (take care of/coddle) him.  He reluctantly said yes after much convincing and you immediately took off toward his apartment, not passing up the opportunity to spend time with and take care of your boyfriend.

Since buying the two plants a few weeks ago, Jason hasn’t given them much thought.  He waters them by scheduled need and finds himself staring at them in the moments when his yearning for you is extra strong, but other than that, they occupy no real space in his mind.  Which is why he never considered you might have a reaction to seeing them.

The minute you stepped into his apartment, you clocked the new additions to the decor.  Jason’s apartment was sparse, so the bright fern and plush succulent stood out like a sore thumb.  You cocked your head in curiosity, a smirk playing at your lips as you considered Jason’s possible new interest in plants.  You didn’t say anything at first, just wandered over to the couch where your boyfriend was laying, clearly put out.

“How are you doing, cutie?”  You ask sweetly, your voice a mix of concern and playfulness that made Jason’s heart stutter.

“Been better.”  He grumbled, eyes still closed as you sat on the edge of the cushion, pressing yourself against his side.

You hummed and brushed his hair out of his eyes, “You look like shit.”

He laughed, “You should see the other guys.”

You roll your eyes and run your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp occasionally.  Jason makes a humming noise that sounds a little too close to a purr.

“So… you went to the plant store.”

Jason’s eyes shot open, and his blue-green irises locked on yours.  You could see a brief flash of panic overtake his face and you had to bite back a smirk at having clearly caught him redhanded in something.

“Hardware store,”  He corrected.

“Right, well, wherever you went, you bought some plants,” you narrowed your eyes in suspicion, “I didn’t peg you for a plant guy, Mr. ‘why would I buy something else to take care of when I’m already enough of a handful myself.”

“Tch,”  Jason averted eye contact, “you’re always talkin’ ‘bout how I need to spruce up the place.”

“Well, to see you taking someone else’s advice is a shock in and of itself.”

Jason made a face at you and you smiled brightly, always taking pleasure in poking fun at him.  You got up from your spot by his side, much to Jason’s displeasure, to get a closer look at his new plants.  Jason watched you vigilantly from the couch, anxiety growing a little with every passing minute you spent silently observing the plants.  Were you able to guess why he got them?  Could you tell that he succumbed to something as cheesy as buying something just because it shared a fraction of your beauty?

“What?  Got notes?”  He joked, but you picked up on the caution in his voice.

“No, I really like them,” you said honestly, “They’re cute.”

Jason let out an imperceptible sigh of relief.

“Have you named them?”

Jason blinked and couldn’t suppress the tiny smile that tugged at his lips, “Of course I have, I’m no heathen,” he knew, because of you, that naming your plants was a must, “the fern is Elizabeth and the succulent is Darcy.”

You turned, your full attention back on Jason, which brought him great satisfaction, “Oh my God, of course,” you rolled your eyes with a chuckle, “I’m not even surprised.”

“I’m a man of class,”  He said simply.  You gave him a knowing look and pivoted once again to look at the plants some more.  Jason watched with less anxiety this time, now he could enjoy the vision of your relaxed, happy figure in his apartment, looking wistfully at the plants he’d picked out.  They say that plants were made for sunlight, but with the way the light from his window was casting you in a soft halo, Jason was sure the only one feeding off of the sun was you.

“What’re you smilin’ for?”  Jason asked.

“Nothing, just,” you paused and turned back to face him with a satisfied smile that made Jason’s heart do flips inside his ribcage, “seeing your new plants is making me want to go out and buy some more.”

Jason gauffed, “More?  Darlin’, you’ve almost got enough plants in your home to one up Poison Ivy.”

“That means there’s still room for more,”  You teased, to which Jason shook his head lovingly.

You spent the next hour fusing about his apartment.  Making lunch for the two of you, tidying up a bit, helping Jason redress his wounds, and whatnot.  The apartment was filled with a calm sort of domestic energy; Jason resting on the couch as you did what you could to make his life easier for him while he was nursing his injuries.  Even though the two of you were technically doing your own things, the space was most definitely shared.  Somehow, more life than before had been breathed into the room, and you liked to think it was thanks to the vitality of Jason’s new plants.  

Later in the day, Jason was resting his head in your lap as the two of you watched Pride & Prejudice as the sun began to set.

“Hey, do you think you’d want to go shopping for some more plants later?”  You posed quietly, almost unsurely over the soft noise of movie dialogue.

Jason turned his head away from the tv to look up at you, “Is that something you want to do?”  His voice was a different type of gentle, one you didn’t hear often but one that made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

“Yeah, if you want to, of course,” you averted eye contact, suddenly a little self-conscious, “I just thought it might be something fun for us to do, now that you don’t think plants are so bad.”

Jason considered you for a moment, his eyes running all over your face as he took in every slope and curve of your features.  Nothing had ever seemed so lovely to him.

“I’d be down for that.  But you’ll have to help me pick them out this time, I’m still a novice at this plant-parent thing,” Jason finally answered.

Your face lit up with excitement as your eyes snapped back down to him with purpose.  Jason wanted to puff his chest out with pride at having pulled such an expression from you, “Well, good thing you have me then, I happen to be an expert,”  You remarked enthusiastically, already picturing a date where you could wander the isles of a plant store, hand in hand with your boyfriend and ramble about the different benefits, drawbacks, and needs of the different plants you find.

“Good thing I have you, indeed.”  Jason uttered, and you had a feeling he wasn’t talking in terms of your helpfulness in picking out new flora anymore.

It’s safe to say that, over the next few months, Jason’s drab apartment began to see more and more pops of color as you and Jason began picking out some plants for him to put around the place.  Jason didn’t understand why he didn’t do this sooner.  Every time he walked past one of those plants, he thought of you, and with each new addition, it felt like you were further lighting up his space; growing all over every inch of his life like ivy on an abandoned house.  And the vibrant look in your eyes, the animation that took over your face whenever the two of you went plant shopping was something that Jason relished beyond measure.  At this point, he’s already organizing your anniversary to be spent at the botanical gardens.

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as a plant girlie, I dream of plant shopping dates and naming plant children with my partner. personally, i feel like jason would be drawn to either delicate succulents like the string of pearls plant, or big leaf plants like the fiddle leaf fig, but comment what other plants you think jason might enjoy 😜

[er-osion]

‘A’ For Effort

pairing:  Robin!Tim Drake x Tutor!classmate!gn!Reader

summary:  Tim is crushing hard on one of the few people at his school that can compete with him in intellect, but because of his slipping grades, he’s forced to enroll your services as a tutor; good thing he doesn’t have to excel at science to know the two of you have chemistry

word count:  5.6k

warnings:  none, fluff

author's note: i've never written for tim before but love the concept of down-bad tim so this was a bit of a trial, so if there are any die-hard tim fans out there that are mad because i might have mischaracterized him, then please accept my sincere apologies.

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

There was not a doubt in the world that Timothy Drake was about as smart as it gets.  Anyone who’s ever had the (dis)pleasure of interacting with him can attest to his scarily sharp intellect.  However, you wouldn’t know any of this by looking at his grades.

Unexcused absences, missing work, flunked exams, naps during class; he’s pretty much the poster child for “bad student”.  It’s not that Tim dislikes school, it’s actually the opposite, but his work as Robin often forces everything else to take a backseat.  So, his inattention to his civilian duties begin to make it look like he’s neglecting his education.

And after one too many awkward parent-teacher conferences, Bruce decided they needed to do something to make it look like Tim was trying in school and his guardian wasn’t just letting him flub his education.

That’s how you ended up here, standing next to Tim as your assistant principal explained you’d been selected to tutor Tim to help him get his grades up so he wasn’t at risk of having to repeat a year. 

Now, see, Tim knew this was coming.  It’d been in the works for weeks and had been a poignant topic of debate between himself and Bruce for even longer.  While your assistant principal went over the expectations for you as his tutor, Tim battled to remain still and not make his impatience to get out of here obvious.  Tim understood why he was having to go through with this; keep up appearances blah blah blah, he was just a little annoyed because now he had to somehow carve out more time for his civilian life, as if there was any time for that to begin with.

But don’t mistake his annoyance with the frivolity of the situation with annoyance toward you.  No no no.  The fact that you were his tutor was the only saving grace of this whole situation.  Tim remembers when you first met and being instantly captivated by your intelligence and willingness to help others; it’s those qualities especially that made you your teacher’s favorite peer tutor.  The two of you had done several class projects together and gone to a few of the same study groups, all of which gave Tim the opportunity to get to know you better and better, something he found even more exhilarating than being Robin.  Tim didn’t have to know you for very long before his palms started getting sweaty whenever you came near, and his heart began to beat way too rapidly in his chest, and his thoughts began to drift toward you more and more whenever he had the chance to think of something other than an open case.  

So yeah, to say he was relieved you were his tutor of all people was an understatement, he was stoked.  

Once the assistant principal was done lecturing, she sent you two out of her office and you and Tim began to stroll out of the school.

“You can come over to the Manor for this, by the way, the very least I could do to repay your faithful service is by providing snacks,”  Tim spoke, trying to maintain a confidence he did not feel in your presence.

“Sounds good.  Is there a day of the week that works best for you?”  You asked, glancing at the boy by your side before reverting your gaze to the cement beneath your feet.  Damn Timothy Drake and his subliminal pretty boy looks.

Tim hummed thoughtfully, there was never a day that “worked best” for him, but he had to come up with something, “Wednesday and Thursdays are usually when my schedule’s the most open.”

“Perfect, how about both days?”

“Sure!”  Tim coughed to cover up the way his voice cracked excitedly at your proposal to meet up twice a week.  Score.

“Sorry you have to go through all of this, I know out of anyone in our class, you need a tutor the least,”  You uttered with a small, understanding smile.  That’s another thing Tim adored about you.  You weren’t fooled by his shitty school performance like most of his classmates were.  You’d spoken with the boy enough times to recognize tell-tale signs of high intellect.  The first time he’d teasingly called you “genius” you’d immediately quipped back, ‘it takes one to know one’ and weirdly, Tim had rarely felt so flattered.  You didn’t treat him like some idiot or lost cause like most in your position would, you’d become good enough friends to see more than one side of Tim Drake.  You had always treated Tim like an equal, and maybe it was his deep down desire to be the equal of someone he admires, but he couldn’t help but be endeared to you for it.

The two of you chatted amicably until you had to part ways to go home, wishing each other a safe journey home (‘cause it’s Gotham) and a promise to see each other on Monday, next week.

***

“So, how was the meeting with the assistant principal?”  Bruce probed at dinner when Tim had returned to the manor.

“Fine, that woman sure likes to hear herself talk,”  Tim answered, taking a big bite of his steak.

“And your tutor?  Do you know them?  Do you like them?”

“Oh, yeah, we’ve been classmates for a while now; we’re friends, we’re cool, super cool.”  Tim’s nonchalance was failing him miserably today.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, the faintest expression of amusement crossing his face, “Well, who is it?  Do I know them?”  Tim reminded Bruce of your name exasperatedly, “Ah, yes yes, now I remember.  Well that’s good, a good choice by your assistant principle,”  Bruce nodded seriously.  Of course, he remembered you.  Tim didn’t often talk about his social life at school, so when a name is mentioned, it’s instantly cataloged in Bruce’s brain; and your name had been dropped on several occasions. 

“We’re going to be doing the study sessions on Wednesdays and Thursdays at the manor, thought I’d let you know,”  Tim provided absentmindedly.

“Thanks for the warning,”  Bruce muttered, a drop of sarcasm leaking into his voice, “Alfred can prepare one of the studies on the first floor so there’s less of a chance for us to cross paths.”  Tim made a noise of agreeance/approval with his mouth full of green beans.

***

The following week, Tim drove the two of you from school to Wayne Manor, Wednesday afternoon.  You didn’t know whether it was nerves over going to such a distinguished house, having to somehow tutor a guy who’s already at your level, or simply being in a car alone with Tim, but whatever it was, you were antsy on the drive from your school to Tim’s house.  To be fair, Tiim wasn’t doing much better than you in the nerves department– worse, even.  His clammy hands were striking again and Tim was having to try extra hard not to lose the grip on his steering wheel.

The two of you made easy conversation on the way to the manor, talking about the hottest gossip circling your class.  Another thing that made you thankful for your, frankly, unusual friendship with Tim Drake was how easy everything between you was.  There was never an awkward silence, never a misunderstood joke, never any strain in making conversation or sharing a space.  Being friends with Tim felt like the most natural thing in the world, always smoothly running like clear water over the rocks of a riverbed.

As you approached the front gates of Wayne Manor, however, your voice died off mid-sentence; your full attention had been stolen by the intimidating detailed architecture of the sprawling mansion before you.  Tim glanced over curiously and immediately noted the shock and awe that had overtaken your expression.  Sometimes, Tim had to remind himself that houses such as Bruce’s were special.  Having grown up wealthy, it was easy for him to dismiss things as ‘normal’ or ‘regular’ when, for most, it was something to elicit wonder; Tim had to take steps to remind himself of that every once in a while, to try and remain more in-touch with the larger public, as Bruce had instructed.

You were silent as you followed Tim up the driveway and through the imposing front door, trying to imprint every detail of the magnificent building to memory.  Tim naturally led you to the study that Alfred had made up for the two of you.  No one had come to greet the two of you yet, but Tim knew that Alfred was in the kitchen, preparing some snacks and that Bruce was still at a meeting at Wayne Enterprises.  

Once in the study, you took your time to look around at the luxuriously decorated space, Tim taking a seat patiently, waiting for you to give him the signal you were ready to begin your study session.

“You have a beautiful home, Tim.”  You almost whisper, clearly still taken aback by the pure wealth that seemed to ooze from the walls of this old building.

Tim chuckled, rubbing his neck, “Technically, it’s Bruce’s, I’m just staying here for a bit.”

“If I was even staying for a night, I’d be using that as bragging rights, probably until the day I died.”

“Well, most of our peers have never stepped foot on the Wayne property, so I guess, you technically could.”

You gave Tim a flash of a mischievous grin that sent Tim’s poor heart into a flurry, before taking your seat beside him and getting the table set up with all your school work.  “Okay, so let’s start with Calc first, get the worst part out of the way.”

“Bold strategy, captain, I like it.”

“Aye, now get your notebooks out, subordinate, it’s time for notes.”

It was easy to jump into a groove, and the tutoring session became less about Tim learning and more about the two of you just doing your homework together.  In no time at all you had moved on from Calculus to your History homework, the pair of you on an unstoppable roll as your minds communicated almost telepathically while analyzing the historical documents given to you for homework.  When Alfred came in to give you some snacks, he interrupted a passionate discussion about the possible biases of the sources’ authors and how best to interpret the truth from the purpose of the documents.  Alfred was undoubtedly the kindest and most well mannered man you’d ever met in your entire life, if a bit stiff in a classic English way.  He seemed quite pleased to meet you too, his curiosity over your character having been piqued after the discussion between Tim and Bruce last week at dinner.  He was pleased to have had an incredible first impression of you, and he instantly began to understand why Tim had taken such an obvious liking to you; the two of you had a sort of free flowing energy that would make even aluminum’s electrons jealous.

By the time your four hour tutoring session was over, you and Tim had long completed your homework and had moved on to debating the quality of various tv shows and movies.  Internally, you were reluctant to leave, having been enjoying your time with Tim outside of school, in a much more relaxed environment.  Tim was going to drive you home, but Alfred had intercepted the two of you on the way to the door and alerted Tim that Mr. Wayne had requested his presence upstairs.  Initially, Tim tried to protest, but Alfred gave him a look and Tim grumbled but excused himself politely and trudged upstairs.  Alfred drove you home in a car that probably cost more than your whole house.

“Is Tim working for Mr. Wayne?”  You’d asked Alfred on your way home, not being able to help your curiosity.

Alfred hummed consideringly, “To an effect, Master Tim is learning the tricks of the trade from Master Bruce, currently.”

“Oh, it’s nice that Tim is getting such training and insight from someone with experience in business like Mr. Wayne.  That’s a great opportunity.”  You were honestly a little relieved to hear that Tim clearly had connections that could land him a good job after school, since his current grades did not spell out a stable future if he didn’t have backup plans.  Unbeknownst to you, you and Alfred were thinking of two very different professions Bruce was currently instructing Tim in.  

When Alfred pulled up in front of your house, you thanked him ardently and wished him a good night, to which he returned the sentiment, the old man was very pleased with the interaction.

***

Like with everything else in your relationship, you and Tim fell into an easy rhythm the next couple of months, meeting up every Wednesday and Thursday to do homework and chat.  Honestly, Tim hasn’t been this successful of a student in years; this was the first time in ages he was turning in completed homework assignments back to back.  Your teachers were lavishing the two of you in praise; Tim, for his growth as a student, and you, for your remarkable teaching skills.  Truly, Tim couldn’t care less about his teachers’ perceived “growth”, but he felt a sense of pride and happiness in seeing your teachers shower you with compliments.  If anyone deserved to glow with the light of academic validation, it was you.

Your weekly study sessions became something of a lifeline for Tim, especially during weeks when his work as Robin got extra hairy.  That study became a safe space, one of the few places where Tim felt he could truly relax with someone he didn’t feel that constant pressure to perform for.  And God, nothing makes a man swoon more than his own angel, a knight in shining armor.  And, well, that’s what you’d become to Tim Drake, so obviously his minor crush became more of a head over heels infatuation.

You weren’t fairing much better in the “feelings development” department.  It honestly wasn’t fair.  How can anyone expect you not to fall for the grossly intelligent, magnetic, well-mannered, pretty boy?  Especially when he made falling for him easier than pushing a wheel down a hill.

By the third month of your tutoring arrangement, the two of you had begun this odd little dance, in which you flit and flutter over your growing feelings for one another.  Maybe you noticed the way he blushed a bit when your hand accidentally brushed his, but you elected to ignore it, because giving such observations any attention would give your imagination an excuse to run dangerously wild.  And maybe Tim clocked how you stared a bit longer than you should when you thought he wasn’t looking, but he chose not to think about it for very long, lest he suffer any heart palpitations before going on patrol with the world’s greatest detective.  Thus, for weeks now, you and Tim have been dancing around the obviously rising tension, almost daring the other to break the seal first.  But intelligence wasn’t the only trait you two shared; your stubbornness also went head to head, which made it all the more easy to let this battle of emotional endurance fall into a stalemate.

One Thursday evening, you and Tim were caught in fits of laughter, gossiping about some drama Tim had overheard while passing by the teacher’s lounge, when in walked Alfred.  You hadn’t known him for long enough, but Tim had gotten to know the older man well, and at the very least, his detective skills were sharp so he quickly noted the subdued gleam of a plot hiding behind the aged eyes.

“Terribly sorry for interrupting,” Alfred began but Tim didn’t fully believe the butler was very sorry, “but I was wondering, Master Tim, if you were planning on inviting your guest to stay for dinner, seeing as it’s gotten rather late.”

The two of you froze.  Your head snapped down to check the time on your phone while Tim’s eyes narrowed at the older man in a way that seemed to say ‘what are you playing at’.  Looking at the time on your phone, you realized that it was in fact an hour over your usual end time.  Which is weird, because usually, Alfred comes in at your typical end time to offer to give you a ride home, to which Tim always insists he can do it.  

Already on alert at this odd turn of events, you waited for Tim to make a decision, since Alfred had clearly left the next move up to him.

“Well, if you didn’t already have dinner plans, you’re welcome to stay for some food,”  Tim turned to you and offered.

You suppressed a chuckle at the way his kind of awkward delivery made it feel like a child being told to thank the cashier for their toy by their parents, “Didn’t have anything planned, and how could I pass up the opportunity to taste Mr. Alfred Pennyworth’s world famous dinner?”  You smiled graciously, eyes jumping from Tim to Aflred.  The latter seemed pleased by your acceptance of the invitation and the former seemed relieved.

“Why don’t you two put your things away and wash up while I set an extra place for our guest.”  And with that Alfred left the room.  You met Tim’s gaze after the older man had left and you both offered each other a slight smile before silently packing all your notes and homework away.

You hadn’t fully realized what “dinner at the Waynes’” meant until you and Tim entered the dining room, talking softly about a beloved character from a show you both liked, and your eyes landed on the imposing figure of Bruce Wayne sitting calmly at the head of the table.  Tim noticed instantly how you stiffened just slightly and he wanted so strongly to be able to run a hand up and down your back in a soothing way to try and reassure you there was nothing to fear about Bruce Wayne.  (At least not yet)

Bruce looked up as you and Tim neared the table, “Ah, I’m so glad you could join us.”  Bruce called as he stood up to shake your hand while Tim pulled out your chair for you.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you, Mr. Wayne, I’ve heard a lot about you,”  You said with humble enthusiasm.

A ghost of a smirk crossed Bruce’s face as he motioned for you to sit, “From the tabloids or Tim?”  He asked slyly.

“Is both a fine answer?”  You retorted playfully, confidence growing with Bruce’s casualness and Tim’s seat right next to you.  

Bruce let out a huff that sounded suspiciously like a concealed laugh, “Yes, I suppose that’s fair.  Also, ‘Bruce’ is fine.”

“Oh sure,”  You nodded, and silently thanked Alfred for his impeccable timing as he brought out the food without leaving any time for an awkward silence to grow.  Throughout dinner, polite conversation was kept afloat, with Bruce asking you standard questions about your future plans, hobbies, and likes and dislikes.  Tim was a bit quieter than usual, observing more the way you got along with his mentor.  In reality, he was a little on edge, fearful that one wrong word might send the whole evening lopsided and completely shatter your good opinion of him and turn you out of his life forever.  Plus, for some inexplicable reason, Tim really wanted you to mesh well with Bruce and Alfred.  At first, the meal had felt a tad bit awkward and forced, but rather quickly, the three of you found a steady rhythm and everything felt much more relaxed and less consequential.

You hadn’t expected Bruce Wayne to feel like such a down to earth kind of guy.  Sure, not every famous person is the same as what you see in the media, but it’s so easy to picture Bruce Wayne as this head-empty philanderer that you experienced a bit of whiplash when he was much more composed and quietly curious than you expected him to be.  You credited his journey of fatherhood for this complex character but also wanted to avoid any grand assumptions about his personality, you’d just met him, afterall.

After dessert, Tim was ready to drive you home when Bruce requested that Alfred take you so Tim could stay back and help him with a project for Wayne Enterprises.  Tim reluctantly agreed and you thanked Bruce for having you for dinner and wished Tim a good night.  As with the few other times that Alfred drove you home, you and the older man made an easy and friendly discussion that kept your good spirits up for the remainder of the night.

As soon as you were out the door, Bruce led Tim to the Cave.  The walk was done in silence and Tim could only guess what was going on in Bruce’s head.  The inability to guess at what Bruce might be thinking was only causing Tim’s anxiety to slowly bubble up.  Tim thought the dinner had gone really well; no awkward silences, no ruined moods, you seemed happy at the end of the night, and Bruce hadn’t begun lecturing him for anything yet so Tim had reason to believe everything had gone off without a hitch.

As the two were walking into the Batcave, Bruce finally spoke up, “So how long have the two of you been dating?”

Tim nearly jumped, “I– we’re, no, we’re not– I– we,”  it was painfully obvious how flustered Tim was, and Bruce was sporting an almost malicious smirk.

“Bat got your tongue?”  Bruce asked smugly.

“We’re just friends, Bruce.”  The words felt like poison dripping from Tim’s mouth.

“Right,”  His mentor seemed the least bit convinced and was clearly enjoying how ruffled this conversation was making the young boy, “So… when are you two going to stop calling them “study sessions”, and start calling them for what they are: dates?”

“Bruce,”  Tim half groaned, half cried.

“Just calling it as I see it, and how I see it is two kids exploring young love.”

“I’m begging you, stop talking or I will throw up.”

“Why haven’t you asked them out?”

“Bruce!”

“Still didn’t answer the question.”

“I,”  Tim went silent, truly thinking over Bruce’s question, “I don’t know,”  he admitted in a whisper.

Bruce’s eyebrows raised, genuinely a little surprised at Tim’s honest response and digression from embarrassment to dejection.  “You do realize that asking someone on a date isn’t nearly as scary as taking on Gotham’s finest rogues, right?”  Bruce cast a skeptic glance over to where Tim was standing and preparing himself for a night of patrol.

“I beg to differ,”  Tim muttered under his breath.

Bruce took a moment to truly observe the boy.  He could read his body language like a children’s book; he could tell Tim was anxious, flustered, and despondent, but also hopeful and even a bit eager.  “You won’t get anywhere if you don’t try,” Bruce pointed out.

“I’m also not risking anything if I don’t try,”  Bruce gave him a look that told him to explain, so Tim continued with a sigh, “What if I ask them out and they say no ‘cause they don’t feel the same?  That’s one friendship ruined, and a friendship I especially value.  I’ll be honest with you Bruce, I don’t feel inclined to lose any more friends in the near future; so even if that means losing out on something that could be, I’m not going to risk what I’ve got.”

Bruce was silent, mulling over Tim’s confession and felt a pang of sympathy.  The Bat definitely does not miss the chaos of teenage emotions and relationships.  “But do you really want to fall asleep at night regretting your inaction, imagining what could’ve been?”  

Tim’s movements slowed.

“Okay, enough about your failing love life, time for patrol.”

***

The following week, you were back at Tim’s (Bruce Wayne’s) house.  The study session was going off without a hitch, as usual, you were enjoying your time with Tim like you always did.  Randomly though, Tim asked if you were hungry or wanted something to drink, to which you said yes, so he fumbled up out of his chair and assured you that he’d be right back.  You nodded and busied yourself with trying to calm your racing heart while you waited for him to come back.  

Tim made his way to the kitchen, out of breath like he’d just run a marathon instead of simply sharing a space with you.  When he entered the kitchen, Alfred greeted him and patiently asked what Tim needed.

“Some snacks and drinks would be great, Alfred,”  Tim then proceeded to list off all the snacks he knew you liked and helped Alfred prepare your favorite drink.  As Tim was walking back to the study (slowly, as he was trying to delay the inevitable) Bruce crossed his path with a clever gleam in his eye.

“Piece of advice: if you look any more nervous, your game will be effectively nullified,”  Bruce stated.

“Gee, thanks for the observation,”  Tim replied dryly.

“Also, if you go into cardiac arrest while proposing the date, you won’t actually get to go on the date.”

“You should give up the cowl and start a ‘Dear Abby’ column.”

“Good luck, kid.”  And with that, Bruce turned on his heel and retreated back to his office, sending him a wave with his back turned that was probably meant to be encouraging but looked more like an omen of death to Tim, in the moment.

Taking a breath, Tim reentered the room and set out the snacks and drinks he’d brought back with him.  You thanked him sweetly and the butterflies in Tim’s stomach swarmed.  You first took a sip of the drink he’d brought you, immediately recognizing it as one of your favorites, and your eyes widened in shock and delight as the heavenly flavor hit your tongue.  “Tim, did you make this?”  You asked fervently.

“Uh yeah, why?  Is it bad?  I can get you something else if you want.”  Tim rattled off.

You shook your head vigorously while taking another sip, “No!  Tim, it’s delicious.  I mean, you nailed it, it’s perfect.”

“Oh,”  Tim turned his head and pretended to fix some invisible problem with the snack tray to try to hide the pink dusting his cheeks, “well, thanks.  It really wasn’t hard, considering how you never shut up about that drink.”  He was trying so hard to maintain his nonchalance.  You lightly punched him in the arm in faux annoyance.

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you as you delvelled into the food.  The silence was a double edged sword though, as it gave you space to think of your ever growing fondness for the boy beside you, fondness that was not custom between friends.

Oh God, how you’d come to hate that word recently.  Friends, friends, friends.  That was always your response whenever someone asked what the two of you were.  It had begun to warp and knot in your throat every time you had to pull it out.  Sometimes, sometimes, you thought maybe he might feel an inkling of what you feel, but then you had to snap yourself out of that illusion.  Even though the two of you ought to be equally matched, there was something about him that told you he wasn’t just on a different level, he was on a different planet, and that inexplicable distance always told you you didn’t stand a chance.

Caught up in your whirlwind of thoughts, you didn’t notice Tim staring intently (almost creepily) at you.  The past two hours, he’d been mentally rehearsing how he was going to ask you out.  The whole previous week he’d been doing his research on the most effective ways to ask a person out, making notes of the best and worst lines, tones of voice, postures, settings, etc to do it in.  But even with all that extensive planning, Tim felt out of his depth and uncomfortably uncertain.  Sure, maybe he picked up on a few of the tells that reassured him you might feel the same, but even those little clues didn’t help to instill confidence in the boy.  Truly, fighting Scarecrow was less scary than this.

“So, uh,”  Tim coughed when he felt his voice was about to crack.  Your focus was snapped from your thoughts and pinned to the blue-eyed boy beside you.  “I just wanted to say… thank you, for giving up so much of your time to help me with all of this,” Tim said.

Smooth, Drake, remind the person you’re about to ask out of your inadequacies, real smooth.

“Of course, Tim, it really isn’t any trouble,”  you paused, a little unsure about your next words but still felt like they were right for the moment, “I enjoy spending time with you.”

As if Tim wasn’t already having a hard time swallowing, you had to go and be genuinely happy to have him around.  You were going to kill him at this rate.  “Yeah, me too.”  Silence cloaked the two of you again, and while it wasn’t awkward, neither of you could maintain eye contact with the other for very long.

“Why don’t you tutor other people, as well?  You’re good enough at it, you could do some serious business,”  Tim asked, finding it hard to spit the words that he really wanted to say out.

You tilted your head in consideration before a coy smile grew on your lips, “Well, you, Timothy Drake, are already such a handful that you’re all I can deal with.”

“Wow, so I’m just a chore to you?”  Tim fired back with an amusedly raised eyebrow.

“Let me correct myself; you’re all I want to deal with.”  Your voice had been lightly playful but the words had still knocked the air out of Tim’s chest.

Okay, this is it.  This is the moment, Timmy.  Shoot your shot, it’s now or never.

With a big but discreet breath, Tim straightened, “You’re all I want to deal with too.”

You froze.  There was something about his tone, the shift in his energy that told you he wasn’t joking around anymore, and the seriousness of the statement left you feeling like you’d been dropped from a twenty story building.  Your eyebrows furrowed slightly and your head tilted, Tim took your silence as a reason to continue.

“Look, I really like hanging out with you, like really.  Honestly, you’ve made Wednesdays and Thursdays my favorite days of the week, which truly is no small feat.  But I’ve recently realized that I don’t want these “tutoring sessions” to be the only reason we hang out; I want to be able to find reasons to spend time with you without needing school as an excuse.  I don’t want to be confined to this room for a couple of hours every week with you and have that be it, it’s just not enough any more.”

You were struggling to stay calm and collected after this monologue.  You were thinking you could see where this was going but didn’t want to get your hopes up, so you wanted him to flat out say what you thought he was going to say, “Yeah?  Well what would you want to do if we were hanging out outside of our tutoring sessions?”  You asked slowly.

“Anything, the movies, the park, a restaurant, a museum, the mall, anything you can think of, as long as you’re there, would be a sufficiently enjoyable time for me.”  Tim’s heart felt like it was in his throat and for one of the first times in his life, he was struggling to read your reaction to tell what you were making of his “confession”.

“Hmmm,” you hummed in theatrical pondering, “sounds, to me, like you’re asking me out on a date.”  You took a shot, and were hoping, for all that you were worth, that it’d land.

“Yes!”  Tim nearly jumped in his seat, “I mean, yes, that’s what I’m trying to do.”  You raised an expectant eyebrow, clearly wanting to make him work for it.  Maybe you derived some sick pleasure from seeing him fluster himself or maybe you just liked hearing him admit he wanted you, either way, Tim was willing to give you whatever you asked for.  “I’d like to take you out, on a date, if you’re willing and able.”

The smile that broke out on your face was one that made your cheeks hurt and one Tim wished he could snap a photo of just to stare at whenever he was feeling down.  “I am both willing and able to go on a date with you, Tim.”

Tim went wide eyed, his blue eyes shining like the ocean under sunlight, “Oh!  Cool– cool, very cool,”  he cleared his throat, “Would, say, Friday this week work for you?”

“In fact, it would.  Where are you thinking of going?”

“The movies?  You were talking about that one that came out last week that you wanted to see, we could see that if you’re still up for it,”  Tim offered, his confidence slowly growing as he was realizing you did in fact want to go on a date with him.

“Sounds great.”

“Awesome, awesome.”

From there, the rest of the study session was spent with irrepressible grins, some flustered bumbling around each other, and lots of glowing eye contact that had to be broken very quickly.  When Tim came back to the manor that evening after taking you home, neither Bruce nor Alfred had to ask if his plan to ask you out had gone successfully, the dopey grin that wasn’t washing off of his face was answer enough.  And then, a few weeks later when you came back to the manor for dinner and Tim announced the two of you were officially dating, Bruce had to stop himself from asking what took so long.

[er-osion]

Tim Drake Masterlist

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✯ ‘A’ For Effort

✯ Extra! Extra! Tim Drake Spotted With Dazzling Date at WE Gala

✯ Paparazzi