of waiting to be consumed by you
ridiculously attractive things they do
including | dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne & roy harper
playing | the first taste- fiona apple
dick grayson- constantly shirtless
Somehow, he always finds an opportunity to take his shirt off whenever possible. He doesn’t do it to stroke his ego by showing his muscles and tan skin (well, maybe he wants to show off a little), but he just overheats way too easily, hence, removing the easiest thing he can get off his body.
It is definitely not uncommon to arrive at your apartment and find him just in sweatpants making dinner, or lounging around, or fixing his gear, or hanging out with his family. Matter of fact, everyone’s used to it already, so no one really bats an eye when Dick’s hands start to go towards the hem of his t-shirt.
He even has learnt tricks and some fancy ways to twirl his body around to make it sillier for those beside him, so at least they get a show of it. His favourite is a one-handed trick that left you completely flustered because he had one hand splayed on your waist while he pulled you to his chest, and with the other, he just took his shirt off with such ease that it almost made you stutter.
jason todd- casual dominance
He takes the lead everywhere he goes with such natural confidence that you just can’t help but ogle at him. There’s a fine line between being a gentleman and what he is, because the first one he considers basic common sense, but the latter is just how he has always been.
I’m talking about covering corners when you near one in the off chance you can get hurt, one hand always on your body when you’re outside, he doesn’t care if he’s holding your hand, you’re holding his arm or he places his in the small of your back. Replaces things for you before they run out, always assertive and direct with you in every context, he doesn’t play with you, ever.
Something he subconsciously started doing was speaking up in your place whenever you gave him “the look”, when everything is too much at the same time and you just want to go home but still have things to do. Ordering at a restaurant but you don’t really feel like talking? Consider it done. At a bookstore but you can’t find what you’re looking for? He’s asking the workers before you can finish your sentence. Jason often thinks he’s not the most incredible person ever, but he’ll always make sure to accommodate you to feel safe everywhere.
tim drake- pays attention
Tim stares A LOT, but not in a creep way, but rather in a “I’m trying to figure you out without you having to tell me” and he always guesses right. A slight change in your routine cannot go unnoticed if he’s nearby, and if he deems the situation appropriate, he’ll ask you about it, making sure everything’s okay.
“You have moved three times in 30 minutes since you sat down on the couch, is it that the cushions are too hard or that nasty fall on the staircases from Wednesday kicking your ass?” kinda observation. Very smooth with it too, since he doesn’t really bring things up until you find on your kitchen counter that one brand of tea you mentioned offhandedly months ago that your mom used to make you as a kid, and now you’re full-on sobbing because ??? how did he remember and where did he find them??
He likes paying attention to you, he finds comfort in being the one to know you best and learning what makes you be you. Long and deep conversations with each other is something you both cherish, but also knowing your body language, how you think and your passions makes him feel completely connected to you.
damian wayne- protective, not possessive
There’s something in the way Damian’s brain works that makes him want to protect intensely everything he loves, those being most of the time his family, the few material things the takes care of, and you. He doesn’t think of you as his or anyone’s for that matter, but that you and him belong together, and he isn’t shy when showing it.
This tendency of his is mostly shown because he cares, he cares so much that his family was confused at first because he’s usually grumpy and avoidant, but now, Damian clings to you the moments he’s with you. He often displays this as latching onto you and asking about you frequently, just enough to tread on the line between annoying and overbearing like “possessive insecure guys, which I’m clearly not” and protective and caring, always falling into the last category.
He likes when you go to him, doesn’t matter what for. A problem, a rant, a cuddle, or just his simple presence, he’s there for everything, holding onto them, protecting whatever you need him for.
roy harper- matches your freak
Roy’s up to do anything, he doesn’t really care if it’s embarrassing or loud, you tell him if he wants to do something and he’s up at 6 am the next day ready for it. You once confided in him that you felt a bit worried at times for being “too much” or “too weird” and even if he never thought of you like that, he spends every day proving that even if you feel that way, he’ll be by your side doing the same thing.
Tik tok trends, cringy dance moves in the kitchen, drunk confessions, not only he matches your freak, but he also corresponds it. Oh, you’re worried you talked a bit loud at the restaurant because you got too excited telling him the new game you’re playing? He’s screeching at the top of his lungs the next second because he thought he saw a bug, whoopsies.
It may feel incredibly silly to bystanders, but him being comfortable enough with you and himself to act that way is just to incredibly attractive that you even worry about yourself for finding that so hot. Meanwhile, Roy’s by your side with a Minecraft t-shirt waiting for you to come out of your thoughts to beat the ender dragon together.
IN WHICH... after a fight with your boyfriend, you force him to sleep with a pillow between you. here's how he handles it.
featuring: dick grayson, jason todd, bruce wayne, damian wayne, and tim drake.
warnings: fluff, crack, f!reader, established relationship (wife!reader for bruce, gf!reader for everyone else), EXTREME mommy kink!tim—dni if this is "too freaky" for you!!
inspired by this ask
dick grayson:
dick definitely would be upset and would try at least 3 times to ditch the pillow.
but each time he yanks the item from between you and tucks it under his head, you yank it right back and lodge it between your bodies.
he gives up on removing it after attempt #10.
you're turned on your side away from him, seeming way too unbothered for his liking. he's probably pissing you off even more, but attention from you is all he wants.
he pokes your shoulder repeatedly, arm draped over the barrier pillow. "baby, baby, baby, baby," he repeats with each poke.
he grins big and wide when you finally turn over your shoulder, glaring at him. "do i need to get a bigger pillow?" you scoff.
"no. this one's perfectly fine," he chirps. "though i'd prefer no pillow at all. i can't feel my baby up like this!"
you roll your eyes. "you don't deserve to feel me up, richard. go to sleep." you shuffle closer to the edge of the bed, juuust far enough that he can't reach you.
he groans dramatically, flopping down on his side with a huff. "fine, whatever. you don't love me, i get it. goodnight, i guess."
he falls asleep with a big, babyish pout on his face, his lip jutted out like a toddler's rather than a 20-something year old's.
his spirits are definitely raised in the morning, though, because he wakes up to his body being draped over the stupid pillow barrier, head nestled against your chest.
jason todd:
jason would take it much worse than dick. he'd feel personally offended, undoubtedly.
he'd glare daggers at the pillow separating his body from yours, wishing he could burn it to ashes with just his eyes. his arms are crossed over his beefy chest like a child told no to dessert.
finally, he tears his eyes from the pillow and onto your sweet body. your beautiful, worship-worthy body. "can i touch you yet?"
"no, jay! that's the whole point of the pillow. no cuddles allowed, i'm angry with you."
he grumbles. "no cuddles isn't the same as no touching. can't i at least hold your hand, ma?"
"no."
"ma, please?"
"jason peter," you snap, giving him the look. "i said no. goodnight."
his eyes remain trained to your back, watching it rise and fall as you breathe. "...night."
you feel much worse about how you spoke to him when you wake up the next morning. his side of the bed is cold, and the pillow in the middle looks as if it hadn't moved once since it was placed.
you get up, padding to the kitchen where jason is flipping pancakes at the stove. his shoulders are slumped, head swaying as if it's too heavy for his neck. he lets out a deep sigh. you frown.
your arms wrap around yourself as you approach. "jay?" you call softly, standing beside him at the stove. no touching, not yet. he doesn't look at you, so you tilt your head to get a look at his face and oh...
his eyelids droop with exhaustion, eyes a bit red from straining to stay awake. his under-eyes are dark bags. his lips are chapped. "baby? what's up with you?"
alas, he looks at you, his lips don't smile, eyes don't soften. he holds out your plate of pancakes and you accept it. "i did not sleep."
"...why?"
he looks at you as if it's obvious. "well, i did not have you to hold, and i can't guarantee your safety without holding you. i tried to sleep, but then i had a nightmare that i'd...lost you. every time i shut my eyes i saw the same thing as the dream. so, i decided to just stay awake."
you've never felt like a shittier person. you throw your arms around him, feeling him slump against you. you vow to never but him on a touch ban again, no matter how angry he makes you.
bruce wayne:
personally, i feel like bruce just...wouldn't even put up with it lol.
unlike how dick and jason kept the pillow and respected the rule (to an extent), bruce would just laugh in your face when he comes in for bed.
he stands at the foot of the bed, looking at your scowling face and the fluffy pillow at your side. "what's with the barrier?"
you huff. "no touching, bruce. i'm not in the mood."
he places his glass of water on his nightstand, casually crawling into bed and tossing the pillow across the room.
"bruce!" you glare, but you can't do much when he snakes his beefy arms around your waist and tugs you close until your back meets his chest. "i said no touch—"
"—i know what you said, darling. and—no offense—i don't give two fucks," he chuckles, the sound low and deep in your ear. fuck, why does he sound so good when you're so upset? "if i want to hold my wife, i'm going to hold my lovely wife."
you grumble, fighting his grip, but to no avail. "bruceeee," you groan.
"g'night, honey," he only croons, kissing your jawline so sweetly. "i love you."
moments of silence pass.
"i said i love you," he repeats, pinching your waist.
you squirm. "ughhhuh, i love you, too."
"good girl," he grins into your neck, holding you closer. "get some beauty sleep, i'll have alfred prepare you a spectacular breakfast tomorrow morning—y'know, as my apology."
true to his word, you wake up to his arms still locked around you like chains. however, the delectable scent of pancakes, waffles, berries and cream, eggs, and coffee wafts into the bedroom.
"ugh, i hate you, you promising, handsome bastard," you grumble, relaxing into his arms with the assumption that he's still sleeping. "i can never stay mad at you."
you feel lips curl into a grin against your shoulder. "yes, yes, you hate me," he mumbles sarcastically. "my wifey hates me and my lovely arms and the breakfast i make her."
"you didn't make anything. alfred made it."
"i made him make it. lovable by association, honey."
damian wayne:
when damian's told that you'd be sleeping with a pillow between you, your sweet baby's signature scowl is tainted with unshed tears. you feel bad, but your anger from the fight overpowers your remorse.
"a...pillow barrier?" he mumbles. "really, habibti?"
you nod. "a pillow barrier. i'm so upset with you, dami. i don't wanna cuddle."
he nods his head once. "i'll try to cope," he sighs, climbing into bed and throwing the covers over his head.
all of damian that shows is a little peek of jet-black hair from under the sheets. despite yourself, you have to bite back a smile. so cute.
"night, damian," you murmur.
his voice is muffled by the comforter. "goodnight, habibti. i love you oh so dearly, my world."
you're glad that he's hiding under the sheets, that way he can't see your grin breaks through—can't see your walls cracking. "i love you too, dami."
dami. the nickname makes your boyfriend smile. dami rather than damian, that's progress.
what you don't see is damian tossing and turning for hours until the clock strikes 2 am. he just can't sleep without his beloved woman in his arms, without your hair tickling his cheek as you drool into his neck.
so, he crawls out of bed and into the cool nighttime chill of the manor. if you won't cuddle him, he shall find a replacement. he returns to the bedroom a bit later with alfred the cat tucked under his arm and titus trailing lazily behind him.
he reunites with the warm blankets, holding alfred close under his chin. titus climbs into bed, sprawling comfortably over damian's legs.
you awaken the next morning the most adorable sight. your dami, arms (and legs) full of his cherished pets.
his hold on the cat is tight, the animal purring softly into damian's neck. titus has since inched his way up the bed, his head level with damian's—the dog is nearly spooning your boyfriend, doggy drool coating his sleep shirt.
well, at least he found a way to get his fix of drool and warmth. your walls finally crumble, and you reach over the pillow to stroke your knuckles against his cheek. that wakes him up.
he peels one eye open, grinning at the gooey look on your face. "what? i needed something to hold."
tim drake:
mommy kink!tim is activated almost instantly, and he tears each and every one of your walls down until you forget why you were even upset with him in the first place.
his face falls when you announce the pillow's presence. "what?!"
"you heard me, tim. pillow stays."
"no...no, no, no, no," he whines softly, feeling helpless. he tosses his phone haphazardly onto his nightstand, flopping onto the bed. "please, no."
you huff. "i'm upset, tim! i can't cuddle with you tonight, i just can't."
"mommy, please!" he begs pathetically, shoving the pillow out from where it's lodged between your bodies. he nuzzles up into your side instantly. his dark locks brush your cheek. "can't sleep without my mommy...need her to hold me, and love me, and tell me i'm a good boy."
you arch a brow. "but you're not a good boy."
he whimpers, eyes drilling shut in regret at your words. "o– okay, then to tell me i'm a bad boy. that i'm such a bad boy and don't deserve my mommy's affection."
"okay, fine. you're a ba—"
"—no! i change my mind. don't tell me any of those things," he whines, big blue eyes looking apologetically up at you through thick lashes. fuck, the eyes. "i'm so so so sorry, mama. i wasn't a good boy, but i can be! a good boy, that is."
you run a hand through his hair, and he whimpers—loud and desperate for more touch. "you promise you'll be good? you're not lying to mommy so she'll cuddle you?"
he keeps his eyes on yours, so melty and gentle. "i'd never lie to you, mommy. i swear."
"okay, then. if you say you can be a good boy, timmy, then i'll cuddle you tonight. but don't make me mad again, understand?"
"understand, mommy," he coos, smiling happily now that he's won you over. he snuggles into your chest, sighing contentedly. "thank you."
a/n: anyone peep the reference at the end of bruce's headcannons?🫣
When you woke up this morning, your body had been sore. Like you had been through the meat grinder kind of sore but in a good way.
You had looked over at Dick sleeping soundlessly. Half his body on top of you and half on the bed with his messy raven hair falling over his eyes, his long lashes almost brushing his sharp cheekbones.
Yeah, a very good way.
But when you got out of bed and basically limped around the apartment, he gave you the smuggest look ever. Seriously no one had ever looked as proud of themselves as he had.
You wanted to slap him. Or kiss him. You were still deciding.
That didn’t stop you for asking him for help though, since he had been the one to carry you around the apartment and draw you a warm bath. The shoulder massage he gave you in the bathtub wasn’t too bad either. Plus the pancakes he had prepared with a little smiley face on top with chocolate syrup.
But that didn’t take away from the fact that he was an unserious man.
He had known you were supposed to have lunch with your friends today so he had been an exceptional tease last night in bed. Not just a tease, he was also apparently under the impression that you were made of rubber and could bend you however he pleased.
Just because he worked out eight hours a day didn’t mean you did too. You’d be lucky to even squeeze in a workout once a week and he knew that and yet he chose to manhandle you.
Not that you were against it. He was very skilled in the bedroom and the nights where you had to just lay there for him to do all the work were your favourites.
But damn now you were limping on your way to meet your friends. You and Dick walked out of the car, hand in hand towards where your friends were sitting outside the cafe.
And he had the audacity to snicker.
“It isn’t funny!” You huffed out, hands clutching his arm to hold for balance since your legs were way too sore to even walk.
“You weren’t complaining last night,” he replied and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose, looking way too amused.
“Shut up,” you scoffed instead of replying since thats all you could do. He wasn’t wrong.
Once you reached the table, Donna, Wally and Roy immediately greeted you with hugs.
“You okay?” Donna was the first one to speak, noticing your limp.
“Yeah,” you swallowed and sat down on the chair next to Dick’s, shifting a little. “Just walked into a chair.”
“Uh huh,” Roy narrowed his eyes at Dick’s smug face.
“And was the chair named Dick Grayson?” Wally added.
“Wally!” You gasped and looked at Dick for help but he just laughed and draped his arm over the back of your chair.
The rest of the lunch went by with way too many jokes about Dick’s dick and you’d think he’d be offended by it but he was the one initiating most of them.
Like you said, unserious.
✶ JASON TODD
Jason was out running when you woke up. It was your usual morning routine –he woke up before you, gave you a small kiss on your forehead and left for a run then returned an hour later with coffee and sometimes pastries.
This time however, you had told him you were making pancakes so he wasn’t surprised to find you standing in the kitchen wearing his shirt that he discarded last night.
He walked over to you, black tank top clinging to his body due to the sweat like a second skin and if you weren’t sore from last night you would have done something about it.
The minimal clothing you were wearing –Jason’s t-shirt and panties– didn’t do a lot to hide the marks he had left on you last night. Your thighs looked like a crime scene with how many hickeys he had left there.
You waddled over to the fridge to grab the eggs when Jason noticed you.
“What’s up?” He frowned and came up behind you.
“Hmm?” You asked and cracked an egg in the bowl.
“You’re waddling like a penguin,” he pointed out.
“Oh,” you blushed and immediately looked away from him. “You know,” you shrugged.
“Babe what?” He asked and turned you around to steal all your attention.
“Last night,” you said. “You’re not exactly small.”
“Well thanks,” he gave you a confused smile. “Is that why you’re limping?”
“That and my legs being folded like a lawn chair over your shoulders for over an hour yes,” you quipped.
Jason in response let out a cackle.
“Great, hope you’re proud of yourself,” you scrunched your nose and turned back to prepare the pancake batter.
“I mean it does wonders to a guy’s ego,” Jason let out a dramatic breath. “Seven orgasms in one night is my new record.”
“Jason!” You huffed and pushed him away. “You cannot count my orgasms you freak.”
He laughed again and came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle before nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.
“Seriously though, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked, pressing fluttering kisses to the hickeys he had left on your neck.
“No,” you hummed and craned your head back.
“You liked it?”
“Yes,” you breathed as his kisses made their way down to your shoulders.
His fingers busied themselves with massaging your hips, causing you to close your eyes in relief and rest your head back on his shoulders. Which gave him even more room to kiss on your neck.
“Let me make you feel better,” he murmured and turned you around before getting down on his knees.
“Jason,” you said through a shaky breath.
“Yeah?” He looked up at you through dark eyelashes and hooked your thigh over his shoulder. “Is this okay?”
You nodded your head which was all the permission he needed.
It was going to be a long morning.
✶ TIM DRAKE
In hindsight, waiting for your boyfriend to return from his week long mission at the manor probably wasn’t your brightest idea.
He had texted you that he would be back today and would just crash at the manor instead of coming back to your shared penthouse.
But you hadn’t seen him in a week! So it was only fair you drove to the manor and let yourself into the batcave to wait for him.
It had almost been an hour since you made yourself at home on the little beanbag chair with a book in your hands in the Batcave along with Barbara who was perched at the Batcomputer, doing whatever it is that Oracle did.
Tim returned soon along with the rest of the Bats on his Batcycle (Batman wasn’t a very creative person you were beginning to realise).
Damian made a ‘TT’ sound at you before making his way towards the shower area.
Tim on the other hand broke out in a grin the second he looked at you. He didn’t even bother taking off his mask or the suit before he was launching himself at you on the beanbag.
“Tim!” You grunted when his armoured chest collided with yours. “You’re crushing me.”
“Don’t care,” he muttered and pushed his head in the crook of your neck.
“Take a shower you stink!” You said and pushed him off.
“I see how it is,” he raised his head to look at you and if you could see his eyes behind his domino mask, you knew he would be narrowing his eyes at you. “I come back a week later after saving the world and my girlfriend says I stink.”
“You do,” Jason mumbled somewhere behind him.
“Ignore him he’s jealous,” Tim said to you before leaning down to give you a fleeting kiss. “I’ll be back,” he murmured and finally got off the beanbag to go take a shower.
That had been enough of your loving and sweet boyfriend for the night.
Because he was soon coming out of the shower without a shirt and in only a pair of sweatpants. He didn’t even bothering talking to anyone or even debriefing the case like he usually did, he just made his way towards you and picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.
Thankfully everyone else was busy cleaning themselves and only Barbara was present in the Batcave. She shook her head at you like she knew exactly what was happening but didn’t want to be a part of it.
It had been a very long night.
The night for which you were paying now.
Tim’s heavy arm was thrown over your stomach in a tight grip like he never wanted to let you go.
Squinting open an eye, you flicked the bedside lamp on –having no clue what time it was outside due to the blackout curtains being drawn.
You turned over in Tim’s iron grip and looked around the room which looked like it had gotten robbed last night.
Your shirt was thrown on the floor along with your shorts, your bra dangling down the knob of the door –no clue how it got there. And your panties were probably torn in half somewhere. Even the pillows were thrown haphazardly, the covers weren’t even covering you.
Half the reason you woke up was the chill in the room causing goosebumps to rise on your naked body. The only source of heat you had was Tim’s equally as naked body wrapped around you like a koala.
You rubbed your eyes and tried to look at him. The first thing you saw were the red scratches on his chest, glowing against his pale skin and you were sure if he turned around his back would look the same.
“Tim?” You whispered and brushed his hair away from his face.
He only groaned in response and tugged you closer but his grip on your back was beginning to hurt.
“Hey,” you tried again and pushed at his shoulder –which you now saw had a bite mark on it.
Images of Tim’s bicep wrapped around your neck came to your mind but you quickly shook them off. Not the time.
“Tim come on, you’re hurting me,” you winced, which finally caught his attention.
“What?” He asked, voice laced with sleep and somehow deeper like you’ve never heard before. “Where are you hurt?”
“It just feels sore.”
“Fuck I’m so sorry,” he sat up straight in bed and leaned down to pull the covers up.
“It’s okay, you didn’t do anything I didn’t like,” you giggled when he turned around and yep his back looked every bit like his chest. Red scratches all over.
“Your back,” you whispered and reached out to lightly brush your hand over the marks. “What the fuck did we do last night?”
“I think I just missed you too much,” he chuckled. “Turn around let me give you a massage.”
“Yes please,” you moaned and turned around on your stomach to let Tim rub the soreness out of your muscles with his nimble fingers.
The knots in your muscles immediately came loose with each movement of his warm hands on your much colder body. Maybe they taught massaging the pain away at vigilante school or wherever Bruce took all the kids of his he seems to adopt.
His hands went lower to gently rest your calf over his shoulder –much gentler than last night. He pressed soft kisses to your leg as his fingers rubbed all the way to your ankles.
Later when you two went down for breakfast (it was around lunchtime), Cass and Damian gave you a disgusted look. Jason raised an eyebrow at the bite marks on Tim’s forearm while Dick only laughed in amusement. Even Barbara was staring at the hickey on your jaw since apparently Tim had forgotten he was human.
✶ BRUCE WAYNE
You were sitting on the chair in the little breakfast nook when Bruce entered the kitchen. A crossword puzzle was sat on the table next to a plate of toast and orange juice in front of you as you mindlessly scribbled on the puzzle.
Bruce came up behind you and gave you a little kiss on the back of your head before walking over to the cabinets to pull out a mug.
“Oh wait! I made you a yogurt bowl,” you said and hopped off the chair.
Bruce raised an eyebrow and watched you limping towards the fridge in nothing but his old uni sweatshirt. Your hair was falling over your shoulders, messy from a good night’s sleep. And other activities.
His eyes wandered lower to the backs of your knees where he was gripping your legs last night and sure enough there were marks to show it. For a second he was worried but when you turned around and gave him your million dollar smile, he forgot what he was thinking about.
“It has raspberries, nuts, pumpkin seeds, chia seeds. It’s good for your health,” you beamed and set it down in front of your own breakfast on the table.
Bruce joined you in a beat and eyed you as you grimaced a little while sitting down.
“Everything okay?” He asked.
“Yeah,” you said, voice a bit sarcastic which he didn’t miss.
“That’s not convincing,” he frowned.
“You rearranged my guts last night. I think that has something to do with me having trouble sitting down,” you smirked and he immediately blushed.
You heard a sudden noise from behind you and when you turned around to look, Tim was standing there, looking nauseated. “I’ll uh… have breakfast in my room…” he said.
“I didn’t know you stayed here last night,” you said to him.
“I wish I hadn’t,” he gagged and grabbed a cup of coffee before leaving the two of you alone.
Bruce scrunched his nose and turned his face towards his breakfast.
“Oh don’t go all shy now! You were very vocal last night,” you teased and nudged his foot with yours just to watch his ears turn even redder.
“I think we should take a warm bath together to you know, let our bodies heal,” he suggested.
“Uh huh,” you narrowed your eyes. “And no other reason at all.”
“Of course my darling,” Bruce smiled and tugged you out of your chair before picking you up in his arms.
“No other reason at all.”
my first multi part fic ever feeling nervous
didn’t know which photos to use so…
if you couldn’t tell i’ve been extremely tim drake pilled lately thanks to all the requests ive received for him 😭
likes comments and reblogs appreciated, hope you guys enjoy <3
Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne.
Synopsis: They are having a heated argument.
DICK GRAYSON
When his parents died, he grieved for a while, but eventually, he just... kept going. No regrets, no looking back.
He always managed to move on from bad things.
Or at least, that’s what he told himself while stuffing the candy you’d bought together onto the highest shelves — shoved all the way to the back where you wouldn’t notice them, even if you tried to reach.
That way, you’d have no choice but to talk to him.
He’d already lost count of how long you’d been ignoring him. The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn’t stand sleeping alone.
Not again.
After the fight, he’d said maybe the two of you should take a breather. Cool off before things got worse.
So when he came back later, apology already rehearsed in his head, breakfast tray balanced carefully in his hands, he walked into the bedroom almost excited.
What Dick hadn’t expected was for you to take his words that seriously.
When he said take a breather, he meant maybe thirty minutes. An hour, tops. Just enough time to calm down before saying something unforgivable.
Not... whatever this was.
Not you refusing to talk to him altogether. Not sleeping on opposite sides of the bed. Not acting like the two of you were suddenly strangers trying to rethink your entire relationship.
The breakfast went untouched.
So did the small pout on his face.
You didn’t even let him sit beside you when he tried to talk.
He ended up sleeping on the couch.
The next day was fucking miserable. His mood was awful, and everyone in the manor could feel it hanging in the air.
Grayson didn’t act like this. Even with his half-assed “I’m fine,” it was obvious he was anything but.
And when he finally got back to the apartment that night, exhausted and emotionally wrung out, he went straight for the bed, practically collapsing on top of you like he needed the contact to survive.
You pushed at him weakly, nowhere near as firmly as you had the past few days.
He let out this quiet, bitter little laugh but still refused to let go.
“Baby, stop,” he mumbled softly.
Even when you tried to shove him off again, he just held you tighter, burying his face against your neck like he was starving for you.
“Please,” he whispered, completely drained.
JASON TODD
Jason could be such a fucking asshole sometimes — selfish, cold, always running his mouth before thinking twice. It was easier for him to let people hate him than let them get close enough to actually understand him.
Not that he acted that way around kids or women. Around them, he kept himself restrained. Distant. But the second he felt cornered — exposed in any way — those sharp looks and cruel words came out like second nature.
A defense mechanism. The only one he’d ever really had.
You knew that.
You knew about his mother leaving him behind like he was nothing. Knew how, for one brief moment, Bruce Wayne had made him feel wanted — safe — only for Jason to end up feeling abandoned all over again.
Trust didn’t come easy to him. Neither did vulnerability. Loving you probably scared the hell out of him.
So instead of fighting back, you swallowed the hurt along with your pride. You waved your hand dismissively, avoiding his eyes as you muttered a quiet, “Forget it,” before turning around and walking away.
And somehow, that felt worse.
Jason swallowed thickly as he watched you leave.
You didn’t yell at him.
Didn’t demand an apology.
Didn’t ask him to take back a single thing he’d said.
You just… left.
Like you were tired.
After everything he’d thrown at you, all you wanted was for him to forget it.
But he couldn’t.
Because after that, something changed.
You still talked to him. Still answered when he spoke. But there was distance in you now — something careful, almost detached — and Jason noticed every second of it.
It made his chest ache.
And, if he was being honest, it scared him enough to make him paranoid.
TIM DRAKE
This time, the fight started over something stupid.
You’d turned off Tim’s alarm so he could finally rest on his day off. In your head, it was a small act of care — something gentle.
Tim didn’t see it that way.
He had deadlines, reports, a million things waiting for him, and when he woke up hours later, disoriented and exhausted, the soft good morning kisses you pressed against his face quickly turned into frustration.
“No, because this isn’t about whether I should rest or not,” he snapped, shoving himself out of bed. “It’s about the fact that you don’t get to interfere with my work. You don’t get to decide when I stop.”
You frowned, trying not to react to the sharpness in his voice. “Tim, you hadn’t slept in two days.”
“Yeah? And just because you don’t have the same responsibilities I do doesn’t mean you get to make choices for me.”
The words hit harder than he intended.
Your expression changed immediately. Hurt. Shocked.
“Tim.”
But he was already too angry, too exhausted, too worked up to stop himself.
“Mind your own business, and I’ll mind mine.”
And after that, neither of you were exactly kind to each other.
The argument ended with Tim slamming the front door hard enough to shake the walls.
The second he got into the car, regret settled heavy in his chest.
Because Tim overthought everything.
Every failed relationship. Every mistake. Every moment where he’d been too distant, too busy, too emotionally unavailable. The thought looped endlessly in his head until he felt sick with it.
You’re ruining this too.
You’re going to lose them too.
By the time he sat down in front of his computer, he couldn’t focus on a single thing. His leg bounced anxiously under the desk while his mind tortured him with scenario after scenario of you getting tired of him. Leaving him. Finding someone softer. Easier to love.
Someone better.
The anger faded quickly, leaving behind only exhaustion and this horrible, crushing sadness.
So when he finally came home hours later, all that was left of his pride was exhaustion.
Quietly, almost nervously, Tim slipped into bed beside you.
He turned toward you carefully, watching your face in the dim light for a second with this small, hopeful look in his eyes. Like maybe if he stayed close enough, you’d roll over and pull him into your arms. Maybe you could both pretend the fight never happened until morning.
But you didn’t move.
You just turned your back to him.
And suddenly the room felt unbearably cold.
Tim bit down hard on his lip the second he felt tears gathering in his eyes, embarrassed by how fast they came. Still, he couldn’t stop them. They slid silently down his cheeks while he stared at your back, trying not to make a sound.
When you still didn’t turn around, the quiet sniffles eventually broke into shaky, uneven crying.
Because that was the moment it really hit him.
You weren’t going to comfort him this time.
Please.
Please kiss his swollen eyes and tell him you’re still here.
DAMIAN WAYNE
To everyone’s surprise, Damian Wayne was actually a good boyfriend.
It sounded absurd to anyone who only knew him from a distance. With the way he carried himself — sharp tongue, permanent scowl, an attitude that pushed people away before they could even try getting close — nobody expected him to be soft with someone he loved.
But he was.
Painfully so.
Damian was romantic in a way that caught you off guard. Quietly sentimental. The kind who noticed insignificant details you'd mentioned months before.
There was something unbearably delicate hidden beneath all that hostility.
And little by little, you had managed to reach it.
You peeled back every layer he tried so desperately to hide behind until you finally touched the vulnerable parts of him nobody else got to see.
At first, it felt like a victory.
Like warmth blooming inside your chest.
Being trusted by Damian Wayne felt sacred. Intimate. You thought you understood him now — the things he feared, the things he buried, the things he struggled to say out loud.
You were wrong.
Because somehow, Damian always found a way to shut you back out again.
One wrong moment, one careless outburst, and suddenly every wall you thought you’d broken down was standing taller than before.
You pressed your lips together tightly, forcing yourself not to say something impulsive.
The silence in his bedroom felt horrible.
Cold.
Suffocating.
“What’s wrong, Damian?”
He didn’t answer.
“Damian,” you tried again, irritation slipping into your voice this time.
The entire day had been fine. More than fine, actually. He’d left his classes early just to spend time with you. You’d gone out to eat together, watched a movie back at the manor, stayed curled up against each other for hours.
And then suddenly he changed.
Short answers.
Dismissive looks.
Ignoring you whenever you spoke.
The worst part was that he’d done it in front of your friends.
Having your boyfriend act cold and irritated toward you in front of your classmates was humiliating.
“I already told you. Nothing.”
“Then why are you talking to me like this?” you asked, frustration finally bubbling over. “If something upset you, how am I supposed to fix it if you won’t talk to me? We’re together, Damian. We’re supposed to work things out.”
He laughed quietly under his breath, but there was nothing amused about it.
“God, you’re irritating.”
You stared at him silently.
And there it was again.
That look.
Distant. Closed off. Like he’d shoved you outside the walls all over again.
“Do you genuinely believe something is wrong with me?” he asked mockingly. “I have far more important matters to deal with.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“Fine.”
The second the word left your mouth, Damian hesitated.
Barely.
But you noticed it.
“What?” you asked flatly.
You grabbed your backpack from the floor and walked toward the door of his room.
Damian watched you the entire time without speaking.
Because what was he supposed to say?
That he hated how your friends interrupted the date the second things started feeling intimate? That it bothered him watching you laugh with them while he sat there feeling invisible? That he’d wanted your attention to himself for once?
It was supposed to be his time with you.
His moment.
The bedroom door shut softly behind you.
And suddenly the room felt unbearably empty.
Damian sat down at the edge of the bed slowly, his chest tightening with every passing second until it became difficult to breathe. His eyes burned.
You hadn’t even tried to stop him from pushing you away this time.
You just left.
Eventually, he collapsed face-first onto the mattress, burying himself beneath the blankets like hiding would somehow make the ache in his chest disappear.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there.
Minutes.
Maybe hours.
At some point, he grabbed his phone.
Your chat was still open.
Damian stared at your contact silently while his thumb hovered over the call button. His stomach twisted painfully with nerves.
Call them.
Don’t call them.
Call them.
Before he could think too hard about it, he pressed the button.
The ringing nearly made him sick.
Once.
Twice.
By the third ring, you answered.
“Hello?”
Damian froze.
Your voice was soft. Careful.
And suddenly, all at once, the anger drained out of him, leaving behind nothing but this awful ache in his chest.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Because right then, curled up alone in his bed with tears stinging his eyes, Damian could only think one thing:
Who was he without you?
BRUCE WAYNE
Why are you arguing with this man? Leave the old man alone; he has enough problems already.
• I admit it, I just wanted to write about Tim being a whiny crybaby. oc tim (?
Also, as you know, I don't speak English and it's translated thanks to technology :) I've had this in drafts for months ()
: ̗̀➛ 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 :)!
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Includes: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Wally West
Summary: he accidentally comes home in full superhero garb and now he has to think of a clever way to explain himself without revealing his identity
Word Count: abt 500/part
Content/CW -> gn! reader, mild injury (wally's), mention of voltron (tim's), mostly silly, technically they commit a Crime
froggi yaps -> was on a roll writing this, this idea was so silly and fun >.< thank you to the nonnie who sent it in
Dick:
Moving in with Dick Grayson has had its hiccups.
He has the oddest sleep schedule known to man, for one, and every time he tries to cook anything beyond what a 13 year old can, it seems to end in smoke and sheepish apologies.
Collectively, you now have more coffee mugs than you do forks, which speaks more to the amount of cutlery you’ve curated than it does to decorative mugs.
Nothing however, in the two weeks you’ve been living together, could have prepared you for this.
Nightwing stands in your bedroom, frozen in shock after having climbed through your window. You stand on the opposite side of your bedroom, the baseball bat Dick keeps by his bed clutched in your hands.
“Woah, woah, I’m Nightwing, I’m one of the good—“
Nightwing is real?
“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?”
And where the hell is Dick when you need him?
Nightwing raises his hands in surrender, a slightly-familiar sheepish grin on his face. “You’re not gonna hit me with that, are you?” He pulls out one of his own escrima sticks and tosses it on the bed, “at least use that, it’ll hurt more.”
You blink, unimpressed. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“Dead serious.”
Despite your trepidation, you lean forward and snatch the stick off the middle of the bed. You turn it over in your hands, examining it.
Dick breathes a sigh of relief, happy his distraction worked. He’s dead tired, and he’d gotten sloppy on the way home when all he could think about was getting out of his suit and into bed with you.
He didn’t even think about what he was doing until he’d slipped his second leg through the window only to be met with the sound of you shouting. He’d by lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little proud at how quick you were to get out of bed and start threatening the fully grown vigilante in your room.
“If you’re done yelling,” he says cautiously, “I’ll just be going, I’m clearly in the wrong apartment.”
“The wrong—“ You laugh incredulously, “you don’t double check before breaking and entering?”
“Hey, you try doing this in the dark in the middle of the night.”
Your eyes roll. Dick’s never wished more that he could reach out and kiss you.
“I’ll be taking that,” he says, reaching over the bed and grabbing his escrima stick from your hand. “Uh, maybe don’t tell anyone about this.”
“Embarrassed?”
“Something like that.”
And before you can say anything else, he’s maneuvering back through your window and disappearing into the night. You latch it tightly behind him before crawling back into bed, your heart still racing.
Grabbing your phone, you start typing out a message to Dick. You’ll never believe what just happened to me.
Jason:
You thought he was a myth. Some silly tale passed around from criminal to criminal like parents warning their children of the bogeyman. But if he’s a myth, then why is he standing in your living room?
It was hard enough to come to terms with Batman being real, but seeing Red Hood in person is almost as absurd as if Santa Claus himself had broken into your house.
You hold your breath, pressed against the wall, the glass of water you’d snuck out of bed to grab clutched tightly in your hand. Your hands are shaking, your knees are shaking—fear wracks your whole body. And then the glass slips, shattering across the floor and spreading glass and water everywhere.
Any hope Jason had that you didn’t see him dies in his chest. Fuck.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says, and for once, he wishes his voice was just a little softer under the mask.
“T-then why—“ You take a breath, trying to quell your fear. “Why are you in my boyfriend’s house?”
Jason wishes he had a better answer, something beyond ‘I’m a fucking idiot who didn’t think before I broke into my own house in full costume while you were there.’ He comes up empty.
“Jason is…” His own name sounds foreign on his tongue, “he left something here for me. He didn’t say anything about you being here.”
At the sound of your boyfriend’s name, you suddenly remember the glass of his you just broke and the water seeping into his nice floors. You drop to your knees, cupping your hands and trying to stop the spread of the water.
Red Hood is crossing the room in the instant, footsteps heavy so as not to startle you. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Cleaning, I—I can’t believe I broke that.”
“You’re going to cut yourself,” he sighs, going to the kitchen and grabbing the roll of paper towel he keeps on the counter. He’s semi-grateful for your panicked state keeping you from questioning how he knew where that was. “Here, let me.”
And before you can argue against it, Red Hood starts soaking up the water with paper towel. When he’s satisfied the floors are dry, he gets to work on the glass, gloved hands carefully picking up every last shard and wrapping them in another piece of paper towel.
You can only stare in utter disbelief as Red Hood—the notorious anti-hero, this broad man who’d broken into Jason’s house—cleans up your mess as if it’s the must mundane thing in the world.
“T-thanks,” you stutter out, rising to your feet as the masked man discards the used paper towel in the trash.
“Was my fault you dropped it anyways,” he mumbles out. “Tell Jason I’ll come back a different time.”
With that, he’s disappearing back into the shadows of the room, leaving back through the window he came from. You stand there, still shaking slightly, utterly shocked by what just happened.
You’re still standing there twenty minutes later when Jason runs through the door, having ditched his gear off with Bruce. He’s frazzled, a hand running through his messy hair.
“Fuck, sweetheart, what are you still doing up?”
“Your—“ You swallow, looking at your boyfriend with equal amounts of excitement and fear. “Your friend stopped by.”
Tim:
You’re watching Netflix when you hear the distinct scraping of your window opening. Illuminated by the light of your tv screen, you can just barely make out the face of Red Robin, sleepily sliding a leg through your window.
You blink, almost entirely unphased by the sudden appearance of the vigilante. “Um, are you here for me?”
His head snaps up, mouth falling open. Shit. Tim had been so tired, so out of it, he hadn’t even realized his brain was on auto-pilot to your apartment until you’d said that. Shit.
He’s not sure whether he’s relieved or not by how unphased you are by a vigilante breaking into your house in the middle of the night.
He scratches the back of his neck. “No..?”
You hum, your own tired brain working to interpret this information. “Okay,” you say simply.
“Okay?”
You nod, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Tim fully commits, letting himself drop into your room and lean against your windowframe.
“You’re not gonna ask why I’m here, or..?”
“Are you here for something nefarious?”
“Well, no—“
You yawn, “then I don’t care. Do what you need to do.”
He mentally makes a note to talk to you tomorrow about stranger danger and what to do if someone breaks into your house in the middle of the night. For now, though, he’s slightly grateful for your nonchalance. He glances around your room, taking in the plushies you keep on your bed and the tv playing at half-volume, displaying a show a little too familiar to him.
“Shit, are you watching Voltron?”
“Rewatching,” you admit tiredly, finally sitting up in bed. “Are you a fan?”
And Tim suddenly wonders how this has never come up in all of your conversations with him. How is he just finding this out as Red Robin of all things?
“You could say that,” he laughs slightly.
Then you’re patting the bed, inviting him further into your room. Tim knows he shouldn’t, knows he has a dozen other things to look into tonight and yet, he finds himself settling in on the side of your bed he usually sleeps on to watch Voltron.
“What are you doing up so late, anyway?”
You shrug, “was waiting for my boyfriend to text me but…”
Guilt pangs in his chest. He hadn’t realized he forgot to text you back until right now, his phone feeling heavy in the pocket he’d tucked it into. Tim kicks off his boots and fully leans against your bedframe.
He really shouldn’t be doing this. He knows it’ll only lead to more trouble for himself both as Robin and Tim Drake and yet, he can’t bring himself to leave.
“There’s snacks on my kitchen counter if you’re hungry. Soda in the fridge.”
“You’re feeding me after I broke into your house?”
“Figured you work up an appetite running around the city,” you slide back down into bed, lazily splaying your limbs across the mattress. “Could probably use the extra fuel.”
Tim can only smile, “I guess I never thought of it like that.”
Wally:
Wally doesn’t realize his error until he’s skidding to a stop in his own living room only to be met with you, mid handful of popcorn, looking utterly shocked. Well, fuck.
He’s exhausted, lungs burning from all the running he’s done tonight, and the blood trickling down his side is definitely staining the carpet Iris and Barry had gifted in when he moved in. Double fuck.
“Are you—“ You tentatively rise to your feet, looking around as if you’re the one that’s in the wrong place. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” No.
Your eyes scan him, from the big logo on the middle of his suit to the hand he has clutched over the tear on his side that is definitely dripping blood all over Wally’s floors. You start towards him, equally concerned as you are flabbergasted.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’m—“ He takes a breath, a weak puff of air leaving his lips, “clearly in the wrong house.”
“You’re bleeding,” you repeat, and you’re so close now you can very visibly see the cut on his side. Nothing too deep or serious, but painful looking nonetheless. “Do you—I think my boyfriend has a first aid kit around here somewhere.”
Under the sink, Wally thinks. But he wouldn’t dare let you get too close to him right now, not when he’s sure you’ll be able to sniff out it’s him every moment. His heart pangs as he thinks of how awkward a conversation that’ll be.
Before he can say anything, you’re disappearing down the hall, coming back with the first aid kit lifted above your head like a trophy. Wally can’t help but smile a bit. You’re so damn cute.
You order him to sit on the couch, laying down a towel you’d stolen from his bathroom to keep him from making a mess. “I’ll try and be quick,” you promise. “But not all of us have super speed.”
“As long as it means you won’t maim me.”
You’re careful as you patch him up, gentle touches along his skin as you clean and disinfect the wound. Wally sits there, resisting the urge to pet your head and kiss your forehead.
It’s a few minutes of oddly comfortable silence before you’re pulling away with a grin, gently patting the wound. “There,” you proclaim. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll feel a little better, at least until you can leave.”
“Thank you,” he says, rising to his feet and twisting his core. “It feels way better already.”
“Um, before you go,” you smile sheepishly. “Do you think—could I grab a picture with you?”
He raises a brow under his cowl.
“It’s just, my boyfriend is the Flash’s biggest fan, and I think he’d just really love to see proof of you in his apartment.” Your eyes widen slightly at the look on his face, “but if you’re too busy, I totally get that too. This is silly, actually, sorry for even—“
The Flash grabs your phone out of your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. He’s quick to snap the picture, throwing up a peace sign before handing your phone back to you.
“Um, be careful out there.”
He laughs, “always am.”
He offers you a two fingered salute before he’s disappearing from your living room, leaving nothing but a trail of lightning in his wake. You smile at the picture on your phone, Wally is gonna freak.
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