Quix

🍁Any Pronouns🍁 🍁MultiFandom(help me)🍁 🍁I have VERY unreliable motivation🍁 🍁18🍁

[saltyjoy]

Against All Odds

Tim Drake x Female Online Friend Reader

: ̗̀➛ Summary: The chances of befriending a Wayne online are low, but never zero. You honestly thought somebody was trying to catfish you, you don't just believe anybody who tells you that they're Tim Drake online. When you actually meet him, you realize that somehow you beat that impossibly low statistic and actually befriended Tim Drake. However, there is something strange going on with the Wayne family. You weren’t sure what it was. Until Red Robin saved you.

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 14.5k

Warnings/Tags: Online friends to friends to lovers, texting, LOTS of texting, they're literally online friends idk what you'd expect, Tim does photography as a hobby, reader is a uni student, reader and Tim deserve each other <3, secret identity reveal, very fluffy fic

: ̗̀➛ A/N: First Tim Drake fic! Hope you guys enjoy :)! Thank you @r-4-y-v-3-n for this request! This prompt was a lot of fun <3! I hope I delivered :D!

Masterlist

“Yes, I'll have the files emailed as soon as possible.” You place your phone onto your desk, pulling up your drive on your laptop. The moment you place your phone down, it buzzes. The vibration echoes loudly on your wooden table.

“Thank you,” your boss responds on speaker. “Could you have them sent to IT as well?” He asks, and you hear some rustling on his side of the call.

You nod, forgetting that he can't see you. “Of course.” Buzz. “I am sending them right now.” Buzz. “Did you want it sent to your assistant as well?” Buzz.

“If you could.” Buzz. “I'd appreciate it.” Buzz.

You grit your teeth, “Great.” Buzz.

You glare at your phone, hoping the intensity of your stare will compel him to stop texting you.

Buzz.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you click send. “Alright, I just sent them.”

“Thank you,” your boss says your name. “I'll be in touch.”

You nod, “Let me know if anything else is needed.” Your boss hangs up. The display on your phone changing back to your home screen. Buzz. You are going to kill this man.

Tim: at this point i feel like you're just ignoring me 😔

Tim: i KNOW you're home right now

Tim: gotta admit you're dedicated tho

You glare at your phone, quickly typing out a response.

hey sorry to disappoint but i can be at home AND still work, some of us are actually employed

He instantly responds.

Tim: tf you talking about?? I am literally the ceo of wayne enterprises bro 🥀

I thought that was Lucius??? and even if you are employed you sure act unemployed bro 🥀

Tim: are you calling me chronically online?

Tim: how do you think we met???

Tim: it's a two way street 😭

yeah but like

Tim: 🤨🤨

ok fair enough, but I was working 😭 what was so important that you had to spam me while I was talking to my BOSS

Tim: mb gang i didn't know :(((

Tim: I figured if you didn't respond the first time you'd respond by the 15th time

Tim: and it worked soooo….

get to the point

Tim: so consider

Tim: dinner

You feel your heart skip a beat, your thumbs freezing as any comments you had evaporate from your head.

Tim: at the manor

Oh… That makes more sense. Why would you assume he was asking you out? You scoff, feeling a low surge of disappointment run through your chest.

again??

Tim: yeah i don't wanna be alone 💔

won't there be like 10 people there??? how would you be alone?

Tim: can you just be there pls

no

Tim: please?

i'm busy

Tim: doing what

i shouldn't tell people online what i'm doing, that's creepy of you to ask there buddy 🤨

Tim: you've literally been in my ROOM before hello??

You chuckle, leaning back in your chair as you type. Any prior work you were doing is entirely forgotten.

that's an issue, what if I stole something? clearly SOMEBODY forgot to tell you never to tell strangers online your address 😔

Tim: fyi i can handle myself PERFECTLY fine

yeah huh

Tim: and are you implying you stole something from me???

no but i could've, you wouldn't have even noticed

Tim: no I would've

then why'd you ask me if I did?

Tim: to see if you'd admit guilt

I didn't steal anything though??

Tim: that's what a LIAR would say

oh my goodness

you're on your own for dinner

Tim: WAIT PLEASE

Tim: IM SORRY PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME WITH THEM

Tim: WE CAN HANG OUT AFTER MAKE IT A WHOLE THING

Tim: ACTUALLY WE CAN JUST DITCH LIKE HALFWAY THROUGH AND HEAD UP TO MY ROOM

damn you're acting as if they burn you at the stake each time there is dinner 😭

Tim: please be there i beg of you 🙏

mmmm i dunno you don't sound desperate enough

Tim: now I KNOW you're lying cause there's no WAY you just said that

Tim: I'd literally get on my knees and beg if I could

lmao what's stopping you?

Tim: my dignity

😔

Tim: u being fr rn?

the mental image is very funny

Tim: i'm sure it is, now can we get back on track? could you PLEASE show up to dinner Sunday I'm LITERALLY begging you

THIS SUNDAY???? I THOUGHT IT'D BE LIKE NEXT WEEK OR SOMETHING

Tim: PLEASE I KNOW IT'S SHORT NOTICE I WILL MAKE IT WORTH YOUR TIME 🙏

Tim: I'LL EVEN ASK ALFRED TO MAKE YOUR FAVORITE FOOD AND DESSERT

That makes you pause.

you will? 🤨

Tim: YES JUST PLEASE SHOW UP

mmm okay

gotta ask, why do you need me there that bad??? don't just say your lonely or smth stupid

Tim: if you're there, it forces everybody to act normal

You furrow your eyebrows, pondering what “abnormal” would look like for the Wayne family. They seemed kind of normal when you met them. Maybe it's some Wayne thing you just don't understand.

what does that even mean??

Tim: just trust me, you being there makes my life 1000x easier

oh so I'm bait 💀

Tim: nononono not like that

Tim: it's nothing actually bad I promise

relax Tim I'm joking lmao, I'll gladly be bait to make your family behave normally 🫡 (as long as you hold up with your deal with Alfred of course)

Tim: you're literally my favorite person in the world right now

Smiling, you chuckle at the message, leaning back into your chair. You are not going to read too much into that.

after this I better be, I'll see you later then

Tim: I can pick you up Sunday around five

perfect, see you then

Tim: see you

You place your phone down. Dinner, huh? It's not like you haven't been to the Wayne's for dinner. This shouldn't be any different. The only other time Tim invited you to dinner was when you were starting to get to know him in person. To be fair, he didn't exactly “invite” you. His family actually insisted that they had to meet Tim's new friend. Tim had quickly informed you that you could decline the “offer,” but you had went anyway. It's not like you could just decline an invitation from Bruce Wayne himself.

The difference between now and then is that Tim is not only inviting you, but practically begging you to show up. Sure, he had snuck you in a few times, but formal invitations were not something that either of you did, not anymore.

What changed?

It's not something you should read into. However, your mind keeps going back to that one line. You open your phone again, scrolling to look at the messages. Your thumb hovers over the message: “if you're there, it forces everybody to act normal.”

Now, it should not be something you should read into. However, the strange thing is, you know exactly what Tim is talking about. When you met the Wayne's everything was seemingly normal, but the issue was that it was too normal. It set off some alarm in your brain, but you couldn't figure out what they did that set it off.

Normal.

What defines normalcy?

Is it the standards that you are accustomed to? Is it expectations one expects a well-adjusted person to have? Either way, it set off some alarms because while you didn't know how to describe their usual behavior, Tim does.

They act normal when you're there. This implies that there is a time where they don't act normal.

Your finger lightly traces the edge of your phone as you stare at the messages. Now, you're definitely reading into this, but the fact of the matter is something is up.

You're going to figure it out.

Meeting Tim had been, potentially, the most unexpected event in your entire life. Now, since both of you live in Gotham, one might presume that perhaps you met somewhere in the city. Perhaps you went to the same university or bumped into each other on the street. Perhaps you had met him at one of the dozens of events hosted by the Waynes every year. The possibilities were endless.

Instead, you met him on a thread online.

You didn't even know it was him.

It had been an online forum. You don't even remember what the exact topic was. It was something photography related. One of the users— TimTam— had been discussing something about how to balance one's subject with the environment around them. They had gone on and on about the rule of thirds, and how the the environment was meant to enhance the subject. Curiously, you had checked out their profile. After all, you'd expect somebody who talked the talk to be able to walk the walk. You'd found a link to a blog he had.

Apparently, you should've never doubted TimTam because the photos he took were absolutely breathtaking. You've lived in Gotham for decades, and yet the photos that TimTam took exhibited an unconventional beauty of the otherwise deplorable city. For a moment, you wondered if this was his job. Some of the photos looked too perfect to just be a mere hobby. He had shots next to the gargoyles on Wayne Tower with angles that looked unfeasible for any sane person to achieve.

Who was this guy?

Curiosity got the better of you. You had attempted to look him up for any other social media accounts, but your efforts were fruitless. A conclusion that only made you more curious.

You wanted to find more about this mysterious individual, so you sent him a quick message. Polite and inquisitive.

Hello! I stumbled onto your page, and I adore your photography! I was wondering if you had any other social media accounts. I would love to follow some of your other socials.

Checking the original forum, you noticed that the timestamp was from over a week ago. Hopefully he'd respond. You didn't really keep up with online photography forums much. Stumbling onto this had been an accident, but a happy accident nevertheless. You were about to get up from your chair, when you saw a little bubble signifying a notification.

Your mouth parted in surprise. That was quick.

TimTam: Hello. I don't have any other socials at the moment for photography. I only really post it occasionally on my main.

You nod, understandable. It's a shame, but you weren't about to ask a random stranger for what may be their potentially personal account. You were about to type your response, when TimTam sends another message.

TimTam: You think I should make a photography accoutn?

TimTam: account*

You slowly blink at the message followed by the typo correction. Somehow this person seems a lot less intimidating than they did five seconds ago.

Absolutely! It's rare that I can find somebody capture Gotham in the perspective you do. I would definitely follow you if you make any other socials.

There's a pause for a moment. The bubble appears, disappears, and reappears again. You tap the space bar of your laptop idly, curious what TimTam has to say.

TimTam: Like right now?

You can't help the surprised snort that escapes you.

I mean if you want? I meant more generally, but now works.

TimTam: Right, right, of course

You like their message, unsure how to respond to that. You think that's the end of your adventures with TimTam, but about ten minutes later you get another message. You open the chat back up. It's an Instagram link.

TimTam: Thanks for the advice. I made the social.

You nod as if they can see your physical response. Tapping onto the link.

For sure! Honored to be the first official follower :)

You actually are their first follower. The account's user is Tim_Tam with a profile picture sitting on the ledge of a building overlooking the sunset. Zero posts, one follower, zero following. It was brand new. Not even a bio present.

Satisfied with how the interaction went, you had presumed that your conversations with TimTam had ended. You didn't exactly give them a reason to keep contacting you.

A few days went by, and slowly TimTam began to post on social media. His first posts garnered thousands of likes, which you found impressive for such a fresh account. You did tell him that he'd do well on other platforms. It didn't take long for him to build up a following. Nothing insane, but definitely a good start.

You had been keeping up with TimTam. You weren't sure what drew you to him, but you found yourself liking each post of his. You found a smile appear on your face each time he posted.

Perhaps you were a tad bit proud that your suggestion led to such fruition.

Judging by the way he had immediately asked you if he should make a photography account, you assumed that he had previously considered the idea. Either that or he was a very spontaneous person.

Either way, you took some satisfaction out of it.

Days had gone by and you watched as his followers trickled up. You found yourself living vicariously through TimTam, silently celebrating ten thousand followers with him.

Then you saw it.

You had been about to go to bed. It was nearly midnight, and it was freezing. The comforters weighed heavily onto you, shrouding you in warmth. On top of that, you had pulled the Batman throw blanket up to your neck, nearly suffocating yourself with the soft material. The blanket had the different symbols of all the Bats plastered onto it against a light gray backdrop. You'd gotten it years ago, and to this day it was still one of your favorite blankets.

You squinted your eyes as the bright light of your phone shone through the otherwise dark room. Your eyes started to feel the strain as you continued to fight the urge to sleep.

Then you saw the notification.

The first thing you registered wasn't the message, but the sender of the message.

TimTam (or is it Tim_Tam now?) had sent you a message.

Sitting up, you read the notification, not wanting him to know you're reading his message.

Tim_Tam

[Image attached]

Sent now

Tim_Tam

[Image attached]

Sent now

Tim_Tam

Which one do you think looks better?

Sent now

You paused, thumb hovering over the Instagram notifications. You couldn't see the photos if you didn't click the message. However, if you clicked the messages, he'd know you're awake.

Would it be weird to respond? It's nearly midnight. What if he judges your poor sleeping schedule?

Then again… He texted you first. If anything he should be worried about how he comes across. Also, why should you care? It's just a stranger on the internet.

Before you could reconsider your actions, you clicked on the messages.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw.

The two photos looked practically identical. Upon closer inspection, you noticed a few discrepancies, but they were so insignificant that they were practically the same photo.

It was taken on a rooftop. Nightwing and Robin were shown to be conversing with one another. It was, quite possibly, the clearest photos of the vigilantes you had ever seen.

Of course, you've seen the blurry images and videos of the vigilantes captured by the news or even by Gothamites themselves, but none of them were this sharp. It was evident that the photo was taken from a distance (likely due to TimTam not wanting to be spotted), but that didn't change the fact that this was potentially the best photo you'd seen of the vigilantes before.

Sure, you've seen a whispered shadow pass over your head, or even heard the roar of the Batmobile echo across the city, but you had never gotten a clear look at their faces. It's blurry enough where specific identifiable facial features may not be evident, but it's clear enough that you can actually deduce their facial expressions.

Nightwing appears to be smiling, a wide grin plastered onto his face. Robin doesn't share the same expression. It's more difficult to tell what he's thinking, but it's evident that he does not share Nightwing's apparent amusement.

You swipe between the two photos TimTam sent. You were only able to make out five differences total. In the first photo, Robin's shoulders were more tense, Nightwing's mouth was slightly open (though still grinning) as if caught mid-speech, and the lights of the city shined down a low red lighting onto their costumes, bathing them in the ominous color.

The second photo had Nightwing simply offering an amused grin, smiling with his teeth on display. He wasn't saying anything. Robin's shoulders were more relaxed, but the unamused expression was a constant in both photos. The low red lighting from the first photo turned into a slightly more vibrant scarlet that enveloped the subjects. If you looked closely, you'd notice that Nightwing had a couple strands of hair out of place. The change making him look slightly more unkempt. The only other noticeable change was the direction Robin faced. In the second photo, he is angled just ever so slightly more towards Nightwing.

The second one for sure. It makes them both look cooler with the lighting and it feels slightly more personal.

Tim_Tam: Okay, thanks.

You stare at the photos for a moment longer, waiting for something else. No other response came. You furrow your brows, typing another message. Before TimTam was interesting. But now?

Wait that's it?

Now he's borderline unreal.

Tim_Tam: Yeah, I couldn't really decide

Tim_Tam: It's not like I could ask Nightwing and Robin their opinions. I doubt they even know the photo was taken.

Who even is this guy?

You're telling me that you snuck up on NIGHTWING and ROBIN

and you can't choose which photo looks better???

Tim_Tam: In all fairness, their vibes are VERY different. I couldn't tell which one to go for.

He's right. Despite capturing the same moment, the minute differences change the interpretation of the photos immensely.

That's fair.

Should I even ask how you got these photos?

Tim_Tam: It sounds like you are asking

Tim_Tam: Let's just say I have my ways

You frown. That was entirely expected, but still disappointing.

Are you planning on selling them?

There's a pause for a moment. The bubbles appear, then disappear, then reappear.

Tim_Tam: What?

Like the photos. You could probably sell them to the Gotham Gazette and get a quick buck or something.

I don't think I've ever seen any news agency with photos THIS clear. I'm sure they'd eat it up.

Tim_Tam: Maybe? I hadn't really considered that

Wait wait you're telling me you stalked after vigilantes for love of the game??

Tim_Tam: yeah pretty much

At this point, you're wide awake. All sleepiness that clouded your brain fanned away long ago.

Are those the only ones you have?

There's a long pause.

Tim_Tam: At the moment.

I'm not saying you should follow the Bats again but like…

These photos are actually phenomenal, you could get famous for this.

There's another long pause.

Tim_Tam: You think?

100%. I've NEVER seen such prisitine photos of Nightwing and Robin. It's genuinely impressive.

Tim_Tam: Hm

Tim_Tam: I'll see what I can do.

That was the start of your friendship with TimTam. Vigilante photos. Two nights after the Nightwing and Robin photo situation, you received another text.

Tim_Tam

[Image attached]

Sent now

You nearly dropped your phone upon opening the message.

If you thought the Nightwing and Robin photo was clear? This was night and day. It was single handled the best photo of Red Robin you've ever seen. The image pictured Red Robin kicking some criminal. The dynamic pose combined with the sheer clarity of the photo made for an actual masterpiece. You could see the way that his suit fit his form. The way he clenched his jaw as he struck the criminal. It was so close. It almost looks like TimTam had taken security camera footage, zoomed in, and somehow enhanced it.

???

Tim_Tam: Is that a good or bad ???

GOOD DEFINITELY GOOD

HOW IS IT SOMEHOW BETTER THAN THE NIGHTWING AND ROBIN ONE

Tim_Tam: I'm good at photography I guess

Tim_Tam: you're a Red Robin fan?

Were you imagining the smug tone behind that? Was Red Robin even your favorite? You liked Red Robin, but your favorite?

I suppose

Tim_Tam: You suppose?? Damnnnn okay

My bad 😭 didn't realize you were a big Red Robin fan

Tim_Tam: No no it's fine

Tim_Tam: Perhaps I'll have to get more to convince you

At that point just interview him. You're already stalking the poor guy.

Tim_Tam: He's finr

Tim_Tam: fine*

He paused.

Tim_Tam: For the record though, I probably could

You chuckled. Whoever this was seemed very confident they could get an interview with Red Robin. Have you even seen vigilante interviews? Maybe a statement or two here and there, but never full on interviews.

Maybe stick to your day job

Tim_Tam: I feel like you're challenging me 🤨

Nonono

Just like

I'd hate to read in the paper that Red Robin beat you up

There was a long moment of silence, Tim_Tam wasn't even typing.

Tim_Tam: Nah I can handle him

You were full on laughing at your phone by this point.

Tim_Tam: He didn't even notice me taking the photos or anything

And that translates to his fighting ability??

Tim_Tam: I mean all you got to do is get one really good hit in and he's out

Tim_Tam: he's only human

you sure of that? 🤨🤨

Tim_Tam: Positive, I think I have a shot

Well then, I await the day I see the headline

“photographer takes out Red Robin with a single hit”

Tim_Tam: Oh yeah that'll for sure be the headline

Tim_Tam: I'll personally get the photo for that story. Send a photo of it just to you to prove myself

Do you always look for validation from strangers on the internet??

Tim_Tam: Do you always judge the photos of photographers on the internet??

do NOT pin this on me, you asked me to pick between the two :(

Tim_Tam: mhm

I wasn't even being critical of them, all I said was that I liked the second one better

Tim_Tam: I believe your exact words were that they looked “cooler” and “felt more personal”

I didn't say the other ones were bad though!! I'm pretty sure I said they were the BEST photos of Nightwing and Robin I've seen so far

also

Tim_Tam: ?

You hesitated. Was this being too casual with TimTam? The two of you seem to be getting along fine, but you hadn't asked him any truly heavy questions.

I was just curious— feel free to not answer— but are you planning on posting the Nightwing and Robin photos?

Somehow, you felt as if the tension rose at your question. TimTam diidn't immediately respond. There was no indication that he's even read your message. Then you saw the bubble. Typing. Not typing. Typing.

Tim_Tam: No

Tim_Tam: I can't

Absentmindedly you tapped the side of your phone, eyebrows furrowing.

Ah okay

The response was lame, and both of you knew it. You silently berated yourself for ruining the atmosphere. TimTam didn't respond after that. He didn't react to the message, but you still saw that he was online. Resigned, you slowly put your phone back on the nightstand. Shutting your eyes, you twist your body in the opposite direction of the device. Out of sight, out of mind—

Bzzt!

Your phone's vibration caused you to freeze. No, no. You needed to sleep. It might not even be TimTam. It could've been a random email that you'll never look at. Even if it was TimTam, it was completely understandable if you didn't respond, given how late it is.

However, curiosity did kill the cat.

You turned over, slowly grabbing you phone. You had zero expectations (at least that's what you told yourself). TimTam was probably asleep too. It's not like you two were close enough to be chatting casually this late.

Tim_Tam: It's not that I don't want to don't get me wrong

Tim_Tam: It's just that something happened, and I can't do it

Without thinking, you opened the message. Damn it, he's going to think you're a loser, immediately coming online the moment he messages you.

No need to justify yourself, I get it

I'm glad that you decided to share the photos you've taken with me though

TimTam paused, but his next reply had you reeling.

Tim_Tam: Robin paid me a visit

You felt your heart start to pound as if it was you who Robin visited. You could only imagine how TimTam handled the situation. How did he neglect to mention that?!

Are you serious??? Thought you said that he and Nightwing weren't aware you were photographing them?

Tim_Tam: So

Tim_Tam: How do I say this

The responses were rapid, you could feel TimTam's unease through the screen.

Shoudl I be concerned??

should*

Tim_Tam: Would you believe me if I hypothetically said I sought out Robin

like you took more photos of him??

Tim_Tam: No like I talked with him

He did what?

Tim_Tam: And hypothetically he said that the photos must never be seen by the public

hypothetically did you agree??

Tim_Tam: kinda??

oh my gosh are you going to be on a vigilante hit list?

Tim_Tam: I don't think that's a thing 💀

you THINK? the same guy who THOUGHT Nightwing and Robin weren't aware of you??

Tim_Tam: TECHNICALLY they weren't, I just wanted to show them the photos get their thoughts

…my guy this is on you why would you TELL them??

praying for you 🙏

Tim_Tam: Are you still implying that Robin is going to off me??

I'm JUST saying, now they know who you are

if they see any photos like the ones you took they'll know it was you

probably dox you or something idk

Tim_Tam: You make an excellent point

Tim_Tam: eh It'll be fine though

Did you get Nightwing or Red Robin's opinion too?

It felt stupid to ask. You imagine he would've said something if he met another vigilante. TimTam took a minute to respond.

Tim_Tam: Nightwing no, Red Robin yes

Or not… What kind of guy just casually forgets to mention he met not one but two vigilantes?

What'd he say?

Tim_Tam: He thought it was cool

You stared at the message for a long moment, waiting to see if he'd elaborate.

He thought it was cool??

Tim_Tam: Yep

and that's it..?

Tim_Tam: Uhh I can't really remember

did he knock you out or something??? you conversed with RED ROBIN and can't even bother to remember what he said??

Tim_Tam: to be fair he didn't say much

You're telling me he SERIOUSLY just said “cool” and then left??

Tim_Tam: yeah pretty much

You let out a puff of amusement. What a weird world you live in. This random internet photographer you found has somehow met two of Gotham's vigilante's, been threatened by one of them, and is still acting like this isn't a big deal.

Tim_Tam: Oh and he said he didn't mind the photos

Finally, something.

Are you going to try and catch him again?

I feel obligated to preface this by saying this is NOT me encouraging you to go track down vigilantes

Tim_Tam: uhhhh

???

Tim_Tam: [Image Attached]

Tim_Tam: You're a bit too late, already caught him again

You stare blankly at the new image. It's another image of Red Robin. This time it's not an action shot. Instead, it capture the vigilante sitting casually on the edge of the building. His knee is propped up in front of him, his arm casually resting on it. The angle of this photo is different. It isn't taken from above, nor from the streets below. Instead, it's taken from the very rooftop Red Robin is sitting on. If you had to hazard a guess, TimTam took this photo from the ground of the rooftop with his camera at a low angle.

Dude did you CRAWL to get this photo???

Tim_Tam: …why would you ask that??

Cause how else did you get a get that specific angle of Red Robin?? Did you share a rooftop with him??

You pause, scrutinizing the photograph. There's a figure in the back, and upon further examination, you realize who it is.

IS THAT NIGHTWING IN THE DISTANCE???? YOU CAUGHT HIM AGAIN???

Tim_Tam: What???

There is a pause for a moment.

Tim_Tam: Huh didn't even see him lol

“Didn't even see him lol.” You weren't even sure if you're surprised anymore. All you can do is stare at the photograph with Red Robin (and Nightwing pictured in the back) in awe. For a moment, you considered whether TimTam truly asked Red Robin to pose for it. It certainly looked like it.

you ACCIDENTALLY got a picture of Red Robin posing with Nightwing in the distance???

Tim_Tam: Red Robin isn't posing what??

dude he is LITERALLY posing for the photo

There was a momentary pause.

Tim_Tam: idk it looks pretty natural to me

sure we'll go with that

You sighed, rubbing you temples. This guys has to be playing you.

Tim_Tam: damn okay fine doubt me

Tim_Tam: I'll try again

You almost felt your blood pressure spike seeing the message. What kind of person gets threatened by Robin and decides to pursue the guy? Determined, you pick up your phone, fingers flying over the keyboard.

You are not going to be a bystander in this guy's inevitable demise.

Was it an unconventional way to befriend somebody? Perhaps, but it was Gotham. TimTam seemed relatively nice, a trait found few and far between in a city like this. It helped that he enjoyed your company as well. There were many nights where neither of you could fall asleep, and the only thing keeping you up was the quiet vibration of your phone going off, signaling that he was still there.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months dragged on for a year.

After a year, you’d think that you’d know a bit more about who TimTam really was. Perhaps a small slip up that leads to a meet up? Did you even want to meet up with TimTam? What if he’s been playing the long game, waiting to get your trust before inevitably killing you in a back alley, your name never to be mentioned again outside of a True Crime Story podcast in a few years. You shuddered at the thought.

Dramatic? Yes. Paranoid? Absolutely.

Still doesn’t stop the growing desire to know who he is.

Have you walked past him on the street? Maybe you went to school together? Perhaps you both frequent a place with no idea the other is there. The possibilities were endless. They were killing you, and yet neither of you brought up the topic.

The closest you got to hints was talking about the latest news.

did you see hear about those buildings that Firefly lit up?

Tim_Tam: “see” would be an understatement, closer to felt

Your eyebrows raised into your hairline.

oh shit, are you okay??

Tim_Tam: i’m fineeee

Tim_Tam: tis but a scratch

Tim_Tam: or burn

You back straightened as you sat up from the curb. Police sirens still rang out, the blaring noise causing your eardrums to vibrate in an unpleasant manner. You frantically looked over the crowd of people: officers, paramedics, examiners, victims, detectives.

Is he one of them?

You weren’t sure what he looked like. He’d been (frustratingly) vague about who he is, but, to be fair, you weren’t any more explicit.

you’re here?

The message is sent and read almost immediately. You watch as the bubble of him typing appears. On. Off. On. Off. You stare at the screen, squinting, attempting to block out the noise of your environment. For a moment, you wonder if something happened. Does he not want to answer that question?

Tim_Tam: wait you're here??

Tim_Tam: shit what are you doing here?

Against your will, your heart started pumping. The accelerating rhythm causing your hands to shake as you typed out your next message, even if— at the time— you insisted it was just the cold, damp, air of Gotham.

Tim_Tam: are you okay?

Tim_Tam: did anything happen to you?

Tim_Tam: are you still here?

You didn't get a chance to respond. Tim manages to send three messages in the time it takes your freezing hands to type half of one. You ran your finger slowly against the screen of your phone, your hands leaving imprints on the device.

not for much longer, I’m planning on leaving soon

“I’m free to go, right?” You confirmed with the paramedic on your right, looking over a young boy. The kid was unharmed, but apparently did not appreciate the examination. The paramedic turned to you, looking you up and down.

“You were already checked for other injuries? Concussions? Anything?” They slowly turned away from you back to the kid. You nodded, “Yeah, I feel fine.” You weren’t lying either. If anything, you were more shaken up then injured.

The paramedic sighed, “Alright, just make sure to rest. It’s been a long night. Take it easy for the next few days. If you notice anything, I’d go to any of the Wayne sponsored health facilities.” They pasued for a moment. “If anything, I’d recommend the clinic near Crime Alley if you want to avoid wait times.” They shined a light into the boy’s eye, “Sketchy area, but the General Hospital tends to get overcrowded fast.”

You blinked, surprised by the helpful advice. “Thanks,” you nodded slowly, “I’ll keep that in mind.” You waited there for an extra beat to see if they’d respond, but it seemed as if that was all they had to say. Slowly, you made your way around the scene, ducking under the caution tape as you attempted to find a way out of the area. Reporters and police officers appeared to be stationed at every corner of the scene, and you didn't particularly want to look at the burned down section of the Upper West Side mere blocks away from the university.

Braving the crowds of cameras it is.

Slowly, you made your way over to the least crowded corner of the scene, nodding at the officer. He returned the nod and watched you raise the caution tape and walk past the dozens of journalists and reporters.

Then you felt it.

You’re no stranger to the sensation of having eyes on you. In fact, it’s a universal experience for every Gothamite. You’d heard stories from friends who committed crimes, albeit petty ones, that even if they got away with a crime or two, they always felt like he was watching. Despite avoiding crime as much as possible (a challenge on its own), you somehow understood them.

The sensation of somebody always there.

Somebody always in the shadows.

Somebody watching.

Usually, you’d describe that sensation as heavy, looming. It was akin to a shadow being cast over you, blocking out any source of light, essentially leaving you in the darkness with nothing but your own doubts and fears. It's part of how Batman was able to have some semblance of control of crime.

However, contrary to that fear, it also provided a sense of safety. You knew you weren’t a target, you’d never be a target. That fear that’s instilled by Batman wasn’t meant for you, it was meant to help people like you.

This, though, is different.

There is no doubt in your mind somebody is watching you. Your skin prickles at the thought, yet the longer you wait for that sharp spike of fear…

It doesn’t come.

Now, you’ve lived in Gotham for a long time. Perhaps your instincts aren’t perfect, but you’d say they’re pretty damn good.

So the fact that somebody is singling you out and watching you? Your brain screamed at you that there was everything wrong with that, which made sense. It’s an assertion most people would agree with.

However.

With an almost dramatic turn, you slowly lifted your gaze up to the buildings across the street. Far enough to be safe from the fire, but close enough to have the perfect view.

You huffed, a small smile on your face.

In the distance, you saw two figures on the rooftop. While it’s hard to deduce the exact builds of the tem, what you could see were the colors.

You could also tell that one of them is looking directly at you. After seeing who knows how many Red Robin photos in the past year (courtesy of Tim), you concluded that Red Robin was most definitely watching you from across the street.

Yep, this is normal. Perhaps Red Robin knows that Tim sends you the photos he takes of him.

You slowly raised a hand up, hesitantly waving at him.

For a moment, nothing happened, and you felt a tad bit stupid for waving at a vigilante and expecting him to wave back. Awkwardly, you lowered your arm, grabbing your phone out of your pocket to check the time. Shutting your phone back off, you shifted your eyes up, expecting the vigilantes to have vanished (something you’ve heard they’re notorious for).

Instead, your mouth parted in surprise as Red Robin slowly waved back at you.

You blinked slowly at the vigilante in the distance in sheer disbelief, not physically reacting otherwise. Almost as if he’s embarrassed, Red Robin slowly lowered his arm back down. The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer before, inevitably, something else caught his attention. His head tilted away from you, and you watched as he turned to face Spoiler and Black Bat (when did Black Bat get there?).

You used the opportunity to slowly raise your phone up, zooming your camera in on the small group of vigilantes before snapping a photo.

Tim won’t believe this.

Tim did, in fact, believe you.

Truthfully, he was… not as impressed with you as you were with yourself.

Tim_Tam: lowkey?? why is the quality pixilated 💀

I’m sorry I don’t walk around with a professional camera around my neck???

Also what happened to “man that was really scary” and “I hope you’re okay”

Tim_Tam: man that was really scary

Tim_Tam: I hope you’re okay

Tim_Tam: quality could be better tho (genuinely glad you're okay though)

damn I’m sorry not all of us have vigilantes on call to do photo shoots with

I tried my best and I was lucky I even got that shot

you know he WAVED at me

thought he’d ignore me

Tim_Tam: Why would he ignore you??

idk maybe he’s like “eugh look at the civilian waving at me like a loser”

Tim paused for a moment.

Tim_Tam: why does he sound so mean in your head??

oh right mb, forgot you're the #1 RR apologist

Tim_Tam: okay now THATS an exaggeration

is it though??

Tim_Tam: very much so yes

if you say so

You snorted, putting your phone on the nightstand and turning the lights off before you nestled yourself into bed. Gotham's freezing weath showed no mercy tonight, and the warm blankets made you brain leap with joy, sending tingles throughout your body. Your phone was charging, the night was young, you’d actually sleep well tonight, and—

The light of your phone flashed, blinding you temporarily. The accompanying vibration didn’t help because now you knew it was Tim. Huffing, you turn your body away from the device that attempts to lure you in.

You needed to go to sleep early, you had an eight AM the next day. You couldn't afford to lose sleep talking to—

The light from your phone manages to light up the whole room, even if you’re not facing the source.

Okay, you will check the phone once to turn the brightness down. You would not read the messages. Tim would understand. You have to sleep, being a responsible adult and all that. With a slow, deep sigh, you reached over to grab your phone, squinting when you realize just how bright it was. That’s when you saw the messages:

Tim_Tam

Would you want to meet in person?

Sent 3m ago

Tim_Tam

Sorry that was really abrupt

Sent 1m ago

Tim_Tam

Just ignore that lol

Sent now

You had never sat up so fast from your bed, and that’s including the times he sent you those photos of the Bats the first few times.

Tim wants to what?

You haven’t even called the guy before.

Wait you can’t just drop that on me and leave

Tim_Tam: sorry?

Where would you want to meet?

Tim_Tam: Wait you’re saying yes?

Tim_Tam: What if I’m like a creepy serial killer who befriends people on the internet and then takes them to their house to kill them?

You paused.

Are you?

Tim_Tam: No but like

Tim_Tam: how would you know I’m NOT?

I can’t tell if you’re trying to defend yourself

I’m like 99% sure you’re not a killer though?

Tim_Tam: Okay but like

Tim_Tam: 99% isn’t 100%

Tim_Tam: chances are not 0

Tim

Tim_Tam: yeah?

If you want to meet, where would it be?

Tim_Tam: uhh

Tim_Tam: Robinson Park work?

Yeah I can probably head there after my classes

I’ll be done around 11

Tim_Tam: Alright cool

Was it you, or did this feel a little anticlimactic? Perhaps it just hadn't hit you yet? You waited for another message, yet the bubbles of forming messages continued to taunt you.

Tim_Tam: Sorry I gtg, we can work out more details later?

Yeah sure, have fun photographing your fav

Tim_Tam: haha you’re SO funny

I know :)

The next day came all too soon yet not quick enough. The second you opened your eyes, a singular thought implanted itself in your head:

Today was the day you were going to meet Tim.

Despite the quiz you had during your early morning discussion, and the midterm prep went over during your following lecture. Neither of the them made you as anxious as meeting Tim. As the final minutes of your lecture passed, you felt a nervous excitement run through your body.

Okay done with my classes, omw

You sent the quick text, giving him a heads up. It’d probably take you a bit to walk there, but it gave you enough time to plan this out.

Like… Do you need to worry about first impressions?

Is this a first impression?

You're technically meeting him for the first time, but it’s not like he’s a stranger.

It's... First-impression-adjacent. Yeah, something like that. You still weren't sure, but you didn't get a chance to dwell on it because you felt your phone vibrate. You didn't stop walking as you check the screen.

Tim_Tam: Hey there is something I should tell you before we meet

Tim_Tam: It’s a little important

uh oh, you’re not actually a killer right?

Tim_Tam: no, no, no

Tim_Tam: Nothing like that

Tim_Tam: but uh

Tim_Tam: My name

Tim_Tam: it’s Tim Drake

You halted. Staring at the words laid plainly on your phone. Tim Drake?

That Tim Drake? The one Bruce Wayne took in? You weren't well versed in the intricate details of the Wayne family lore, but you know about as much as any other Gotham citizen. Bruce Wayne’s parents were murdered in front of him when he was a kid, and now he’s a billionaire playboy with a known habit of adopting kids. Tim Drake is one of them. You didn't actually know much about him, but you’ve seen him on TV or on the news every now and then talking about Wayne Enterprises or something.

woah that’s crazy

I didn’t wan tot tell you but I’m actually Bruce Wayne

want to*

Tim_Tam: I’m not joking I swear

nor am I

Tim_Tam: You don’t believe me

I believe you when you say you aren’t a killer

idk about the Tim Drake thing though

Tim_Tam: should I be concerned that you somehow find me being myself is less probable than me being a killer?

Probably

Is this like a new catfishing tactic

There was a long pause.

Tim_Tam: I’m sorry what??

You could almost hear the bewilderment, and you chuckle at the thought.

oh you know

Tim_Tam: I don’t actually? Is this a common occurrence for you??

no

hence why I ask what’s with the Tim Drake catfishing tactic

Tim_Tam: I really hope it’s NOT a thing? How would it even work??

idk probably something like “Hey baby my name is Tim Drake, I have lots of money do you want to meet at the park to get to know each other better?”

Tim_Tam: I have never ONCE in my LIFE said that

Tim_Tam: I swear I am Tim Drake, we’re literally meeting in like five minutes

Tim_Tam: I promise I’m here, just meet me around the gardens

Now, was it stupid to potentially walk into such an obviously fake trap?

Absolutely.

Did you do it anyway?

Absolutely.

It wasn’t long before you had found a bench not too far from the gardens. You sent Tim-Maybe-Drake a quick update on your location. In spite of how ill-prepared you may seem to the naked eye, you did ask one of your friends to check your location and check in to make sure you don’t die.

Oh and pepper spray. Better safe than sorry.

Tim-Maybe-Drake reacted to your message with a quick thumbs up, and you fidgeted on the bench. You loosely kicked a rock with your foot, taking note of old footprints on the dirt path. As the minutes passed by, the anxiety began to creep back in. What if this was just a joke? What if you were dead-on with the catfishing Tim Drake idea? It was a strange idea, but it got you to come meet in person, didn’t it?

Somebody cleared their throat from the left side of the path, and you turn to look up.

Holy shit.

You blinked rapidly as if Tim Drake will vanish from your eyesight. He looks both the same and different from what you’ve seen in photos. Physically, he mostly looks the same, perhaps a bit leaner than you expected. He must workout, you idly note. His hair looks the same as it does in the photos, perhaps a bit more messy? It also seems too perfect in every photo you see of him.

However, the way he carries himself?

When you searching up information about a billionaire and his children, you saw what you expected online. Articles written on the Wayne children weren’t nearly as ever present as ones about Bruce himself, but every now and then there would be something.

In the few minutes before Tim arrived (you may have looked him up mere seconds before his arrival), you noticed that he looked confident, composed. He had that air about him that only comes from growing up in such a high-end environment.

On one hand, you see the Tim Drake that the media portrays. The adopted son of Bruce Wayne. A man who has clearly grown up in an environment so unlike your own it’s a miracle you even crossed paths with him.

However, you also see the hint of uncertainty that bleeds through his fleeting glances to you. The way his eyes rest on you anxiously, as if waiting for your judgment. For a moment, you consider that he was just as anxious about meeting you than you were meeting him. The prospect seems absurd, but looking at him now, you believe it.

“Oh…” You commented eloquently.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “That’s— That’s it? Just ‘oh?’”

You nodded slowly, “I mean— I… You know I had like zero faith in you.” That’s a lie, you had at least a sprinkle of faith that he was telling the truth. Not that you’ll tell him that.

“That’s reassuring. Thank you for that.” Tim replied dryly.

“You know the whole photographing vigilante’s thing makes so much sense now.” You stood up, hesitantly approaching him.

He tilted his head, “How so?”

“Only rich people would have such an insane hobby. The adrenaline rush or something I assume.” You shrugged casually, and Tim had the gall to to look offended.

“Okay, but my main thing isn’t even photographing vigilantes. I don’t even post those, and you know that.” He raised a finger indignantly. “And they aren’t even intentional anyway! I’m just lucky.”

“Luckiest guy I’ve ever met then.” You smirked, “Save some for the rest of us.”

He chuckled, “Of course, it’s my fault whenever somebody has bad luck.”

“At least you acknowledge it.” You huffed, a grin plastered on your face.

He laughs, and it hits you that this is Tim, as in the Tim you’ve been talking to day and night. That Tim also happens to be the billionaire Tim Drake, and you are having a normal conversation with him in a park in Gotham. You watch as his eyes crinkle in amusement, and you feel yourself mirroring his expression involuntarily.

You stifled your laughter, clearing your throat, “You know, I was actually worried you were catfishing me.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “If I wanted to catfish you, I’d have gone about this way different.” He pauses, "For the record, I do not want to catfish you."

“That’s reassuring.” You threw his own words back at him, and he sighed.

“It should be.” He paused for a moment, and the two of you continue to walk down a path. “Did you really not suspect anything?”

You blink, “About you being…” you gestured to him, and he nodded. You shook your head, “Not until you said anything, no. You don’t give ‘Tim Drake vibes’ when we text.” You did air quotes.

He let out a surprised laugh, “What— What are ‘Tim Drake vibes?’” He looked amused at the prospect.

You shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s just, when I text you, I don’t think ‘wow this guy seems like Tim Drake.’”

He nodded as if that made sense, “I’m going to take that as a good thing?”

You shrugged, “I mean it’s certainly a thing. Your call about whether it’s good or bad.”

He sighed, and you laughed at his exasperated expression. “Y’know now that I actually know you’re you, I’m surprised you actually showed up.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise, “Why would I not? I asked you?”

“You had no idea who I was up to like five minutes ago, what if I had planned this and planned on using you for ransom?” You teased, and the two of you exit the park. You weren't sure where Tim is taking you, but you’re heading back in the direction of Gotham University.

“Been there.” By his tone alone, you believed him. “And trust me I can handle myself perfectly fine if you tried kidnapping me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “If you can handle yourself so well, how come people were able to kidnap you for ransom in the past?”

He opened his mouth, glaring at you, ready to defend himself, but no words came out.

“I… Those were extenuating circumstances.” He scoffed.

“Mhm, real extenuating.” Your voice contained the utmost sympathy for him.

“And I feel like you’re mocking me.” He tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“It’s okay, I probably wouldn’t have been able to escape the thugs too.” You winced, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

“That’s not—” At your laughter he stops talking, and instead stares dumbly at you, slowly blinking, as you continue to laugh at him. He released a half-amused exhale while you snickered at him for the next few minutes.

The rest of the meeting went well, very well. The two of you had instantly fell back into your familiar banter, except it was a thousand times more exciting in person. After that meeting, Tim had started asking if you wanted to hang out regularly. It was a safe distance for both of you. Neither of you got too close.

Then he invited you to one of Bruce Wayne’s charity events. It was a casual invite, it meant nothing, and you knew that. He wasn’t inviting you as a partner, but as a friend. It was a completely normal invite that had no other implications. Why would you stress over that?

It certainly didn’t help your stress levels when you realized that if you accepted you’d have to meet Bruce Wayne himself.

You had— not subtly— asked Tim if this meant that you would be subjected to the judgment of his family. He had told you that you “Don’t need to worry about that” and that “They should be the last people judging.” Both of his “reassurances” did little to truly ease your worries.

Eventually, you had accepted, attempting to dress your best. The actual event itself was as you expected. Long and filled with lots of meaningless chatter. The main joy found was snickering with Tim off to the side. You had teased him for the sheer switch in personality he would make every time one of Gotham’s elites approached you both. It was kind of jarring, the phoniness of everything here. It made you feel better every time would side eye you with a look reading “Get a load of this guy.”

It reminded you that somehow you had worked into one of the highest circle’s in Gotham without even knowing. Seeing him turn to you, relieved to have somebody who knows him?

It may sound silly, but it made you feel good, like your friendship actually means something.

Your gratification at the prospect was short lived. Quickly replaced with the familiar stress of meeting Bruce Wayne. Tim reassured you that it would not be as bad as you were imagining, and that he’ll like you. You didn’t share his confidence, but you appreciated his optimism. You ignored the idea in your head that this could be interpreted as you both dating.

Cause that’d be stupid.

It turns out that Tim was right though. Bruce was actually not as bad as you expected. He was a bit brash and you definitely forced some laughs in the conversation, but he seemed to approve of you the second that Tim introduced you. You didn’t miss the look that he gave Tim when first introducing you. Tim never mentioned it afterwards, and while you were curious about it, you didn’t feel the need to bring it up.

By the end of the night, he had introduced you to most of his family, and— like Bruce— they all seemed to like you. The consensus seemed to be positive, which was what you were hoping for. After leaving your final introduction with Duke, Tim had placed his hand on your shoulder with a grin as if saying “See? You lived!”

After that event, you had assumed that meetings with his family would be few and far between. Perhaps for a social event every now and then, but you didn’t expect to start seeing them regularly.

It felt strange at first, like visiting someone’s house for the first time and always having to go through the unavoidable phase where you practically tip-toe everywhere, not wanting their family to hate you.

It was that but tenfold.

Tim had welcomed you in, soon followed by Steph and Duke. You felt more at ease the longer the four of you spent time together. By the time it was time for you to return home, you had practically forgotten your earlier worries.

It quickly became routine. At least once a week, you’d come over to hang out at the Manor. Sometimes Steph would be there, sometimes some of his brothers would be, and sometimes it’d be just you and Tim. As time went on, you started to hang out with his family without him, and you quickly found yourself recounting stories about Tim over girl’s night with Steph, Cass, and occasionally Barbara. You had told them how the two of you met, and somebody must have talked because you had received texts from Tim the next day saying that everybody was making fun of him. You felt a tad bit bad for him, but both of you seemed more amused than genuinely angry.

You were happy.

It seemed like everything was going right for once. You were doing well in university, your job was paying the bills, and you had a group of friends you truly liked being around. Your life felt normal, and that felt good.

Obviously, that normalcy didn't last for long.

You got out of the taxi, walking up the stone steps as you put your phone away. Unfortunately, registration this semester was not kind to you, and you ended up with a lecture at seven in the evening on a Friday.

Not ideal.

You had debated skipping this class, but you told yourself that you’re going to do the responsible thing and show up to class. After all, with finals coming up, you didn’t want to make any risks that could lead to failure.

The lecture itself was the same as always. You had definitely spaced out a few times, and the dim lighting of the room combined with the slow tone of the professor was not helping one bit. By the end of the lecture, it seemed like everybody was eager to go home, and the professor had even let the lecture end ten minutes earlier.

Instantly packing up all your notes, you had promptly left the building. The chilling breeze of Gotham immediately hit you, and you sighed realizing it had begun raining. Typical Gotham weather strikes again.

You had attempted to stay under any roofs you could, but eventually you were forced to venture out into the pouring rain. Before reaching the main streets, you had taken a shortcut. A shortcut you had taken hundreds of times in the past. It was a lot less crowded, and did a better job of shielding you from the rain.

Weaving around puddles on the ground, you attempted to get out of the path as fast as possible. All you could think of is that warm taxi that would be awaiting you at the end of this alley. The end was in sight, but that vision crumbled before your eyes when the resounding blow of gunfire echoed in your enclose space. It caused you to flinch, and you immediately spun around, attempting to determine the source of the sound. You didn’t see anybody behind you, so you came to the dreadful conclusion that it came from your intended destination.

You slow to a stop, is it worth just pushing forward and attempting to run for the first taxi you see? You already made it this far, and you’d have to retrace your steps just to take the alternative path. Sighing, you move to turn around when four men in balaclavas entered the alley, running like their life depended on it. Fuck.

“You think we lost em?” One of them, still looking back, asks. He turns to face you, and you stare at each other awkwardly.

“Scream and we put a bullet through you.” Another one hisses, raising his gun to point at you. Your heart thumps against your chest as you silently raise your hands, nodding.

They don’t separate as they each point their gun at you, slowly moving around you. They keep their eyes trained on you, and you aren't entirely sure which one to look at. They eventually made their way around you, and you were stuck in this awkward stalemate. They don't move to lower their guns.

“We can’t just let her go! She’s gonna run out and yell for someone!” One of them whispers to his friend.

“So what're we gonna do?” He whispers back.

“We can kill her?” Another one suggests. Please no. You bite your tongue to keep from saying something stupid.

“No, no, bad idea. The Bat will be on our ass if we leave a body behind.” A different one responds.

“So what? We just knock her out?” One of them gestures to you with his gun.

“Probably the best idea. We’re taking too long to debate this, somebody knock her out.” The one next to him points to you. You let out a sigh of relief, at least they won’t kill you. Maybe you can get away with just pretending to get knocked out and waiting for them to leave?

“Alright, I can do it.” One of them approaches you and raises the butt of his gun. He’s about to strike down, when he is flung against the wall, startling all of you.

“Who the hell?!” A thug cries out, raising his gun, finger twitching on the trigger. You instinctively cover your head and hunch over as he swings his gun to point to you. Once you realize he’s not aiming for you, you turn your gaze from the ground up to your savior.

Red Robin? Huh, what are the chances?

You watch as he effortlessly disarms the goons before sweeping two of them off their feet. Red Robin rushes to pin them back down, but one of them uses the opportunity to strike the vigilante just above the eye with the butt of his gun. You wince, hissing in sympathy. Red Robin barely reacts, instead giving them a quick strike to the head, silencing their yells.

You feel yourself relax as you watch Red Robin turn his head to the remaining thug. He’s attempting to run away, and Red Robin pulls out a grappling hook before launching it and yanking the guy back. “Please man! Let me go!”

“Not a chance.” Red Robin replies dryly before knocking him out, similar to the guys before. With all the threats neutralized, he turns to face you for the first time. Instinctively, you stand up straighter.

“Are you okay?” He asks, shifting on his feet under your gaze.

Huh, you didn’t expect him to sound like that. You weren’t sure what you expected, the voice modulation wasn't a surprise, but his tone is somewhat discernable. You had expected something similar to the grittiness of Batman or even the charismatic confidence of Nightwing.

If anything, you’d say Red Robin sounds just as awkward as you feel right now.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You nod, “Thanks.” You smile at him.

He returns the nod, “Yeah, of course.” He nods at you, and you smile at him. For a beat, neither of you say anything.

Well, this is going great.

“He didn't hit you too hard, right?” You break the silence, and Red Robin gives you a questioning frown. You gesture up to your own forehead, around the area you saw him get hit.

“Oh, that,” he mirrors your action, offering a small smile. “Nothing I can't handle, barely even noticed it.” He waves off your concern.

You nod, accepting that answer. “Were you the one who was chasing those guys?” You ask, and you want to smack yourself for the stupid question. Obviously he was the one chasing them.

“Hm? Oh,” he blinks down at the unconscious thugs, “yeah that was me.” He confirms. “They mention me?”

“Not by name. They just said they were being chased.” You watch as he grabs a bag off one of the thugs.

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, “yeah that was me.” He’s not really facing you, but you can tell he’s smiling.

You purse your lips, unsure how to proceed with the conversation. Do you just leave? As you look over the scene, you notice something glint out of the corner of your eyes. You turn to Red Robin, but he isn’t looking at you. Hesitantly you approach the object, and you crouch down to look at it. It’s one of those Bat-shaped objects that the Bats carry on them.

Carefully, as if it's fragile, you pick it up. You’re surprised at first. It’s heavier than you expected, but you suppose that makes sense. To be able to do damage, it’d have to have some weight for something so small.

“You want to keep it?”

You jump as Red Robin’s voice suddenly appears right next to you. He raises his hands up, and gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No worries.” You offer him a small smile before returning your gaze to the object. “Don’t you guys need these things?” You wave it up.

He shrugs, and the action is so normal that you want to laugh. “Batarangs?” Huh, that’s what they’re called. He waves a casual hand at you, “We have plenty. Plus, we lose them all the time. You can keep it.”

Your mouth parts, and you’re about to open your mouth when he adds on. “Consider it a souvenir.” He grins looking down for a second before reaching to rub his back, meeting your eyes again as he massages himself. You watch as his eyes flicker over your form, looking up and down.

You freeze.

Not because of the Batarang, but because of the actions.

He chuckles at your appalled expression. “I mean you don’t—” he abruptly stops speaking before letting out a deep sigh.

His sigh only causes your jaw to drop even more, yet he doesn’t notice. He mouths a quiet “Sorry” before turning away from you, speaking to whoever is calling him.

You aren’t sure what he is talking about or even who he is talking to, but you’re hit with what may be the most insane conclusion you’ve ever reached (even more insane than Tim attempting to catfish you).

You steel yourself before turning your full attention to Red Robin. He’s restless, shifting on his feet in a way that tells you that he’d rather be pacing at the moment.

There’s no way your hypothesis is correct.

Red Robin sighs again, and you see him place his hands over his mask. You narrow your eyes at the action.

It’d make sense though.

You’re willing to chalk up a few shared mannerisms to just basic human traits. A couple makes sense, that’s normal. Now if you add the fact that Tim has been the best photographer for the vigilantes you’ve ever seen?

That’s a little more suspicious.

Then if you add on the fact that he has confirmed that he’s conversed with Robin in the past?

Your eyes are locked onto Red Robin, and he must feel your piercing gaze because he turns towards you. He seems to be taken aback by your blatant staring, but you can’t even help yourself because how else do you process this? He tilts his head, and you offer a strained smile in apology before averting your gaze.

The reason he couldn’t post the photos was because the vigilantes asked him not to.

The reason he could take the photos wasn’t because he had insane luck.

You watch as Red Robin shifts on his feet once again, before tilting his head up to the sky in an exasperated motion. The action uncannily familiar.

Holy shit.

You don’t a chance to process the revelation because the reason Red Robin was looking up quickly becomes evident. You jump back as Nightwing lands casually behind Red Robin and in front of you.

He turns to face you and for a moment he looks startled by your presence before he smirks. “Ahhh, I get it now.” Nightwing grins as Red Robin slowly turns to face him. “Real important stuff to handle, huh?”

“Can you not—” You watch as Red Robin furtively glances between you and Nightwing. “I did handle stuff.” He gestures down to the unconscious bodies below, "As you can see.”

Nightwing nods, “Yuh-huh,” he places his hands on his hips as he turns around to look at the entire scene. “I’m sorry, Miss. Is this guy bothering you?” Nightwing gives you a shit-eating grin, and yup.

If you didn’t know that Red Robin is Tim before, you certainly know now. Dick looks nearly the exact same, and for a moment you ponder how people have never connected him with Nightwing, especially with the devious grin he is giving you now.

“I am not bothering her! I just sav—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Nightwing raises his finger and shushes him softly, and you have to look away in order to avoid laughing. “Let her speak for herself.” Nightwing gestures to you in a slight bow.

Yeah, Tim. You snort as Red Robin takes a deep breath in order to calm himself. You offer a small grin to Red Robin, and he keeps his gaze trained on you, “He wasn’t a bother. He saved me from these guys. In fact—” you raise the Batarang up, “—he gave me a souvenir.” You grin at Dick.

He lets out a surprised bark of laughter before turning to Tim, who refuses to look at either of you. You think you can hear Tim mutter “Oh my God.”

“Aw, givin' out gifts to civilians now?” Dick teases Tim.

Tim groans, and you think you can see him turning red. You feel a little bad for embarrassing him in front of his brothers, but this reaction makes it all worth it. “I’m leaving.” He declares before launching his grappling hook up to the railing at the roof above you. He gives you one last look, a minuscule nod, before leaving.

You and Dick watch as he leaves before he turns back to you. “You are actually okay though, right?” He reaches out to put his hands on your shoulders before stopping and awkwardly putting them down.

You smile at Dick, nodding. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

He nods, “Well, get home safely. I’ll handle these guys.” He gestures his thumb down to the thugs on the ground. As if on cue, one of them begins to groan as they wake up. “You might wanna stay down, bud.” He gives you one last glance before winking and turning back to the thugs on the ground.

You watch him for a moment before walking out of the alley and waving down a taxi. You tell him your apartment complex, and look out the window. You rest your head on the window as you watch Gotham pass by you. You feel yourself truly relax for the first time in an hour before immediately stiffening.

How the hell are you going to tell Tim?

The day of the dinner arrives sooner than you’d like.

You are no closer to figuring out how to tell Tim that you know. You debated just texting him, but quickly threw that suggestion in the trash. Bad idea, terrible idea.

You pace your living room back and forth, trying to calm yourself. It’s not even dinner you’re worried about. What if you act oddly? Tim will definitely figure it out if you are fidgeting every five seconds. You must act normally, that can’t be too difficult? Just don’t think about it. It’s not like Red Robin or even Nightwing will come up in conversation with his family, right? That’s not really a dinner table topic.

Yeah.

You’ll be fine.

Just act normal—

Tim: I’m here

You swallow as you grab your items, giving your apartment one last look over, before exiting. You find Tim waiting in the parking lot, and you make eye contact through the windshield. He raises a hand, giving you a small smile, his other hand is lazily tapping the steering wheel.

“Thank you again for doing this.” Tim smiles gratefully at you as you step into the passenger seat. You attempt to smile back at him. You observe the interior of his car.

Hm. Red. Interesting. Almost like Red Robin—

You chuckle, more out of nerves than any actual amusement, “Yeah, no problem."

He pauses, giving you a long look before laughing softly. “Don’t be nervous. It’s relatively painless, and Alfred is making your favorite.”

You smile at the thought, “How’d you convince him to do that?”

Tim smacks his lips, “Let’s just say that my dignity isn’t in tact anymore.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you didn’t have much of that?” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to give you a decidedly unimpressed expression. You return it with a smile, “I mean you practically had to beg me to show up with you—”

“Woah, okay.” His eyebrows shoot up, “First off, that wasn’t begging—”

You pull out your phone, “— ‘I'd literally get on my knees and beg if I could’” You recite his words to him, reading the text directly. When you look up, his face is a light red. You try and catch his eyes, but he is stubbornly refusing to meet your own, instead focusing on the road. “Sound familiar to you?”

He remains silent for a bit. “I— Uh— Well, no. I never heard that before.”

“Mhm, sure.” You lean your elbow against the side of the car, propping your face up. His eyes flicker over to you, and he somehow gets more red. He looks you up and down for a brief moment, and while Tim usually does that, you did notice that Red Robin also—

Nope. Do not think about your best friend’s alternate vigilante identity while in the car with him. Stay focused.

The remainder of the ride is filled with light banter, your teasing provides a reprieve from your thoughts. It’s not long before you both pull up. “Master Tim.” Alfred greets Tim before turning to you and greeting you in similar fashion. “A little birdie told me to put your favorite on the menu for tonight.” Alfred offers a small smile, and both you and Tim stiffen.

Oh. Bird puns.

Yeah, Alfred definitely knows.

“Aw, thank you, Alfred. I think the little birdie knew I wouldn’t have come otherwise.” You nudge Tim teasingly. For a moment, he doesn’t react and you wonder if he’s even breathing. “Right, birdie?” You lightly nudge Tim again.

“Yeah, uh— mhm?” You frown at the reaction. Tim shifts on his feet, and waves you off casually. “Sorry, just uh— dinner, you know? Got me stressed?”

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him slightly, “Right,” you turn back to Alfred, “Thanks again, Alfred.” You grin at him.

“My pleasure, Miss.” He inclines his head to you, “Now, if you’re ready to greet the others.” He turns around, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure you and Tim are following.

“Look who finally showed his face— Oh,” Steph abruptly cuts herself off.

“Hello to you too.” You respond dryly, taking a seat at the table.

Steph grins at you, “Hello!” She greet you before glaring at Tim. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Yep.” Tim replies dryly. He takes the seat across you, he offers you a small smirk.

“And you know we can’t do anything about it.” She huffs, shaking her head disapprovingly.

You nod solemnly, “I was informed that I was bait.”

Dick chokes on his water, “You told her that?”

“I did not tell her that.” Tim furrows his eyebrows at you, raising his hands in surrender. “She reached that conclusion on her own.”

“Is that all you told her?” Duke asks, raising an eyebrow. He looks between you both.

“Yes.” Tim nearly hisses, eyes wide as if saying “Not one more word.” He clears his throat, sparing you a quick glance, and releases a long sigh, “Is Bruce here, yet?”

“You’re attempts to change the topic at hand are futile.” Damian looks between you and Tim, evidently bored.

Dick frowns at Tim before sighing, “No… He had some last minute business to take care of. He’ll be a little late.”

“Perfect.” Tim abruptly stands up, and your mouth parts, taken aback. “It’s getting kind of hot in here. I think I need a minute. I— Uh— Do you wanna head up for a bit until Bruce shows up?” Tim turns to you.

You furrow your eyebrows, if he needs a minute, why is he asking you to come with him?

“Sure?” Tim is already walking around the long dining table, he raises his hand to gently guide you away from everybody before you get a chance to say anything else. “Isn’t this rude?” You whisper to him, his hand is still guiding your back.

“Not with them. That kind of rude doesn’t count.” Tim huffs, and you two begin the familiar trek to his room.

You release an amused huff, “For you. What if they think I’m rude or something?”

Tim spares a glance at you, as if the idea you presented is absurd. “They’ll just blame it on me.” He shrugs. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it later.” He rubs your shoulder casually, offering you a smile that tells you he’s used to this.

You furrow your eyebrows in concern, “If you say so…” You trail off, hesitant. He gestures for you to enter his room. The space is familiar. You’ve been here many times in the past. However, never had you known that Tim is Red Robin during those times. Your eyes survey the room in front of you. Nothing is different about it (why did you expect there to be anything different?). You slowly make your way over to his desk, a few pieces of scrap paper lay on it. Nothing incriminating. You frown looking over the contents of the paper.

Tim appears at your side, “You okay?” He asks, following your gaze to the paper.

You nod, turning to him, “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” You pace the room for a beat before planting yourself onto his bed, something you’ve done a million times before.

He looks you up and down, and you resist stiffening under his scrutiny. He must’ve found something because he frowns. He opens his mouth to say something, closes it, then slowly walks over to you. “I… Sorry, was asking you to come for dinner too much?” He sits down next to you, and his gaze falls down to your hand on his comforter.

You blink, looking off to the side before returning your attention to him. “No, no, it’s fine.” You shake your head, “It’s not something I haven’t done before.” You shrug, attempting to offer him a reassuring smile.

Tim’s frown doesn’t change. “You don’t actually have to do this if you don’t want to… I know I was kinda joking about needing you here, but if there’s something—”

“Tim, there’s nothing wrong. What gave you that impression?” You feel your heart race. Does he know that you know?

He meets your eyes, your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and his eyes trail down to your shoulders. “I… You just seem—” his eyes look off at something off to the side, “—distracted, is all.” Your lips part, and his gaze returns to you. “You don’t have to say anything. This isn’t me trying to pressure you into telling me if something is up.” He rambles, shaking his head.

You heave a sigh, “It’s— I don’t think you want to know, Tim.”

Perhaps that’s the wrong thing to say to a detective because Tim— despite his attempts to be sympathetic— also has that spark of curiosity in his eyes. He trains his eyes on you, as if expecting to you to continue. When you don’t, he hesitantly responds: “If— and again, this is not me pressuring you— If it helps you get something off your chest, then I will always be here to listen.”

You swallow, looking toward Tim, “That’s… Thanks, Tim. I really appreciate that.” He nods, offering you a smile, and slowly inching his hand closer to yours. You pretend not to notice. “Are you sure you want to hear what I want to say?” You whisper softly to him, smiling nervously.

He blinks, “If that’s what you wish,” he changes his focus from your hand to your face, “then yes.” He gives you a disarming smile.

Your smile grows, “This is your last chance, Tim.”

His eyes lighten up, “Well,” he chuckles, “I’m not planning on changing my mind.”

You smile, leaning closer, and Tim mirrors the action whether he knows it or not. His chest rises and falls, slow, and you look into his eyes. The blue diminishing by the second as its replaced by the growing size of his pupil.

“Do you remember the other night?” You keep the same quiet tone, the words are meant for him— and him alone.

Tim’s eyebrows raise, evidently not expecting that, “What?” His words are breathless, but still ring of confusion.

“I just… I appreciate you helping me out.” You smile at him, watching as he processes the information.

“Yeah…” He slowly nods, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, that… It’s no issue it all. I…” He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes are turned away from you. His eyes gloss over the ground. He must remember that you’re watching because he suddenly turns to look at you tight-lipped smile. “Yeah...” he trails off, “Could you remind me exactly what I helped you with?”

You chuckle at his attempts to play it off— and failing. “Oh, come on, Tim.” You tilt your head at him, “You remember. You gave me the souvenir.”

You can see the exact moment his soul leaves his body.

He doesn’t instantly react. Instead he stares at you (or, more accurately, through you) unblinking. At his lack of a functioning reaction, you worry that maybe this wasn’t the best idea to go about this. After all you still have to sit through dinner after this. You aren’t even sure if he’s breathing when his smile strains in a way that almost looks painful.

“What?” His voice is quiet, as if incapable of mustering up any more volume.

Your purse your lips, taking a deep breath. You don’t get a chance to respond because he continues. “I… I haven’t given you anything— I think I’d remember if I gave you a souvenir.” He laughs, slightly hysterical. “You might be thinking of somebody else?”

You sigh, slowly reaching your hand up to his chin. Tim immediately stiffens at the contact, as if afraid him moving would deter you. A small smirk grows on your face when you realize how red Tim is at your touch. Gently, you move a few strands of hair out of his face, and he doesn’t stop you. They were covering up a specific spot, and while it appears Tim did try to cover up the bruise he received from the other night, he did not do a clean enough job.

“That’s,” he swallows, “That’s uh— I fell off my skateboard.” He doesn’t attempt to move your hands away from his face.

“Mhm,” you hum disbelievingly, “in the same spot Red Robin got hit, right? You two skateboard together?” You tease lightly.

“Well, I—” he clears his throat, leaning away from you, and you don’t try to stop him. “I… think?” He presses his hands onto his face, shielding his face from your view.

You frown, amusement evident in your tone. “You don’t know?”

He shifts his hands slightly, peaking through his fingers to look at you on his side. “I… You know, maybe you were right that I didn’t want to know.”

You let out an startled puff of air, “Oh,” you begin slowly, “now you heed my warnings?”

He avoids your eyes, smacking his lips. “Okay, fine, but how did you figure it out?” He asks, resting elbow on his knee. He props his head up, rubbing his forehead as if to remove tension.

“You share mannerisms with Red Robin.” He squeezes his eyes shut at the mention of his alter ego.

His jaw drops. “There’s no way you figured me out just because I acted kinda similar. I had a voice modulator!” He whisper-yells.

You nod, “Well, yeah, initially it was just suspicion. Then Dick showed up.” You watch as Tim mouths the words “Oh my God.” You smile sympathetically at Tim, “Yeah, I don’t know how anybody who looks at Nightwing for longer than a minute doesn’t put two and two together.”

“So what you’re saying is that it’s Dick’s fault.” Tim furrows his eyebrows at you. His hands aren’t covering his face anymore.

You frown, “You sent me photos of yourself.” Tim instantly gives you a look of horror, and you watch as he begins to turn red again. “Uh— I mean you were posing for the camera as Red Robin.” You elaborate, and Tim looks no less embarrassed.

“Okay,” he holds a finger up, adjusting his position on the bed next to you. “I did not pose for the camera. I just took a photo of whatever I was doing at the moment.” He grumbles.

You nod, “Modeling, apparently.” You quietly respond, at his glare you smile back at him. “I kept the Batarang by the way. It’s sitting in my room.” His glare softens at that, and he looks at you for a beat before flopping onto his back. The action causes the bed to jostle a little bit. You follow suit, turning to face him. “I wasn’t gonna tell anybody, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He turns to face you, and the two of you are inches apart, “That wasn’t my worry. It never was.” He whispers back.

You use your arm as a pillow as he continues to stare at you, “Then what is?”

He doesn’t immediately respond, but when he does his words are soft. “I didn’t want you involved in this.” He begins. “I… I don’t want you getting hurt because you know me.”

You let out a long exhale, “Tim,” you start, reaching for his hand, “if I didn’t want to be involved, I would’ve stopped the moment you started ‘chasing after vigilantes’ for photos.” You chuckle as he sheepishly looks away at the mention of his escapades. “I like being around you, Tim. That doesn’t change just because you go out as Red Robin every night.”

He swallows, squeezing your hand, “I… I like you—” He hastily cuts himself off, “—I like being around you too.” He smiles at you, and you feel better seeing that familiar spark in his eyes. “I… You’re not mad or anything right?”

You furrow your eyebrows, “That you like me?”

Instantly, that spark is replaced by pure unadulterated horror. He sits, startling you, “No! I meant the—” at your laughter, the tension leaves his body, and he releases a soft puff of air before slowly settling next to you again. “You know what I meant.” He scoffs, but it appears more endearing than anything.

You chuckle, smiling at him, “I’m not upset, Tim. If anything it makes sense. I was wondering how you always had such clear photos of the vigilantes. Oh— Terrible way to hide your identity by the way, going around and taking selfies of yourself.” You watch as he lightly glares at you before settling down closer than he was before. “And your terrible sleeping schedule makes sense now.”

He smacks his lips, “Okay, but I have an excuse. You—” he lightly points an accusing finger at you, “— do not.”

You grin, grabbing his hand, pressing it against the soft mattress of his bed. You adjust your position, ready to defend yourself, “Oh, really—”

“Father is here. He requests your presence—” Both you and Tim jolt as if caught doing something illegal before turning to look at Damian. To nobody’s surprise, he looks wildly unimpressed (and perhaps a little disgusted) by you both.

“Damian, can’t you knock?” Tim groans, brushing off imaginary dust off himself.

Damian’s eyes linger on your hand laid casually over Tim’s. Slowly, you remove it, and Tim frowns down at his lone hand. “I did knock. I took your lack of response as permission for entry.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works… like at all.” Tim stands up, and you follow suit.

Damian eyes you both accusingly then huffs. He whips around before shutting the door behind him, leaving you and Tim there standing awkwardly.

“We… We better get down there. He’s going to tell everybody.” Tim looks over to you, eyebrows creased in worry imagining what might be conversed at the dinner table. You nod solemnly, that would not be ideal.

“Lead the way, Birdie.” You walk up to his side, and Tim freezes at the nickname. You release a loud laugh at the reaction.

“You’re lucky I don’t have time to address that.” He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s a smirk on his face.

“Aw, I knew you like me.” You grin, nudging your hand against his own.

He lets out a long sigh, and his smile turns soft. “Yeah,” he swallows, “I do.” He clasps your arm, and you give him a blinding grin.

A/N: Maybe I should just start up a collection of “civilian reader scaring the shit out of her boyfriend after figuring out he’s a vigilante but being unsure how to tell him so she goes about it in the most stressful way possible for him.” We’re going 2 for 2 and I absolutely LOVE this trope. Anyway, sorry this took a while! I have one more final then I’m FREE! I absolutely LOVED this idea, and I really hope I did it justice. Online friend!Tim Drake has so much potential and it’s definitely an idea I wouldn’t mind revisiting in the future. As always, feel free to let me know about any major errors :)! Funny thing, I actually had to write some small headcannons for myself of some random traits I think Tim would have so that Reader could inevitably realize Tim = Red Robin. If you guys wanna see that let me know, they aren’t very long, but you might notice a few things if you go back and reread it :)!

Tim Drake Taglist: @sebstancevanss @gaychaosgremlin @koibleufish DC Taglist: @fruitmanstyles @libbi5001 @sskwul @rin-l @newangelle @sweetpeadc @meep-merp124 @noba-noba @cassiecasluciluce @duskeras @Serenelyserenex @Vetej05 @Starmylife4ever @snoopyluvrrr @melancholiccow @libbi5001 @iwachansupremacy @sydbeeri @unclearblur @whoreforfictionalmen18 @unclearblur @sparkyvibes @gglouise23 @bloomfaery @sparkyvibes @recenzjaara @vanillakirstein @verycitruss General Taglist: @thefallingvines @Irene32 @average-mitski-fan @r-4-y-v-3-n @code-ghost-cc @wisefuncherryblossom @noble-17 @akanu819 @lyuuu88 @lizbix @panicked-sapphic @Shark01 @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12 @rainbowstar Want to be added to one of my taglists? Fill out the form here or leave a comment asking to be added under my DC Masterlist post :)!

[papayafromtv]

goodie two-shoes newly adopted jason todd is one of the funniest fucking things to come out of the batfamily fandom, actually. y’all remember that episode of the office us where dwight gets fired and the day afterwards micheal is all sad like ‘why haven’t the cleaning ladies arranged the toys in my office and watered my plants?’ and everybody tells him ‘no dwight used to do that.’ ? in the funniest way possible i want this to be bruce and jason.

jason todd who was such a sweet eager-to-please kid. he literally adored bruce for taking him in and letting him be robin, so he was doing literally anything he could think of to make his adoption worthwhile to bruce. being the model student at school, keeping his room immaculately clean, training as much as he could--the enthusiasm was genuinely baffling to bruce, who up until that point had only ever dealt with dick motherfucking grayson as a child under his care. at first he thought something was wrong with jason, or that he was covering something up. alfred had to pull him aside after a few months just like 'no he's genuinely this much of a people pleaser, master bruce. this isn't an act'. they had no idea what to do with this kid.

bruce doesn't even know most of the stuff jason does, he just assumes these little things Happen to Happen, and doesn't consider that it isn't alfred or that it might not be a coincidence. he counts himself lucky that jason is a well behaved kid and doesn't look too far into the details of how far that behaviour goes. so through the years after jason's death, bruce is genuinely just... fucking baffled.

"alfred, why did you stop making those little smoothie pots and leaving them in the fridge for my breakfasts? i really liked them, but you never have them anymore."

"...what smoothie pots?"

"the ones you always left in the door of the fridge for me, with the post-it notes telling me to have a good morning."

"i have never made you a smoothie pot, master bruce. i fear this was another of jason's little habits."

"...shit."

"indeed."

"so you don't know how to make these smoothie pots?"

like- i want jason to have literally been doing the most random fucking stuff you can think of. he was organising bruce's sock drawer, watering the plants in the downstairs bathroom, stapling together all the WE files in bruce's office so that bruce wouldn't misplace any of them. he was going above and beyond to make bruce's life as easy as possible in any way he could think of for YEARS, and he did it all so quietly that bruce never noticed until jason wasn't around anymore and all of a sudden his life was real fuckin' inconvenient and he had no idea why.

i just think it would be funny if red hood does a big identity reveal in front of all the bats and bruce just instantly bursts into tears in jason's arms weeping about how 'alfred let the fern die and they had to buy a new mop bucket because nobody knew where jason had stored it last' and jason is just. very confused holding a sobbing batman because he genuinely forgot that he used to do any of that stuff. meanwhile dick's in the background next to tim and he's just like 'so were you the one that organised the west attic? 'cause tim thinks it was the spirit of thomas wayne and we've been arguing about it for six months.'

bonus points if the league of assassins comes into it because at some point talia comes to visit damian and her and bruce get to chatting about jason, and bruce gets all teary and fond as he waxes poetic about how amazing and helpful jason was as a kid living around the manor, all the stuff he used to do, and then he turns to talia to ask what he was like living with her and she looks at him with the eyes of a long-dead veteran to tell him 'within his first two months he'd blown up two watchtowers, taught damian to call us all slurs in six different languages, and shaved a strip of my father's hair off while he was asleep. over his time with us he has personally contributed to the creation of ninety-three new rules around the compound, and the day before he left for gotham i personally watched him set fire to one of our helicopters.' and then there's just a really awkward period of silence because bruce has no idea what to say to that because HIS time with jason was fuckin great.

[aeturnum-mendacacium]

Ugh scenarios where Bruce is literally suicidal, and has made many attempts, but keeps getting interrupted by his kids and alfred but they don't realise what he was going to do?and they don't know his mental state was that bad?? Sign me up cause I fucking love angst and hurt/comfort

13 yr old Bruce about to slit his throat in the bathroom, but alfred comes out of nowhere and tells him dinner is ready, he made his favourite cause he saw he looked off recently, and Bruce just goes out calmly and hugs him super tight?? Bruce, about to make a decision to end his life after he's all done raising dick (after he becomes nightwing) and knows that dick is set on the right path now and going to crime alley where his parents were shot to end it but ends up meeting jason instead?? After jason when he tied up all loose ends, closed cases, secured gotham good enough, About to go on patrol for one last time, then after he'll jump off, but then meets tim that evening saying he knows who he is?? Meeting cass just when he was planning to do it cause he genuinely hated himself, but seeing so many similarities between him and cass, knowing she sees them too and scared that after he suicides she'll get those ideas too cause they're so similar? Decides to try to help her?? Meeting nightwing when he was going to jump off cause dick wanted to surprise him from blud and he just thought Bruce was brooding?? getting a call from Damain in the middle of the day when he was about to stage a car crash and listens as damian (mad at him) asks him to come to the school to pick him up cause he got suspended for 2 days for knocking out a student for being racist.

CAN U IMAGINE A CONFRONTATION WHERE BRUCE THOUGHT THEY ALREADY KNEW?? AND HES TAKING THIS CASUAL BUT THEYRE FUCKING NOT??

[quixoticacerleaf]

Way Back to Now pt. 2

Summary: After learning some news about Jason, you decide to take a visit to your old home down in

Word Count: 3790

Warnings: This is my first time posting a fanfic, so beware my naivete when it comes to anything outside writing. I'm trying my best (´-ε-｀)

But other than that, please enjoy ＼(T▽T)／!!!

Part 1

⟡🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁⟡

cCranberryjelly: Jason Todd’s alive!!!

Your eyes scan the message again, and you feel... Unimpressed. You could almost say you feel bummed out. This wouldn’t be the first time that rumors revolving around Jason’s death being a hoax, publicity stunt, what have you, had sprung up and circulated Gotham forums and its other various communities like wildfire. You couldn’t exactly blame everyone for believing such things. At first, you yourself didn’t wanna believe that the loud, headstrong boy from your youth had been taken away so tragically at such a young age. But that had been years ago. The people were given plenty of time to cope and move on. They had no right to stay so attached after so long; you couldn’t even imagine how it must have felt for Jason’s close family and friends to see rumors of his death being a fake. The words leave a feeling of astringency in the pit of your stomach, and you move to ban the chatter, just for another message saying the same thing to pop up. Then that one is followed by another, and then another, and another, and another.

Soon, your entire chat is a wall of “Jason Todd is alive,” and you can’t help the sour expression that flashes across your face.

“What on earth are you guys talking about?”

You half-mumbled the sentence, already preoccupied, trying to find whatever grainy clip had gone viral this week that led to such a large surge in “JasonsAlive truthers.”

Your fingers glide across your keyboard as your eyes stare almost bored at your screen. You press enter and place your hand over the mouse to start scrolling through the first couple of videos, expecting to see only those crappy conspiracy theorists with the TikTok green screen effect. But what you find instead blindsides you, and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

The thumbnail is a photo of Gotham's one and only Bruce Wayne in a tailored suit, standing right next to a man. He was just a bit shorter than Wayne and had a muscular body. There was a white streak in the bangs of the man's black hair that had likely been combed back neatly just moments ago, but now lay a little messy, as if a hand had been brushing through it.

Was he supposed to be Jason Todd? You could almost laugh. You almost did. Because how does the stick of a boy that you used to know become the man that you’re seeing now? 

You mindlessly click on the video and quickly pop in an earpiece.

At first, there’s nothing but reporters talking over one another. Nothing could be made out. Eventually, with what looked like reluctance, the man beside Wayne pointed to a reporter in the front row, prompting everyone else to quickly close their mouths as she stood up and spoke aloud.

“Mr Todd, how exactly are you back after 9 years presumed dead?”

The man nodded silently, clearly processing the reporter's question and deciding on the best way to respond. A beat passed before he leaned closer to the mic.

“It’s a bit complicated to explain.”

He spoke a little slow, and in a deeper voice than you had expected, making you imperceptibly flinch. But the accent and cadence in his voice you recognized, even after all these years, as undeniably Jason’s.

“But in short, I was kidnapped, and a fake body was presented to Bruce. The goal was to use me later as leverage to get money and control over Gotham.”

He hesitated again before continuing.

“Clearly that didn’t work.”

He flashed a quick smirk that had its own awkward sort of charm to it before straightening up. The moment he did, the voices of hundreds around him rose in a roar. You couldn’t help but feel a small spark of amusement at how constipated he looked. He certainly didn’t want to be there.

“How do we know you’re really Jason Todd?”

The question raises your interest. You hadn’t expected anyone to actually address the elephant that was stomping around the room like a maniac. This man could talk like Jason all he wanted, dress like how he would, eat his favorite foods, but it didn’t matter. He himself could just be an imposter. You couldn’t imagine that Wayne would purposely do such a thing with a sound mind. Still, you doubted, and you sat eagerly waiting for any piece of proof that the man could bring forward.

This time, instead of the man, Wayne had leaned forward to answer the question.

“I can assure you, he is my son. I would never have presented him if I wasn’t sure beyond a shadow of a doubt of his identity. We have had blood tests done and compared a multitude of other medical records. They all show as 100 percent matches.”

The video reaches the end and starts to replay itself. Your chest feels a little tight, and your eyes mist over a bit as you stare at this “new” Jason Todd on camera. Your mind swims at the possibility that it’s genuinely him, and you sit still for a minute before remembering that you were still live on stream.

Clearing your throat, you talk to your chat in an albeit forced, casual, cheeky voice. Your posture straightens as you lean back into your seat, rolling your shoulders with a shrug.

“I don’t know chat. That’s um… Wow.”

The loss of words is unexpected. You knew what you were going to say. The point is to leave your opinion ambiguous. It’s the safest option for your persona. But you can’t honestly find it in your heart to even do that. How could you? You’d resigned yourself to the reality that your old friend had died. You remember how hard you cried the night you found out. The three years he’d been away had done nothing to wane your affections for him.

But now, you’re just supposed to accept that he’s back and had in fact never been dead? No thanks.

“I don’t believe it. And that’s all we’ll be saying on the topic.”

Your expression fell flat as you spoke, and your voice was almost stern. You wouldn’t be entertaining this mess. You’re sure it would come to light soon that this too was just a hoax, and that the man Bruce Wayne had welcomed back into his home was simply manipulating the strings of grief tied to his heart. You felt pity for the billionaire if you were being honest. But you wouldn’t let yourself be one of the people let down when the news eventually broke.

Your chat didn’t take to the topic change as smoothly as you would have liked. A lot of the people who showed up initially had left, seeing as you weren’t giving them the content that they wanted. And people who would join midway through would bring up the unknowingly sore topic. Still, for the most part your stream was okay. But any regular viewers could see that your energy had been off. This was further reinforced by the length of your stream. You ended it pretty early at about the hour-and-a-half mark.

⟡🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁⟡🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁⟡

Once you’re sure that the stream has ended and you are no longer vulnerable to prying eyes, you allow yourself to shrink. Your eyes almost immediately burn with unshed tears, and you rub your eyes with frustration. 

This was stupid. 

You felt stupid. 

And, maybe you were.

Jason had left his abandoned home in Crime Alley at the age of 12. You were 11 at the time, and now you’re 23, turning 24. A whole 12 years had passed since then; you’d think that any new news that came to the forefront of the media's attention would slip off you like water on a duck's back. Any normal person would have gotten over such a tiny childhood crush by now. Yet here you were, on the verge of tears in your room because the boy you liked when you were a kid may or may not be alive. 

What a joke.

You eventually stood up from your chair, beyond exasperated with yourself and your illogical emotions. You wanted to get out of your room. Needed to, actually. But where would you go? Anywhere you went, you would normally have people you were acquainted with who’d almost certainly heard about the news themselves, and you did not have the energy to put up with that. Just the idea of talking to people left a preemptive fatigue in your body.

Pacing around your room, an old picture catches your attention.

It was a photo of you as a child with your parents at your old house in Park Row, celebrating your 6th birthday.

You walk over to the photo, a small smile on your face as you lift the frame. Despite everything, they did their best to make you as happy as they could. The loneliness you felt while they were away at work in the afternoons and evenings was never permanent. By the end of the night, you were snug between them on the old queen-sized mattress, warm, safe, and loved.

Well, you had said that you wanted to stop by again and see how everything was there. The walk would be a good way to clear your head, too. 

⟡🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁⟡🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁⟡

The walk to your old home was nice. The weather in Gotham, although gloomy, rarely has bad walking weather. Even when the clouds do give in on themselves, and rain comes pouring down, you can’t say that you would be all that deterred. That’s one of Gotham’s pros, you suppose. You make a mental note to bring it up during your next social media appearance, whenever that’d be. The burst of notifications telling you users had tagged you in videos or other various posts was enough to get you to steer clear of the internet for the next few days…

Maybe weeks. You hadn’t decided yet.

Your train of thought halted as you realized that you had made it to the outskirts of your destination.

It looked exactly as you remembered it. You didn't expect there to be any drastic change by any means. But it was almost shocking how stagnant at least this little area of the district had remained, even after all these years. There were still kids hanging out on the porch steps of different buildings. The same shops and businesses were still open. Hell, even Ma Gunn’s old “school” building was still up. The letter on the front of the building being only a smidge more faded than you last remembered.

Well, okay, maybe that observation wasn’t exactly true. Park Row did feel a bit different. You didn’t know how to explain it, but there was definitely some invisible change that had occurred.

You didn’t focus on that fact for long, though, as you passed by a small restaurant that you and your friends used to sit in all the time.

Di N’ Dee’s

It was a mom-and-pop diner that you’d swear to your last breath had the most delicious pancakes you’d ever had in your life. After you had them that first time, you didn’t stop craving them for years. It was like they’d baked crack into the fluffy circles of delight. Well, that was actually a very real possibility. But what did you care? Pancakes sounded great right now, crack or no crack.

The door opened with a sad-sounding bell to announce the activity, and all eyes for the briefest second turned to you. You felt a bit self-conscious, suddenly all too aware of your appearance that you hadn’t bothered to actually check before leaving the house, and gave a silent prayer that you didn’t look too crazy.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes flick over to behind the counter, where you find the source of the dulcet voice standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“DeeDee!”

A wide smile grew on your face as you almost immediately recognized one of the founding owners of the diner. DeeDee was a sweet old woman who’d often feed you and your friends in exchange for some manual labor around the diner, much to her best friend's chagrin. Di, or Didine, as all the kids in the neighborhood called her for whatever reason, was the other owner of the diner. She wasn’t mean exactly; she was kind in her own right. But she definitely wasn’t as welcoming as DeeDee ever was, and wasn’t fond of giving “free handouts” to you and your friends. Often shooing y’all out very abruptly, yelling about curfews and homework.

You hardly manage to get to the counter before DeeDee makes her way from behind it and crushes you in a tight hug. Her strength was something else, even at her age. It was honestly impressive, if not mildly concerning.

Ignoring the popping in your back, you lift your arms to return the hug, with merely a fraction of the power DeeDee used, but the fond affection behind it was still there with just as much power.

After a moment more, the two of you release each other and back away. Dee looks to be on the verge of tears and takes off her glasses to wipe at her eye. The sight makes something in your chest tighten just a smidge.

“DeeDee, how’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know. Same ol same ol.”

“You still running the diner off of Unpaid labor?”

You looked around with an amused eyebrow quirked up. The sight of a group of children no older than 10 or 11 catches your eye, and you get the answer to your question. There’d be no other explanation for a group of 5 kids to be sitting half asleep at a table with untouched slices of DeeDee’s apple pie in front of them, if not for the slices being earned through grueling manual labor.

“Oh, stop. They’re not unpaid.”

DeeDee lightly slaps your arm in jest as she turns around to walk back behind the counter. You hum in half-hearted agreement as you make your way to the bar stool closest to the cash register.

“Okay, maybe not unpaid. But definitely swindled.”

DeeDee doesn’t even attempt to deny the accusation this time around, and instead innocently shrugs her shoulders with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“The little lads need something productive to do anyway. But enough about me. Go on and tell me your order, and feel free to add what you’ve been up to the last few years while you’re at it.”

You nod your head and look up at the menu despite already knowing what you were going to get.

“Could I get two pancakes with some sausage? Go ahead and throw in one of your hash browns, too. Oh! And a nice fat slice of your peach cobbler.”

Was it already 5:40 in the afternoon? Yes. It was. Did you care though? Absolutely not. Besides, you were an adult, with adult money to spend on whatever adult things you wanted. And who was going to stop you?

“Breakfast for dinner I see?”

You shrug your shoulders, finding no shame in your order.

“I haven’t been here in ages Dee. And your pancakes are my favorite.”

The little old lady in front of you chuckles and pats your hand as she walks away to give your order to the kitchen staff, before returning to her spot in front of you. She gave you an expectant look as she stood before you, and you didn’t resist the breaking of the dam as you retold to her all of the events of your life that had occurred over the last 12 years.

From moving from your little shabby house in Crime Alley, to your almost first kiss, to the budding journey of your social media career. You only took a few small breaks in your story to receive your food, slowly munching on it whenever she offered remarks, or when she had to tend to another customer.

By the time 8:20 had rolled around, you had told Dee damn near everything. Well. Almost everything. You hadn’t mentioned any of the things with Jason that had happened in the last two weeks. It felt embarrassing. And you figured it’d only put a damper on the mood. DeeDee loved everyone around her, especially the children of Park Row. She was like the community grandma. She knew all the little secrets about everyone and anyone. And while she hadn’t been particularly close to Jason, you knew she was more than likely reduced to sobs upon hearing the news of the boy’s death.

Still, even after 12 years apart, Dee could still read you like a kiddie's picture book.

“Is there anything else?”

She had a patient smile as she gently pushed for you to continue. The sound of soft scraping dragged your eyes away from hers as you saw her push a bowl of chocolate chips towards you. You smiled at the gesture. She used to do it to you all the time when you were 10 and struggling with the weight of some huge secret that had felt so big to you then.

“Maybe…”

You brought the bowl closer to you as you popped a chip in your mouth.

“It’s about Jason, I-”

You glanced up briefly at Dee’s face to watch her reaction.

“I don’t want to sour the mood or anything though…”

Dee’s face softened a bit more around the edges. There was a sadness in her black eyes that hadn't been there before. But her smile remained all the same, and she nodded, urging you to carry on. And you obliged with your gaze dropping again.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but, apparently, he’s… Not?”

Your brows furrowed at your words. It sounded wrong coming from your tongue. Like a lie. Bitter in taste and heavy in weight.

“The story is that he was kidnapped, and a fake body was produced to Wayne and his family. So what they buried wasn’t actually Jason, but a fake.”

Your fingers pinched around another chocolate chip to pop into your mouth, but the idea suddenly made everything in your stomach churn. Instead, you sat looking dumbly at the bowl, feeling as if it was what had caused your dampened mood and had done you a personal disservice.

“Well. That’s nice, ain’t it?”

Your eyes snapped back up to Dee’s face, and you could already see the tears threatening to roll down her face. Normally, you would have instinctively reached out to grab her hand in an act of comfort. But instead, you found that your head had tipped to the side in an involuntary motion of confusion.

“Nice?”

Dee nodded

“Yes. Nice. The poor boy. He’s certainly missed his family dearly during all this time. Can’t even imagine what he must have gone through.”

You didn’t say anything in response to that. The look of relief that had washed over Dee’s face was something that you couldn’t bear to taint with your own selfish doubts and troubles. Instead, you swallowed thickly and nodded to what she said.

“You must feel so relieved, Y/N.”

She grabbed your hand with a graceful smile.

“You’d taken quite a shine to him when you were younger. Eyes always wandering over to wherever he was. It was clear that he meant something different to you than all your other little friends did.”

You can’t help but find yourself flushing a bit at the statement.

“I didn’t realize it was so obvious.”

“Oh, come now. You didn’t think you was being slick back then, did you?”

“Well, I didn’t think I wasn’t.”

The two of you stare at each other in mild surprise before bursting out into laughter.

“Oh, Y/N baby, you were about as obvious as an elephant would be sitting here in the diner.”

You thought over your behavior from when you were a kid, and... Looking back on it now. Yes. You were that obvious. You’d always clung to his side, sure. But at some point, that went from being metaphorical to literal. All you ever talked about was him to some extent. Everything reminded you of him. It was a funny thought, until a mortifying realization dawned on you.

“Do you think he knew?”

Dee’s head shook out a no before you could even finish your sentence.

“The boy was oblivious to everything else going on. No offense to you, dear, but you and everyone else’s feelings and happenings were probably the last things on his mind.”

Your shoulders fell in relief at the affirmation. You think you’d die of embarrassment if Jason knew about your little crush. Even knowing that Dee knew about it way back then made you want to lay your head down in shame. And that’s exactly what you did, which consequently only caused Dee to laugh.

You pouted as you looked up at her before turning your head over to look away from her and out the window. The gray light that had filtered into the diner from outside was a lot darker than before, and you were suddenly hit with the realization that you’d have to be walking home. And the walk from here to your little apartment in Gotham was at least 40 minutes.

⟡🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁⟡🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁⟡

You gave one last wave over your shoulder before you turned round and started your walk home, a sigh escaping you as you walked out into the brisk Gotham evening. Saying your goodbyes to DeeDee had taken a lot longer than you had imagined. Though that was honestly your fault. DeeDee’s goodbyes were never short, even if Didine had been shooing you out.

The brisk Gotham air felt nice against your skin as you made your way up the street. It felt a little odd, seeing as your old house was in the opposite direction, so you’d never viewed this part of town before at this time of night like this. Now that you think about it, you never got the chance to actually go and see your old home. You’d spent all your time at DeeDee’s

…

Okay, maybe this was kind of a bad idea. Or really a bad idea. But you’ve walked these roads before. There’s no harm in making a quick stop by your old place and then coming back. You knew all the shortcuts around this part of town, 12 years passing be damned. Besides, you’d be back home only a few minutes after sunset, regardless of what you did, so what did a few more minutes matter?

[oh-my-sanity]

Within your light — my shadows fade away.

he’s a little smitten

[quixoticacerleaf]

I said I didn't know if I was gonna continue my little food-for-thought fic, but I immediately started writing a second chapter after posting the first one last night. So it looks like I am for now ల(´= ◡ =｀)

[owwllly]

gojo and his miiuse

[eunisyn]

"All this for lil ol' me?"

[sayurinn]

Itafushi… you’re so normal ❤️ (inspired by tweet under the cut!!)

[quixoticacerleaf]

Way Back to Now pt. 1

Summary: I was rewatching the Arkham Knight game and talking to myself as if I were a Gotham citizen and went, "What if there was a y/n fic where reader knew Jason Todd before he was adopted and finds out that he's alive again through a public announcement?" and made this. I'm honestly not sure how I feel about the way I've written this yet, but regardless, I hope y'all enjoy!

Word Count: 1888

(Also this is my first time writing an x Reader fic so please bear with me)

Part 2

⟡🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁⟡

“No- okay, listen guys,”

You’re cut off by the sound of your own laughter as you manage to read a few of the chat messages that whizz by. You’re a fairly well-known streamer, at least in the Gotham community, your popularity coming from your rants and complaints about the city itself. At present, you’re giving your personal rankings of the four Wayne boys: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne. No matter who you placed at the top of your list, you knew your chat would have exploded. But you didn’t expect that placing Jason at the top would be so… “controversial.”

“Yes, I know Dick Grayson has a nice ass chat. I don’t care. He was a nice kid and all, but it can’t be helped, he’s just not my favorite.”

You sit quietly for a second, smile still present on your face, as you read through the chat, scouring for the next interesting message.

MaryBerry: why jason tho? he wasn’t around for long iykyk lol

You couldn’t help the way your brow furrowed at the message and the many similar others that pierce through the other kinder ones, smile turning into something more incredulous than anything else.

“Well, that was a bit disrespectful, no?”

You let out a small tsk before continuing.

“You coulda asked a bit more tastefully, but to answer your question, Jason’s my favorite because I actually knew him before he got adopted.”

You shifted in your seat, feeling a bit uncomfortable with yourself for bringing up a topic that you weren’t as comfortable with breaching as you thought you would be. But you push on anyway.

“I know that everybody and their mothers claim to have known at least one of the boys before their eventual adoption, or uh, in Damian’s case introduction. But I actually did.”

You let out a scoff.

“Did you guys see that one lady who claimed to be Damian’s mother? She doesn’t even look remotely like him!”

You shake your head at the absurdity of the whole situation. You’d have to do a full reaction to it some other day.

“But anyways, yeah. I did actually know Jason. As some of you already know, I moved here to Gotham with my parents when I was about five years old or so? The price of living here was and is way cheaper than the place we had originally lived. Despite that, we were still dirt broke once we got here. Yeah, turns out moving across the country isn’t as cheap as my parents had originally envisioned it would be. I think we lived in an alright house in the suburbs for about, 3 months before we got evicted for not being able to make rent?”

You pause for a moment as you try to recall the timeline through your memory alone, but quickly give up with a shake of your head.

“I don’t know, I was five, so my memory of those details is fuzzy. But anyway, we thankfully ended up finding this shabby little place in Crime Alley for real cheap. It was then that my parents started really throwing themselves into work, trying to make enough money to get us up and out of there cause, I don’t know if you guys know this or not, but it’s not what most would call an ideal place to raise a child.”

You let out a small, airy chuckle at your own joke before continuing once again.

“But as a result of this surge in their motivation, I was left home alone a lot. They set me up with a couple of ground rules. Y’know: ‘stay quiet indoors,’ ‘don’t open the door for anybody,’ that whole thing. But I was five, and we were poor, so the TV almost never worked, and the few picture books I had were falling apart. I mean, I did have a few crayons to draw with some times, but what good is drawing when you can go out into the world and play with real kids? Well, at least that’s how I felt.”

You shrug.

“So one day, when the TV cut out again, instead of going to see if I had lost any crayons under the couch or maybe a pen somewhere around the house, I marched myself up to the door with one of the dining table chairs, undid the chain and bolts, and opened the door.”

You gave a self-assured nod alongside a “hmph” as you let yourself drop back into your seat with your arms crossed.

“Yeah. And then I felt so scared and guilty that I closed it right back.”

The chat was flooded with similar answers. A lot of “lol”s and “LMAO”s. A few people wrote exasperated sentences, clearly not interested in the you part of YOUR backstory. Okay, whatever.

“Okay, Jesus, now I know how interested in me. 

You laugh again before moving on for real.

“So the setup is done. I’m in Crime Alley, I don’t have adult supervision, and I do eventually make it outside. Unsurprisingly, there were lots of kids in similar predicaments to me, and we’d all play outside together. Jason just happened to be one of those kids. We’d all go running around playing tag and hide and seek. Exploring old buildings, getting yelled at by adults, catching dogs.”

You again shrug, trying to make the recollection of these memories seem to be more insignificant to you than it actually was. The wound of your friend's passing wasn’t fresh by any means, but your chest still ached with regret at the thought of all the time you could have shared with him had you been more confident and outspoken.

“If I’m being honest,  Jason was my best friend when I was a kid. All the way up to the day he was adopted.”

Grizmo8630: Why didnt you keep in contact then

“Well, I wasn’t exactly the most outgoing kid that there was. It’s part of the reason why I was so close to him back then. That and he was always really kind to me. To everyone else, too, of course, but I can't speak for them, so... When he was adopted, well, I just assumed he’d be too busy with his new life to remember me. I’d been a pretty annoying kid, always clinging to him. Seriously, if my parents weren’t at the house, I could almost guarantee you that I was probably wherever he was. I bet it was a weight off his back if anything. Literally.”

You laughed at the memory of your past self.

“I thought he was soo cool back then.”

You feel a little bashful as you continue to speak; you’ve never talked with anyone about your childhood friend, or more appropriately, your childhood crush, much less.. 7.9 thousand people?!

“He had a lot going on at what felt like all times. He always tried to act so tough. I honestly really admired him back then. I suppose I still do even now. But uh, anyways. My family moved not too long after he was taken in. So, even if he had gone back to Crime Alley to reconnect with the friends he had there, I wouldn’t know.”

YESmen95: oh so you LIKED him

You give a noncommittal shrug as you lean forward in your chair, suddenly more than willing to move on from the subject.

“I suppose you could say that. I was a kid and- bleh, whatever. Yeah, I liked him.”

Your face felt warm as you searched the chat for an easy segue onto a different topic, which thankfully happened pretty quickly, as someone had started talking about Red Hood, the vigilante who had appeared and now watched over your old home. You make a few comments on how you appreciate what he’s done for the area and how you’d like to stop by and see how things are now, since you hadn’t been there in quite some time. This allows you to easily segue into one of your well-known “Reasons I’m moving out of Gotham City” rants, which you’ve made for well over a year and a half now.

⟡🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁 ⟡ 🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁 ⟡ 🍁༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･🍁⟡

It’d been about a week since you had last pressed the Go Live button on any of your accounts. In part because you were genuinely busy doing things that pertained to your real life instead of your online one. But also because it was just a little too embarrassing right now. You hadn’t expected your little story to blow up so much online. Everything you said was true, so you didn’t feel ashamed because you were in an awkward position now or anything. No, you were embarrassed because the one clip out of the entire stream that the internet had decided to run with this week was the clip of you admitting to having the smallest, tiniest little crush on the second Wayne brother way back when. It’s not even like people were making fun of you(for the most part anyway), a lot of them had just been really sympathetic towards you. It made you feel gross, having a part of you kept buried away brought up to the light.

But you couldn’t stay offline forever. Streaming had become a large part of your income over the last year, so you needed to regularly make an appearance to keep up with everything.

You make your way to your desk with your metal water bottle. The thump of you placing it down is the only sound that precedes your computer coming to life. You're quick to make your usual rounds, checking your microphone, background music, webcam, and social tabs(you don’t wanna accidentally leak something about your life by accident).

The whole process only takes you about 3 minutes, and before you know it, your screen says “Live” in the corner, and you’re giving your usual intro. Normally, viewers are slow to filter in. It’s why the start of the stream is your favorite part. It’s just more personal that way. “Like a FaceTime call,” as many of your early bird chatters say. But today, almost 6k people were in the stream in an instant. The chat was already whizzing by, and you couldn’t help but stare in almost apprehensive confusion.

“Well, hey. I didn’t realize that so many of you had missed me so badly after just a week. I hope you’re all doing well.”

You smile as you start to see some chatters reply to you, though you’re still a little disappointed that you can’t talk one-on-one with a few chatters at the moment, you decide that you’d make do with what you have in front of you. 

Or well. You were going to. But the majority of the chat is washed out with messages of ‘have you heard the news?’ ‘i don’t think they have’ and other various messages with similar ominosity. 

“What are you guys talking about?”

You let out an awkward chuckle, mentally preparing yourself for the worst. Every online personality gets cancelled at least once in their life; whether the accusations are true or not varies. Anything that you may have done in your life starts to roll through your mind as your eyes scan the chat to distract yourself from the ever-growing pit in your stomach.

That’s when you see it. One message that sends you reeling.

cCranberryjelly: Jason Todd’s alive!!!

[ciearcab]

those summers with you

[scaramoutual]

modern au, or summ

[ciearcab]

unexpected rain