No incest, no scat (or anything like that). Don't be afraid to ask what I will and won't write!!
I write M/F, M/M, F/F, and throuples! :)
** -> Means there is SMUT. As of 4/16/26, I'm still very new to writing it so be kind!
PLEASE read TWS for EACH post INDIVIDUALLY. My posts can range from silly dilly to EXTREMELY upsetting topics and EXPLICIT smut.
At this moment I have a major traumatic head injury, so my writing may seem detached/ had bad grammar at times. I may also respond to requests slowly. Please be kind.
=Need help writing an ask? Click here!=
🟪= Gender Neutral Reader!
🔵=Male Reader!
🩷=Fem Reader!
Small series/ Blurbs
Gotham Rogues X GN! Visually Impaired Reader...
Killer Croc/Waylon Jones X GN! Vision Impaired! Reader🟪
Gotham Rogues on Riddler Trophies -Arkham
DC!
Forget me not - Wally West X GN! Reader🟪
Mr. T x GN! CryBaby Reader Headcannons🟪
Kirk Langstrom (GAM) x GN! Yellow Lantern Reader🟪
Your Gotham. Bruce Wayne x Musician GN! Reader.🟪
I Don't Wanna Sound Like a Stalker But... Duke Thomas x GN! Reader🟪
Spoiler - You're in Love! Stephanie Brown x Scarecrows Daughter! reader🩷
Tim Drake x MALE! Reader g spot torture***🔵
Just Like Those Home Videos. Tim Drake x Blue Lantern!MALE Reader***🔵
I Wanna Ride That Train! Tim Drake x Hero/hurt!MALE Reader***🔵
Speedsters Can Have Fun Too! Tim Drake x Speedster! MALE! Hero
Limerence - Tim Drake x ???! GN! Reader.🟪
Speeders Can Have Fun Too! Dick Grayson x Speedster! Male Reader🔵*** - Part two, here!***
The Art of Intimacy Dick Grayson x Ex-Slade Apprentice! MALE Reader
Walked in on. GN! Reader + Dick, Jason, Duke, Tim (Separately)🟪
How To Will a Willing Test Subject.*** Jonathan Crane X Fear Aroused! GN! Reader!🟪
Hal Jordan x GN! Power ranger reader.🟪
Marvel Comics
Sins of Metal Colossus x MALE! Reader Smut***🔵
...The Kids are Spunky These Days. Spider-man Noir x Spider-MAN! Reader! Smut***🔵
Invincible
Are We Still Friends? Darkwing II/Benjamin TaylorXGn!Speedster reader.🟪
Self Control Issues. Rex Splode x GN! Reader🟪
How To Loose a Girl Guy, In 20 Days Rex Splode x MALE! Reader.🔵
You're so Fucked Rex Splode x Alternate Male! Reader Smut**🔵
Fill My Stomach Heart, Lover. Rex x GN! Cannibal/ Psychopathic Reader***🟪
Anything but Love Atom Eve x FEM! Reader🩷
How to Stalk - A Spider Mark Grayson x MALE! Stalker Spidersona reader.🔵
You're Not a Hero Either, Dude. Viltrumite Mark Grayson X Male! Hero/ Ex-Hero, Reader.🔵
No Pregnancy = No Problem. Viltrumite Mark Grayson X Male! Reader***🔵
Hey!!! This is my first time writing a request of some sort so I'm super sorry if I'm doing this wrong- but do you think we'll ever get a part 2 to the "the guide to stalk a spider" fic? I fell in love with it, we usually never get readers like that!
I also wanted to say I love your fics!! Keep up with the good work! ദ്ദി＞ᴗ＜)🎀✧
I lowkey have thought about giving that story a Part two A LOT, and I mean a LOT. People really liked it, and I loved it too - it was one of the first Stalker! Reader stories I wrote.
I have no clue where I'd go for a part two though, I can't see Mark ever getting back with a reader who hurt him like that/ threatened his family. I knowwwwww its FANfiction and all, but like - I don't wanna put out some bullshit story with basically no plot. You know? If I made it where the reader just keeps obsessing before getting killed/ locked away, it would just be the same plot as before so I'm stuck here </3
Characters: Stephanie Brown x Fem! Scarecrow's daughter! Reader.
Summary: Obsession runs in the family. Clearly. Though, it's easy to see that your father was always more in-love with his experiments than whoever your mother was. Yet, even then, he's never let you in the lab. So, when you kill love interest after love interest, stalk person after person - he's not too surprised when you find an obsession of your own.
Warnings: Stalking, manipulation, sexual details mentioned but not explicit, drugging (duh), kidnapping.
A/N: Lowkey hated this, but no-beta we die like Stephanie Brown.
This is not a love story.
"-I'm in love!"
Edward stifles, hand slapping over his mouth, pursing his lips into a thin line to practically force himself not to laugh as he watches Crane -The Scarecrow, The Scarecrow, pause in his work. His head turning ever so slowly towards his oh, so doting daughter.
You squeal, jumping up and down in a complete circle with the clap of your hands. Crane's rumbling and grumbling of how you're not allowed down in his lab during his business meetings ceasing entirely.
Edwards used to this, you're cute -in a patronizing way. A way a child hating uncle may see their entertaining, mess of a niece.
"A lover, you say?" The table slowly creaks when Crane leans away, standing up straight, body as slow as it is methodical as he glances back at you.
"Not yet Daddy!" You preen, hands clasping together in a way that signals faux innocence as you basically ignore Nygma. Grinning ear to ear as he swirled his cane around, e/c eyes wide in childish excitement, "I saw her at the bookstore!"
Crane is all too still, words coming out in a low drawl, a mummer, like a whisper haunting through the room, "And who might this suitor be?"
"I don't know yet Daddy-" Your footsteps are quick as you rattle over towards him, moving as fluidly like your father as he capped the vial he was working with. He's always saying the sulfuric smell would get stuck on you, that the smell doesn't suit a girl such as yourself, "She was so pretty, and so blonde, and so smooth, and she looked so warm and squishy, and she had really nice veins, like really, really nice ones, ones that protrude out of her skin! She had really big eyes too!"
Crane hums, claws coming up to graze your cheek much too sweetly before sliding them to twist a strain of your hair. Twisting the lock around his finger, "A girl..."
You nod, bright eyed and bushy tailed, "Yes daddy!"
"Mmmm..." A noise rumbles deep in his chest as he paused, maybe becoming lost in thought as his eyes veered off into the distance. The claw in your hair is careful, methodical, twirling with a foreign intent. One to nurture instead of hurt. The blade soon slips, and Edward watches as it taps your cheek in an almost affectionate way, "Proceed." He drawls.
You squeal, and Edward raises an eyebrow as you practically fling yourself at your Father. The lump of a walking burlap not moving an inch in your arms as you practically squeeze him to death, your bouncing echoing eerily through the desolate room,
"Thank you Daddy, thank you!" You pull away, words not drifting as you start around his lab, "Can I borrow your camera?"
"You have your own." Crane replied bluntly.
"Not anymore!" You reply all too chirpily, grabbing his camera and fiddling with the controls before wiping the dust off the screen, "Besides, you haven't used this one since your doctorate days!"
A low rumble emits from Cranes chest as his eyes are fixed on his notes, all too aware of how quiet Nygma is being as you bound over; practically skipping in joy as you kiss your father on the cheek. Your arms slinging around his neck with a hug, your forehead nuzzling into his cheek, "Thank you Daddy!"
When you pull away, slinging the camera around your neck with the old strap; Nygma finally makes himself known,
"My, my, so the little birdy is finally flying from the coop. Hm?" Edward grins all too tauntingly, cane tapping on the floor, "How the time flies. Why, I remember when you were just a little sack of burlap on crawling amongst the rodents on the floor."
Your eyes snap over to him, face dropping into a curt glare. All joy flattening as you decide to finally acknowledge him - if you had even noticed him at all in your frenzy, of course. The pure malice buzzing through your veins for him as obvious as the sky now.
Edward almost cackles with glee at how much you look like your father as you give him such a dead eyed stare,
"Daddy, the rodents escaped from the lab again."
"Oh- ho! Ho!" Edward snickers, watching you begin to walk away, "Tsk, tsk, tsk, you know better than any! Your father doesn't use rodent subjects, only the human ones!"
The way you walk away, the way you ignore him, the way your body shifts into somewhat of a more normal stride for society - it's all too familiar to Edward as you disapear around the corner. And he's grinning ear to ear when he turns to Crane,
"How pathetic, The Big Bad 'Crow wrapped around his little daughters finger." He leans against the table, watching Crane uncap whatever concoction of doom and gloom he's making to fuck up Batman this nefarious week, "She acts so...innocent with you, a childish tyrant, yet a monster with the poor, poor, people of Gotham." He croons in faux concern, taunting, "You might want to work on some emotional therapy for the childs sake." He taunts.
Crane doesn't flinch, "You're much to cocky for a man who's standing in a gas chamber. No gas mask on."
"Now you wouldn't actutally use that disaster on me." Edward cackles, and he tilts his hat, "We have much too much to plan!"
Crane just eyes him.
___
Perfect, god she was just, perfect!
And no, this isn't just you saying this like the last 4 times. You're being real, you're being honest, you're being true! True to yourself, true to life, true to love.
Because how could you just not love her?
The way she pouts at a 40 degree angle whenever she doesn't get her way, the way her witt weighs more than her words, the way her jaw clenches, the way her fingers curl, the way her lashes flutter, the way she stands. Every bite of the cheek, every clench of her jaw, every look! It's all taken by you!
Documented with precision of course, with care, you could have it no less; you loved her, and you couldn't disappoint your dad now could you?
You pout at the thought, cradling your camera in your hands.
You followed her everywhere, home, work, the coffee shop down the street, the store two blocks over, the drug store she only goes to once a month, the Bat Burger much too far for comfort. Especially in the shoes she wears, what if she gets blisters, what if she stubs her toe, what if she trips over the many slanted tiles of Gotham's sidewalks, what if she gets mugged!? Anytime you leave her house your tugging at your hair, griding your teeth, munching on your nails, the stress eating away at you. You love her! How could you not watch her, how could you not protect her! Gotham was such a filthy place, you knew well enough, being near the root of it.
Uncle Harvey was so nice though when you asked him not to do anymore crime in that area!
You remember the deep rumble that protruded from his chest as he fiddled his coin between his fingers. The movement as methodical and silent as he ever was. Listening to you rave, and rant, and love about your new girlfriend!
Oops! Future girlfriend! You giggle at your slipup, pawing at photos you're much too possessive over - in his words. But their your photos, you took them, they're yours, she's yours.
With enough feet kicking and rambling he even agreed to not attack any blondes! Which means he knows it's love too!
Your father seems devoid of any emotion towards your devotion, maybe he's just glad you're not man handling his serums anymore...
You don't miss how Auntie Selina's gaze seemed to snap at you whilst you were mid hang off a balcony, her eyes sharper than usual - actually acknowledging you for once. Usually she just gave you a gift and pampered you before disappearing for a month, yet now she looked at you. Weirdly too. Though, she was the only one to notice you from the ground as you sat in Auntie Harley and Ivy's penthouse, swinging from an apartment 50 stories up. Ivy's vines protectively wrapped around you as you clicked every single movement, every single word, all into hundreds, thousands of photos; all for you!
You dance at the thought, her face covers your room, her face croons in your thoughts, she envelops your entire being, she envelops your life, your world!
She is your world.
You sigh dreamily.
The Cat seemed devoid of any opinion towards your methods, maybe approving, yet she never did say anything. Not to you, not to your father, and not to your now ex-lovers.
Yet, you can't help but frown at the way she seems to appear more and more with your new lover, always there, always lurking. Like she was watching you.
How indecent. What is she, crazy? Stalking you like that. She might as well throw herself in Arkham with the nerve!
Enough about her though, and more about her, your love! Your world!
You sigh dreamily as you snap another photo of her, another moving shot, another one of her leaving Bat Burger with Duke Thomas.
So far, here's what you've learned.
She's 20, she like cats but hates spiders, her order at Bat-Burger -that she never seemed to change- was a cheese burger with no onions and extra crispy fries with ketchup on the side, she does martial arts 5 time a week, she likes mushrooms, she likes the color eggplant - not purple, she likes slippers, she likes sharks, she likes her peas but only if they're separated from the rest of her food, she likes her eggs cooked scrambled with a dash of cheese in them, she likes one piece bathing suits instead of two piece, she wear cotton underwear, she likes letting her hair air dry rather than blow drying or towel drying it, she loves Lefia Coffee. She rubs her hands together and licks her lips when nervous, her eyebrows pinch together when she's lying, and her lips slightly pout at a 22 degree angle when she doesn't get what she wants. She hates cucumbers, she hates Tim- hmmmm, she loves/ hates Tim Drake, her ex-lover. She usually runs with the same group of people, especially at night. Her mom is an addict, her dad is Cluemaster. And at night shes-
It takes you barely a month to figure it out.
A month to see her for what she really is.
A month to finally know the true her, to get her to reveal herself, to get her to open up fully!
And Spoilers!
Shes Spoiler.
You spend a day sitting in the sewers blankly, staring at the grimy, slimy wall, in a place were even taxes can't even reach. Waylon almost doesn't recognize you and tries to eat you, because you're, 'way too tall to be Crane's kid, she's a 2 footer'. But he leaves you alone to stew after a nasty glance.
You could tell Daddy...
But she's yours, not his.
So he'll understand if you don't!
It just means you can be her protector, her guardian angel!
Oh, Stephanie...
You can't imagine how you could be so lucky. To meet her, to watch over her, to protect her, to take photos of her. It was all a dream come true! She was so strong, and so firm, and so gorgeous. Her muscles flexing perfectly through her suit with every movement made. You could collect your drool in jars at this point.
You loved the way her eyebrows furrowed in both confusion, and concern, whenever she found thugs passed out and frothing at the mouth. The cause being a formula of your own design -of course. Attacking them before they could even think to attack her.
Confusion always doused her face, doused her teammates faces. You love how she visibly gets more paranoid, looking around and even hesitating to take her mask off in private before checking each dusty nick and cranny. Because she knows someone is there, she just can't prove it.
And the fear? The paranoia? The way her eyes widen, the way her eyes become hooded with fear whenever she walks into a new gas filled room?
Well! It just courses you with even more excitement than you ever imagine! Maybe this is why Daddy keeps fighting the Bat! They're just so fun to be around! You never even thought you could even have a feeling this riveting, you didn't even feel it with your ex-lovers!
Of course, she'll never find you. Not unless you want her to. Your dad's camera is vined up to the ceiling, and you're never far away, fawning endlessly as you hang on that one abandoned balcony across the street from her apartment.
You changed your whole world so she could be your new one, and she doesn't even know it yet! She doesn't know how you stopped eating cucumbers because she doesn't like the taste of them, she doesn't know how you started drinking coffee just because she likes the smell, she doesn't know how you changed the time you wake up just to catch her heading out on patrol each night, she doesn't know how you touch yourself to her pictures everyday, just so you wont be some 2 second chump when you finally get to her. She'll never know, because when you meet, when you're finally flesh to flesh, she'll think she's found her true love; the most perfect, fun-loving, beautiful girlfriend ever.
And she does.
"Happy 6 months baby." You mummur, kissing her cheek, and fuck she hopes you can't see the red flush that creeps up the back of her neck; tickling her ears.
"Happy 6 months!" Stephanie grins, toothy grin stretching ear to ear as she watches you walk over to refill your oil defuser, "Can't believe we made it past the honeymoon phase, guess we gotta start arguing about me stealing your socks whenever I come over, huh?" He smirks, "Couple tradition."
You raise an eyebrow at her, though a smile splits on your face -playful- closing the diffuser and it starts up again, "You're stealing my socks?"
"Not yet." Stephanie grins, watching you scoff as you walk over to kiss her.
At least, she did.
"Definitely not socks." Steph pants, eyes narrowing at you as you pull a vial out of your jacket, "So not a damn pair of socks. Oh, if I die tonight I'm gonna be so pissed."
You don't answer, gaze scarily hazed over, unperturbed, like you were a million miles away, the gears taking over in your head as you were on another planet. Your fingers stilled, bringing the vial to your face to gaze at. You're on the other side of the room, unmoving, like some kind of statue - and Steph furrows her eyebrows when you glance at her.
Steph grits her teeth, because there's no way that green -totally dooming, ominous looking, green colored liquid swirling in your hands cant be anything good.
She chattering, and she isn't sure if its from rage or wit as she stares at you; nails biting into the palms of her hands when she curls her fists in. Hard.
"When I imagined us fighting, I just thought- y'know, socks, or, who forgot to buy groceries this week. Not-" She swallows harshly, shifting, "Not this. But hey, this just means we're gonna fight our brains out before we team up in the next issue. Huh?"
Steph's eyes don't leave you, sharp. You're all too still, all too quiet. Like a Scarecrow. It's eerie, you're eerie. And it's more than just realizing that she's been dating a villain for 6 months that's scaring her, it's realizing she's dating a stranger.
Your bright smile is gone, filled with a void of what was your true face, filled with distain, filled with a coldness she only saw when staring into the pits of evil, filled with a lackluster that she never thought she'd see in you. Maybe her father, maybe her mother, maybe even Bruce - but not you.
"Daddy was right...the gas, it always sticks." You finally speak, though more so to yourself as you drop your arm; and she hates how she flinches even when you don't drop the vial, "You smelled it. Didn't you?" You tilt your head, gaze creeping into Stephanie's and it feels like you're pulling her soul out.
"You mean that sick fuck is your dad?" Stephanie shivers, "Man, and here I thought the worst thing in your life was the kind of shoes you had to wear to work."
You still, waiting. Watching.
Stephanie tries to ease her heart beat - the one thumping in her ears. She tries to still her brain from running a thousand miles per an hour, she tries to stop the tears threatening to fall from her eyes, she tries to stop the way her body just wants her to stand down. To stand down because it's you.
But you're nothing like she thought you were.
She was dating someone, but it's clear now it was never you. Just some sick figure you made up. Was your name even Y/n?
"You never answered." You chime, finally speaking to her.
Stephanie swallows, "Seriously? Are you seriously urging me to answer you right now, I'm the one who should have all the questions! Tell me the truth, who the hell are you!?"
"Y/n, still just Y/n." You answer with ease, like Stephanie's world wasn't crumbling to pieces. And the way you drawl, the way you answer so calmly? It reminds Steph of a person that makes her stomach churn, "Just Y/n Crane, not..." Your eyes look away, stiffling a chuckle, "L/n."
"Is this some sick joke to you!?" Steph yells, planting her feet on the ground to get ready to dodge if you did through that blasted vial at her.
"No, of course not." You say, calm, too calm, too calm that it makes her blood boil, too calm that it makes her want to scream, too calm that it makes her want to throw her head into the wall. The way you speak, it's like your reciting the weather, like you're the eye of the storm in this hurrican that Stephanie calls her life, "I love you."
Stephanie's blood runs cold at those words, "Y-You-" She takes a deep breathe, trying to even out her vials, even everything out. She needs to stay calm, "You're right. I did. I smelt it on you, I recognized the scent from when that demon of your father hit Red Robin!"
"Meh.." You mumble.
"Y/n-" Steph heistates, swallowing. She can get past this. Bruce fixed Selina, he brought her to the good side, she made her a hero. Or an anti-hero at least...so maybe, just maybe. Please god please, maybe you're just-, "That stuff, the gas." She breathes in, dangerous now that she thinks about it, "It ruins lives, you know that, right? Changes people. Turns them into paranoid wrecks."
Stephanie does not get what she wants.
There's no ephemphany.
No speech about how you're alone
No speech about how you're trapped.
No speech about how you hate your father.
No.
Instead she gets a blood curdling grin.
The way your lips curl up, the way your breath heavied, the way your eyes became half lidded and heavy. It freaked her out. You were looking at her like some piece of meat, some piece of prey, and Steph thinks she's actually going to be sick. Your lips curl up -knowing, sick, taunting. It's inhuman. Taunting.
It's wrong.
This is wrong.
You're wrong.
"Steph, baby~" You croon, and Stephs heart stops when the tone spits out in a way anything but comforting, "You can't be that stupid. I mean sure, I fooled you and your whole family for months...but this-" You gleam, "You found out who I was. You seriously can't think I don't know what this is?" You shake the vial, "Daddy doesn't let me touch it without him, but I've worked with the formula on paper before. I've seen his experiments."
"Oh, jesus we're skipping right to the supervillian monologue then? Fuck- Yea cool, cool- so you've seen what they've done?" Stephanie tightens, her jaw clenching, "I guess I shouldn't really be surprised then, huh?"
"It's okay to be afraid, I can tell you are." You croon, words sweet like a mothers, but tone poisoness as a toads, "Fear makes you predictable, it's how I made you mine." You sigh, looking at the vile in your hands - the chemicals bubbling in excitement as your hand curls around it, "And you were so happy being mine."
"Y/n." Stephanie's tone steady's, she needs to talk you off the edge - so you won't jump, so she won't drown. Her hand reaches out, "I don't know if you've noticed but neither of us are exactly wearing a gas-mask right now. You're going down with me, so just..." She sighs.
"Stephanie!" You grin, eyes suddenly wide as saucers, "You don't really think my Daddy hasn't exposed this to me before, do you?"
Stephanie curls back when you step forwards, eyeing the trench of the couch were she keeps her back up utility belt. Just in case.
Of course, she always thought it would be for break ins, if Joker ever tried pulling a Barbra again, if Harley ever decided to step over line. Not-
Not this.
"That's pretty fucked up." Stephanie tried to reason, backing up towards the compartment, "Your own dad, doing that to you day and night? Y/n-" she breathes, "You know me, you known I've been there -here- in your position before just- We both lost in the parental lottery, just trust me here, now. Let me help you."
"I should be saying that to you." You reason. Your footsteps are slow, controlled - like you're trying not to spook a hurt bat, "You need my help Stephanie. I can help you. Just let me help you." You smile, uncapping the serum in your hands, "I can give you a better life." Your knee hits the couch side table and you lean down, unplugging the diffuser, "A good life."
Stephanie narrows her eyebrows, hand sliding over the back of the couch, "I have a good life. We had a good life, together."
You sigh, shaking your head, "You're acting like Nygma, it was only six months, not 20 years."
"Only six-!?" Stephanie groans, bottom lip falling between her teeth, "Man, you must really hate the color purple, huh?"
You don't answer, only staring at her with some creepy - blanked out expression.
"Well, then you're gonna hate this too!" She yells, hand slipping deep inside the couch, fingers curling around her utility belt, yanking and-
Nothing.
Stephanie pauses, eyes wide on her empty hand.
No way.
No way she missed it, she mapped its location down to the very sofa dent - so-
"Looking for your utility belt?" You taunt, waving the vile around in your hand and Stephanie freezes.
"You-"
"I fed it to Grundy months ago." Your feet click on the ground as you approach her, "I'm sure the explosives gave him an upset tummy, but he's a trooper. You should really see him when he's terrified, he's just so cute. Just like you."
A cold chill runs down Stephanie's spine, yet the rage that ignites within her quickly spools it out; her fists clench, her cheeks burn, her breathe uneven. Everything Bruce taught her runs rampant in her mind,
Number 1?
Don't let anyone figure out your secret identity.
Number 2?
How to beat a bitch up.
A lamp goes flying yet you dodge with ease as Stephanie flips herself over the couch, creating space between the two of you,
"You hay for brains!" She spits, watching you watch her, "You knew!? You knew this whole time!?"
"I knew before we even started dating." You sigh, almost in disappointment, "Honestly, all these Rogues and not one person can figure out even Robins identity? Maybe they need a little fear gas to push their minds farther."
"Did you date me for that then? Because I was Spoiler!?" Stephanie can feel her heart breaking, it's shattering, warping - right their in your living room space. In the living room you help parties in for her friends, the living room you kissed in, the living room you laugh to movies in. It's breaking her, killing her, "It's stupid- what- all of this to just- just to get into the manor!? To take down Batman!?.
"I don't care about Batman." You snap, jaw clenching and Stephanie trembles when your teeth grind together, "Batman, Batman, Batman-" You mock in a high pitched tone, "That's all everyone wants to talk about, all everyone wants to hear when there are such greater options!" Your eyes narrow in on her, you grin, "You."
"Y/n." Stephanie tries to breathe, tries to slow down her heartbeat, anything - really, "Please. This can only end if you want it to. Leave your dad. If you really loved me-"
"If I really loved you!?" You gape, "I stalked you for months!" You challenged, voice raised, aggravated, "If I loved you!? If I loved you?!"
Yikes, that set you off...
"I learned your likes, your distastes, your hobbies-" You hiss, arms flailing, eyes widening, beginning to corner her and she grimaces, "I even went along with your stupid little coffee dates-"
Stephanie gasps, hand flying to her heart, "They weren't stupid!"
"Oh please!" You scoff, rolling your eyes.
"The only stupid thing here is you!" Stephanie challenges, lunging forwards to grab you.
You dodge again, taking a few deep breathes right into the vial; inhaling the smoke wisping out of it like it was candy and Stephanie can't help but cringe when she regains her footing.
"Jesus- guess I see were you brain went wrong now. Huh?" She mutters sarcastically, standing up, "If it didn't start with your literal birth first."
"Ohhhh, if only you knew." You cooed, suddenly doing a 180 in personality again - and it really makes Stephanie wonder if its really fear gas in that container, "I may have not been like this since birth, but my Daddy is one of the smartest chemists in the world. He would do anything to help me succeed."
"Like stalk a girl." Steph grumbled, picking up a vase - not having time to mourn the flowers that go crashing to the floor out of it, "Yea, real father material."
"Not that part silly!" You giggle, "Gosh no! I found you by coincidence, allllll on my own!" You flap your free hand forwards like it was all some silly joke, "You see, I just knew! I saw you in the library months before we met! Just hours later I took his camera and was consulting daddy about drugs to use on you to make you stay. Thats all he did."
Stephanie body freezes, vase in her hand suddenly forgotten about. Your laughter isn't like ice down her veins, no, its like spiders crawling under her skin. The sick horror of your words sticks dead in her stomach, "Drug me? You planned to drug me? What, like some kind of sick experiment? God, what the hell is wrong with you."
"You're struggling to see outside the box that humanity has drawn for you my love!"
"Don't call me that." She snaps, yet her words tremble, her lips quake.
"If I could keep you with me, no one could ever tear us apart." You grin at the thought, spreading your arms out, "We could be together, forever. You could be mine, forever."
Steph grits her teeth, "That sounds a lot more like keeping than loving someone you burlapped sicko."
"It's the same." You flutter, raising the vial above your head; eyebrow raising, "No?
"Wow." Stephanie breathes out, laughter coming out in ragged, disbelieving, breathes, "That true love right there. God, even my stupid relationship with Tim was better than this."
"It is love! I wanted to take away all your worries, control all your fears." You explain, watching Stephanie back up to swap out the vase for a poker stick, "If I did that, no one could ever scare you again. Not Bruce, not your father, not-"
"Let me tell you one thing pumpkin head." Stephanie snapped, re-arming the poker stick in her head, the metal heavy against her hand and her heart, "No one but me, gets to tell me what to do, or what to feel, or even what to be scared of." She scoffs, "But you want a experiment? Sure, I'll show you an experiment."
Stephanie grunts, her arm lunging back as the poker stick went flying through the air. Yet, it didn't hit you - no. It hit the only ceiling light that was on - and during Gotham's cold and bitter nights, it was the only thing that kept anyone sane.
"Lets see how you dance in the dark!" Stephanie called, lunging for you with ease.
Stephanie hits nothing but air, your laughter already dancing through the room like sound taunting melody. She curses under her breathe.
She's been played, tricked, like a simple puppet in your own little puppet show. Sure, you said it was love - and maybe your own twisted version it was. But that's just what it was, twisted.
Chills rack up her spine at the desolate quietness that suddenly hits the apartment, and she somehow feels herself becoming regretful at turning off the lights.
"Come on Steph, you're used to this." She mutters under her breathe, slowing creeping through the living area, "You're a bat, through and through."
Fear is subjective.
Right.
Of course it is.
You said so yourself.
She turns in a slow circle, eyes straining to pierce the suffocating dark. The shadows seem to shift, mocking her attempts at awareness. She takes a steadying breath, trying to focus. It's just fear. Just… fear.
Yet she can't help the way her heart races in her chest, the way her breathes quicken like she had just run a mile - maybe two. She can't help the way her fingers tremble and her muscles quake. Like some shivering bat left laying on the street.
She was alone.
Helpless.
"I'm already acting out your fear." Your voice echos, and Stephanie's fist flies behind her when she feels your breathe on her neck, "Oh, Stephanie..."
Stephanie pants, eyes flaying in the dark; and she yelps when hands suddenly apprehend her. Familiar ones, soft ones, yet their firmer than before, more possessive - demanding - than they use to be. No longer a guide in Stephanie's darkest moments. Only a cage - a trap. And she can't escape it as your lips smash into hers. Its not like their other ones you've shared before. It's not warm like the Christmas fire you cuddled in front of, its not sweet like it would be after Halloween candy, it's not kind, or loving, its rough, harsh, possessive, everything you're not supposed to be.
Stephanie screams into the kiss, pure rage filtering through her as her hands come up to shove. Her chest heaves though, struggles, when her hands go right through you; your form wisping away like a strand of smoke.
No.
Your laughter bellows through the room.
No.
No, no, no, no, no!
Her breath comes too fast, heartbeat jackhammering against her ribs.
"It's not real." Stephanie reasons, closing her eyes, "It's not real, none of this is real, come on Steph! Come on!" Her hands rip through her hair, protecting her ears with shaky hands; protecting them from your laughs, your taunting sweet nothings that somehow seem to echo throughout her mind.
You coo, "Stephanieeeee~ I love you."
Stephanie pants, eyebrows furrowed, sweat dripping down her face in heaps, "Its just some, stupid, classic Scarecrow family move."
"Stephanie, it's okay." You whisper throughout the room, "It's just me. Your baby. Your love."
The laughter follows, warping, distorting. Stephanie Brown’s dealt with fear toxins before. She's dealt with them alone and with her teammates, she's dragged people to safety more times than she could ever count - so why is this so much worse?
Why could she not just-
"You're a bat through and through-" Stephanie forces out, trying to keep herself sane, trying to keep herself here - in this room, even if its with you, "I invented the word stubborn, I can get through this."
Your footsteps echo and Stephanie dares to raise her head. You're dancing - not truly - your distorted, woozy, your very figure taunting as the room spins around her. The shadows laughed at her, the furniture bellowed, her own shadow cackled and morphed around you - wrapping like some sort of scarf.
Like some sort of accessory.
Was that all she was? Some object in your stupid game?
"I am not your item." Stephanie forced, teeth gritted together so hard that pain ripped through her. Her pants were forced, her footing unsteady, yet her fists stayed clenched, "And I'm not your fucking play thing!"
Stephanie pants, staring at the ceiling - her brow covered in sweat. Her hands fumbled, trying to push from invisible force off of her. Eyes half lidded.
Wait- when did she-
"Boo!" You giggle, flashlight illuminating your face like some cheesy campfire story, and Stephanie doesn't even have the strength to move from....
When did she get on the floor?
"Do I look scary?" You giggle happily, happily like Stephanie wasn't halfway into a mental pit right now. Happily like Stephanie's own brain wasn't being assaulted by her own thoughts. Happily like fear gas didn't burn through her lungs like some fucked up source of weed.
It's a shame that the disorientation she was feeling can't stop her from feeling the chill down her spine, the beat of her heart, the tremors in her breathe. You're hovering over her, a grotesque parody of your usual domestic bliss, and Stephanie feels her stomach churn.
"Your pillow...talk..." Stephanie gasps, trying to push out a short quip, a sarcastic line, yet all she does is struggle for air.
"You should probably stay down for now." You smile, "I didn't use fear gas, if you're wondering what's happening with your body." You're all too normal as you switched the flashlight to point up, illuminating you both well enough to see each other. "I am a chemist myself! I'm in college, you know that. So I made something especially for you. A honeymoon gift if you will!"
"You-" Stephanie tries to struggle but her limbs feel like ice, and the coldness is gradually swallowing her up, taking her whole, "You...need serious therapy..."
"Maybe you need some for your avoidantcy issues." You snap, jaw ticking before your face gets that sweet smile again, "Stephanie, baby. All you had to do, was just let me be the perfect girlfriend! I said I hated cucumbers because you hated them, I told you I liked the coffee you liked, I even made sure I was used to you sexually so I wasn't a 3 second chump in bed. Yet, you still just needed to find my imperfections, didn't you?"
What.
What?
Stephanie blinks, struggling to keep you in focus. Sleep beckons her, the dizzying turmoil of the room suffocates her, and her chest heaves as she gasps for breath. The room spins. Stephanie can barely make out your voice through the haze, but what she does understand hits her like a punch to the gut.
"You- y-you-" Stephanie hates how her voice breaks, how the words come out in tremors. "You've… been faking? All of it?"
"For you!" You plead, groaning, hands running down your face, "I didn't even tell Daddy who you were because I wanted you to myself!" You huff, "I just wanted us together, is that so hard to believe? To be in love, in a relationship forever."
Her voice shakes with anger, with grief, "Are you hearing what you're saying!? You can't just fake a relationship!"
Stephanie takes a slow, shuddering breath, trying to push past the nausea churning in her stomach, the exhaustion pulling at her limbs. Yet she cries out, head jerked back and scalp burning when you're suddenly in her face.
You seethe, "What do you not understand!? I did this because I love you!"
"Love?" She snaps, trying to jerk back, yet you're strong - stronger than usual, "You- you dick- you manipulated me! You made me think I was in a normally curated relationship! That it was made through memories and love! But all along you were just playing with my emotions like some kind of damned puppet!" Her voice cracks, and she can't hold in her sobs anymore when she shakes her head, "How can you call that love?"
"You were happy, content." You urged, shoving her down and letting sure drop to the floor with a wince, "I didn't even look for a tinge of fear on your face for any second we were together! I let you be free from fear as much as possible! No matter how pretty I thought you would look afraid, scared, trembling in your own excrement, and now you're mad at me!?"
"You think be being happy in fake bliss is good?" Steph struggles, words blazing, eyes wet and weeping, "Don't you get it! Your whole sick game is just some big ticking time bomb! Happiness? Love? It shouldn't be built on lies!" She grits her teeth, "you're sick."
You blink at that, your frozen face swirling in her mind; your body just out of reach as you walk away - leaving Stephanie wailing on the floor. Sluggish, trembling, alone.
Your mutters are heard, echoing though out her mind like some distant memory as she just lays there; nails digging into her own thighs as much as they could to try and keep herself awake, try and keep herself grounded.
"I need to run more tests...experiment more..."
"More I need more!"
Stephanie gurgles, lungs reaching, scraping, struggling for pure air. Her arms lunge, her fingers scratch, yet her body and foreign hands keep her down, keep her trapped.
"Stephanie! Stephanie-" A male voice gurgles, and its familiar, tight, present, "You're alright, you're going to be alright, It's okay, it's okay-"
Maybe its the shame that makes her collapse, makes her lay there as her vision stays blurred at the edges. Maybe its the anger. Maybe its the grief for someone who never truly existed. Grief for the relationship that was never even true.
Whatever it was, your smile still lingered in her mind.
Your real one, she means.
The one that stabbed at every wall of her mind like some kind of Bat sense, the one that made it feel like cockroaches ran under her skin, the one that made it feel like bile was building up in her throat.
So, she could only sit there, on your couch - if it even was your apartment - as Tim held a breathing mask to her face; comforting her like he would so many years ago. Cass and Duke pillaging through the apartment for any clues they could find. Dick mid phone call with Bruce - the Bat currently residing in the watchtower halfway to the moon by now.
"I'm such a fucking idiot." Steph muttered, and she doesn't even have the decency to push Tim away when he hugs her harder.
"It's not-" Tim struggles, from anger, or sadness, or pity - she doesn't know, but he struggles, "It's not your fault."
"She was fucking sneaky. I'll tell you all that." Duke probed, walking in with Cass a few feet behind, "Only trace of chemicals is from that freaky ass diffuser right that. Didn't even have vials in her cabinet." He groans, "Or anything else for that matter, chicks a freak."
"She covered her tracks well." Tim muttered.
"Exactly." Duke nodded.
Cass signed something, her fingers moving in quick succession and Tim could only breathe in a sigh of relief.
"Agreed." Duke cursed under his breathe, "Good to know that Steph is safe, but I still think we should find this level shit-head and beat the mother fucking guts outa her."
"Just glad your safe." Tim mumbled, giving Steph a little squeeze and peck on the forehead, "Right here with-"
"Meeeeee! Hurray!" You squealed in a sing song voice, clapping your hands together; lips pulling away from Steph's forehead.
"When did she even make that." Edward twitched, his eyes expectedly traced on you as you danced happily around the chair Stephanie was in; words meant only for Crane's ears, "That brat isn't even allowed in your lab."
Crane just hummed in thought, your orange vial held high in his hands; chin pinched in thought.
"Don't worry Steph!" You giggle, encapsulating each of her shoulders with a hand.
Your form loomed over her slouched one, like a gargoyle, or some ominous shadow from behind. You hum, leaning down. Her skin is soft as your hands trace down her arms, each little goose pump bumpy against your fingers. You race all the way down to her metal restraints -cold, locked. All the way down to the IV stuck into her arm, pumping in the orange serum like it was candy.
"I'll keep you." You grin, kissing her cheek again - and she sighs contently in her sleep, "Here. Forever. And you can stay happy, truly happy, in your little fantasy world for as longggg as you'd like."
Nygma's brows furrow slightly, more so from confusion at how any of this had even happened in 6 short months.
Crane hummed in content, eyes trained on you. Locked on you. Like some sort of specimen.
"Interesting." Crane mutters, "It appears the apple sha'll not fall far from the tree."
Heya I was reading one of your Tim fics and saw you were in an awful accident back in May or so? And that you got hospitalized again almost two weeks ago. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were doing okay! :(
Worried about me? Oh my gosh, guysssssss
But yes! I actually got hospitalized again for a different reason but I'm doing much better now! I locked in now guys, lets get the freak on...
Characters: Tim Drake x ??? GN!Reader
Summary: For years, Tim has made up an imaginary romantic partner in the deepest pits of his mind. A partner who was always there for him, a partner who would always care for him, a partner who would always nurture him. A partner who was there when he broke up with Stephanie, then when he broke up Bernard, and then even when he broke up with Conner. Tim always spoke about them, spoke about them like they were real. And they're someone he's been bragging about, someone he's been telling stories about to his family for months. Now the family wants to meet them - you - someone who was never real. And just as Tim's about to break the lie at family dinner, someone familiar shows up at the Wayne family door.
Warnings: Gaslighting, stalking, manipulation, I got lazy at the end.
A/N: I must've reminded you of your guy's dads with how I disappeared LMAO. Pro-Tip! If you're trying to figure out what's happening early on, look at the smallest of details.
Tim Drake met you 2.7 seconds ago.
Yet the bright smile on your face, the crinkle under your eyes, the ding that scatters throughout your words suggests otherwise.
It suggests that you've known him for months, years even.
Your arms are wrapped around his torso, lips pressed to his cheek.
"Sorry I'm late, I totally got lost!" You blabber, pulling back from him as you adjust the pie-tin in your hands, "Gosh, I know you said that the property could be scary at dusk but I totally underestimated you. Guess I know why you were so shocked seeing my house now." You groan, biting your lower lip with a sheepish giggle, "Maybeeee...I should've taken your offer to let Alfred come get me, huh?"
Tim Drake met you 1.27 minutes ago.
Yet, he's known you for months, years even.
Or at least it feels like it.
He can barely breathe, barely blink, as he watches you turn to his now gaggle of a family - mouths dropped open at the fact that you're real.
The worst part?
Tim can't help but join them.
Because up to 2 minutes ago, you only existed in his mind. In his twisted, creeped out, mind. You only existed in the twisted lies he told his family, the white lies he told Bernard, the snorted brags he told Stephanie, the tall stories he told Duke when the younger asked for dating advice.
He doesn't know what to do, he had been freaking out over a different reason for the past two days. Well, freaking over the fact that you're not real.
Now he's freaking over the fact that you are.
Somehow.
Someway.
"Holy shit they're real." Duke surmises, halfway to dropping the spatula in his hand before Dick quickly fixes it for him; just as he does for the whole situation,
"Hey," The acrobat is quick to greet, squeezing through his bundle of siblings like he wasn't the most agile man on the planet to extend his hand out, to offer that charming, boyish grin of his, "Name's Dick. I'm Timbo's older brother. I've heard a lot about you." He chuckles, "All good things of course."
"Awww!" You gush, and something churns in Tim's brain, something almost familiar at the noise, something at the look of you as you grab Dicks hand, at the sight of your cheeks flushing, "He calls you Timbo? That's so cute!" There's an awkward giggle that leaves your mouth when you turn towards Dick, "Sorry..."
Dick laughs a little as you both shake hands, "All good."
"Yea, we all know Timbo's cute." Jason scoffs through chews, not burdened enough to put down a bread roll.
"Drake astounds us again." Damian murmured, taking up your appearance with a sharp glare.
"I'm Tim's partner." You add in gleefully as Dick lets go of your hands.
"I can't believe they're real!" Stephanie whisper yelled, eyes darting back and forth between Steph and Duke, "And actually good looking!"
Duke snorts and Cass nods.
"Who cares about that." Damian spits under his breathe as you and Dick continue to talk gleefully, "Father should've run tests on them before they were even allowed into the estate-"
"Oh here it goes again." Jason sarcastically quipped, hitting Damian on the shoulder lightly.
Damian smacks him back, eyebrows furrowing, "Have you lost all your training you dirt heavy idiot, we shouldn't let unidentified idiots into the house!" He huffs, crossing his arms, "Even if Drake swoons over them like a lost swan."
Stephanie raises an eyebrow, glancing at Cass, "Aren't swans gay?"
"Are they?" Duke questions.
"Was that a jab at Tim's sexuality?" Steph teases, putting on a playful pouted front, "That's not very accepting of you Damian. Say, like how Tim may accept an assassin into his home?"
Damian just deadpanned at her.
"Not cool dude." Duke shook his head, easily joining into Steph's antics, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Shouldn't of all people, you should know love is love, huh?" Jason adds on, clearly keeping a snort down as he chides, "Look at your pare-"
"And I brought pie!" You gleefully chatter, raising the pie tin.
Damian pauses.
Damians ears perk up.
Damians legs suddenly move, scurrying over and snatching the tin.
"They can stay." He states blandly, not taking two seconds to scurry back into the kitchen.
You barely falter, "I hope I'm not stepping on Alfreds toes, I know he usually cooks but Timmie said I could bring something if I wanted."
"Tim-mie?" Duke cocks his head, smirk rising on his face.
"Timmie's right." Jason adds standing up from his leaned posture against the wall, "I'm sure Timmie loves the pie." He turns his head towards his younger brother, frozen, blood drained, "Right, Timmie? Looks like Timmie does, huh?"
Tim doesn't answer, how could he?
Your eyes meet his, and there's recognition in yours, love. You smell so nice, and your hair is done up so well - he can tell you've been waiting for something, waiting for this day.
That is, until you see his - confused, scared.
And your smile drops.
Dick's quick to do damage control.
"Bruce is late." Dick grabs both your and Tim's right shoulders, grounding the both of you, "Like usual." He groans before offering an awkward grin, "So why don't you two love birds head off for a bit? Alfred is still cooking anyways.
"What!?" Stephanie gasps, quick to squirm against Dicks grasp as he grabbed her and Duke by the arms - walking by without a stich, "What! But I wanna! Dick no-! No, No, No-! Dick Please- Pleaseeee!?"
Stephanies begs continued down the hallway all to the kitchen, Duke joining in every once in awhile as Cass followed along. Jason quick to stalk after.
Your eyes shy away, like you're on the edge of doing something wrong in his eyes. Tim swallows something deep in his throat, because in your eyes - with how he must've been looking at you - you may have already felt like you were.
"Tim?" You mutter, tilting your head shyly and something tickles in his brain.
Tim Drake is a single loser.
Sure, he dated Stephanie, and he dated Bernard, hell - he even had something with Conner at one point long ago. But he's been single long enough that he started lying to his family about it.
He doesn't even remember when it started. Every time he was alone, every time he was stressed, every time his shoulders ached, and the weight felt like too much - he imagined you.
Well different versions of you.
Your age changed as he grew -obviously- and his tastes turned, morphed, formed into different aspects of your body and his tastes. Each year he matured, so did you - age, mind, and body. Each year he got a new haircut, a new trim? So did you. Even each year that he went without going back to school? You were either taking a GAP year, or exploring a new college.
Tim knows he's crazy, he knows he's particular.
Particular in the way your hairstyle has changed a few times, particular in the way your teeth have morphed and shaped in his mind, particular in the way you giggle, the way you laugh, particular in the way you feel - if you had calluses or not.
Tim's thought about everything.
Every variation of you.
Tim's heard of Maladaptive daydreaming, of course he has.
He's also aware he's far too deep into the rabbit hole of it to ever get out.
Phone calls, conversations, the way you did you hair, the foods you liked to eat, how you would respond toa= arguments, to compliments, to insults, to other people hitting on you, your hobbies.
He's imagined it all.
And for the past six months.
He's imagined you.
Your cheeks flush and he realizes he's been staring you down in silence for so long that even he shifts awkwardly, clearing his throat before he makes his gaze less known.
Your hair is styled just down to the inch of what he imagined it to be, the angle, the style - and based on the smell? Even the hair oils he had imagined you would use were right. Your lips curl in the way he thought they would, the color soft and just right. Your eyes are freckled with just the right amount of grey, and even your clothes match the exact taste he would've given to you.
How are you here?
How are you real?
Are you real?
Is Tim in a Coma?
He groans, running his hands down his face and you perk up; and he hates how he can feel your eyes scurrying across his face worriedly.
How did this even all start?
3 days ago...
It was a lively day at the Wayne mansion, and hell, that said a lot considering almost everyone there had died once. Even Duke warily counted down the days for his time, anxiously glancing at dark corners from time to time.
It was also a lively day due to the fact Tim, for the first time in ten months, finally agreed to bringing a date to a gala.
Not just a date.
His partner.
"Partner huh?" Stephanie teases, fingers wiggling like worms - a parasite, "You're telling me you have a date to the gala?"
Tim only mutters, head spinning at the small white line finally coming undone. Fake texts? He could do that. Fake calls? Sure. Fake stories? Done and buried.
Yet making you reality?
Tim tried to ignore the dizzying sensation bubbling up in his throat, head turning as he tried his best to ignore her.
"Drakes lying." Damian states, eyebrow raising curiously, "I can tell." Tim winces and his brother continues, "His eyes are shifting."
"Maybe he just has shifty eyes." Dick teases, taking a lanquid sip of coffee before continuing, "Isn't that right? Timbo?"
If Tim could choose between fighting Scarecrow - hell, even the Joker - and this? He would choose the former. He'd rather being getting a face full of mayo with condiment man right now and he hates the eggy condiment.
It's slimy, digsuting.
Just about how he feels right now.
How he feels after lying to his family for months, lying to his friends.
And honestly?
Getting so attached to someone who wasn't real. He felt like one of those losers attatched to an AI chatbot.
"They're real." Tim pushes, eyebrows furrowing when he hears a small scoff from behind him - Jason, "And I don't need to prove that to you just to valdiate myself."
"Oh but you do." Jason challenges, barely looking up from his book at the kitchen countertop, "Don't you?"
Damian scoffs, throwing his nose up him, "Not everyone's as conceited as you Todd."
Jason snaps his head up, "Hey-" He narrows his eyes, "Watch it brat."
"Except Drake." Damian smirks, practically gleaming with pride and Jason grumbles, "Of course. He would not be himself without it."
The younger grunts when Dick suddenly scuffs him on the shoulder, balancing his coffee in one hand,
"Stop it. All of you." Dick huffs slightly, but its not devoid of amusement, not devoid of disbelief - he smirks, taking another sip, "I'm sure Tim wouldn't lie. Not like that, at least."
"Thank you." Tim mutters, shadowing his face with his hand.
"Orrrrr..." Stephanie grins tauntingly, "He just made up some rando to not seem like a total chum!"
"Obsessive much?" Tim muttered, barely looking up from the counter, "You're acting like you're more jealous than anything, Spoiler."
"Jealous!?" Steph practically bellowed, laughing in his ear, "Yea." Steph scoffed, "Of your audacity."
"Both of you." Dick cut in, a sigh cutting through the air as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "You need-"
"I may have lied about things before, but I wouldn't lie about this." Tim urged, "They're real, and I don't appreciate you starting a man hunt of my emotions to find them."
"Why not show them off then?" Stephanie huffs, arms crossing across her chest, "Everyone likes it when their partner is happy enough to let them meet each others families."
"I don't know." Tim scoffed, head finally tilting up at her, "Maybe because you're-" He paused, prusing his lips - head snapping away, "I don't have to say anything to you."
"Ooooo-" Steph sang, Jason perked up - eyebrow raised, "He's deflecting."
"Why would I lie like that?" Tim stood, "About anything? Especially this?"
"Perhaps, Drake." Damian cut in, smirking slightly, "You are jealous of Stephanie and her new found relationships."
Tim audibly scoffed, "Am not-"
"You soooo are!" Stephanie giggled, relishing the moment - clearly.
Tim's jaw clenched, "No I'm not."
"You totally-!"
"Both of you." Dick swept in, harsh and cut; both of them stopped, "Stop."
Stephanie huffed, lowering lips curling out, puffing, turning into a pout. Tim crossed his arms, turning away as he muttered under his breathe.
"This isn't how you should be behaving." Dick sighed, snapping his head back when he saw Stephanie open her mouth to bite, "either of you."
"You're being stupid anyways." Jason snorted, page crinkling as he turned it and he cringed, "You'll just see them at the stupid gala anyways."
"Not that I'd want to bring them anyways." Tim muttered, grimacing when he heard Stephanie giggle behind him, "It would be weird."
"Whats weirder is you having a partner." Damian snarked, "Drake. Getting all romantic. Not depressed. Nor weepy."
"Or alone." Stephanie snickered, adding on to Damians taunts.
"You haven't even met them." Tim sputtered, "Why the hell would I bring them to a gala? With what? Media? Press?" Tim groaned, "You?"
"It would be weird if you brought them." Dick shook his head, dumping his now empty cup in the sink, "Think about the articles."
"Would be better than the ones now." Jason snickered, still not looking up from his books.
"I agree." Damian agreed, though he scoffed ever so slightly; arms crossed, "Somewhat. A stranger showing up would only sully the family name."
Bruce Wayne, the big bat bat; walking in tall and proud. His stature proud, his suit sharp, and everybody couldn't help but fall silent in his wake.
"Father." Damian greeted curtly, standing up from the counter. His tone quickly changed though, "You can't be serious." he searched the room, scouring, looking for a shared thought in the room.
"You're inviting a stranger into the house?" Jason scoffed, "You. Bruce Wayne? Stick in the ass?"
Dick quirked an eyebrow, giving his brother a knowing look.
"It's only right we meet them." Bruce surmised, fixing his tie as he headed over to the pot of coffee. His expression barely changed, ignoring Dick as he chuckled sheepishly- the pot now empty, "This...mystery person."
"So even the big bat bat couldn't find them." Dick grinned, smile strecthing across his enter face, "Who would believe that? Bruce wayne. Deterred."
"Like you didn't try too." Jason scoffed.
"Like you didn't either." Damian spat right back at him, Jason returning the sentiment with an eyeroll.
"Tim I expect to meet this person." Bruce stood firm, ignoring the others, and Tim hopes to god he also ignores how his Adams apple bobs in his throat. Bruce can only raise an eyebrow, "And I hope you've already done all the necessary background checks."
"Yea-" Tim mutters, struggling to keep his voice even "Yea- Yea, of course-"
"Then I expect to see them." Bruce intervened again, raising his hand when Damian tried to speak, "Saturday night dinner."
A chorus of groans.
"But-!" Steph tried, and Bruce shook his head.
"I actually have to..." Dick chuckled awkwardly when Bruce glanced at him.
Damian tried next, "Father, you-"
"Give me 50,000 dollars and maybe." Jason monotonely shot out, earning shared looks from everyone. He scoffed, raising an eyebrow, "what, I'm not cheap."
Tim swallowed.
Something soft brushes against his cheek, cradles it, and the warm touch makes him shiver back to reality - bringing him right back here, to you.
"Tim?" Your gaze ruffles him, and you eventually land right on his shoulder - he stiffens, "Whats wrong? Does it still hurt?"
"I-" Tim furrows his eyebrows.
He wants to disect you, not in a weird way, but you're in his home, with his family, and the biggest secret Gotham could ever harbor sleeping right under your feet.
So he asks the big question out loud,
"Who are you?"
You blink.
Maybe he should've just played through the night like some big joke, like he wasn't a big enough one already.
"Tim-" You chuckle uneasily when he pushes your hand away from him -albeit gently, "You can't be serious?"
He can't let his heart play this out.
Tim sucks in a deep breath, looking you over, "Who are you?"
He's supposed to be the logical Robin, the one who thinks things out.
Your eyes widen, and he feels something churn in his gut.
He's not supposed to be Impulsive.
So why did he want to run into your arms? Why did he want to take in your scent? Why did he want to leave right now - away from his family, just for the night - and take you with him?
"Tim-" You stutter, mouth open yet no sounds coming out.
"How did you know I hurt my shoulder?" Tim pressed, ignoring how you taking a step back from him made him want to surge towards you, "I didn't tell anyone that, not even Alfred."
You shake your head, eyes wide - and he can tell you want to reach out to him as much as he wants to you, "Tim, please don't tell me you're doing this now." Your voice breaks, "I-I know you said you were nervous about me meeting your family, but you can't actually be pretending to not know me?"
He just stares at you, eyebrows crinkling, eyes drawn to your hands. Even the way you move them, even the way you talk with them, its right down to the very details etched deep into his brain.
"And I was the one who patched you up dummy!" You whisper yell, taking a step towards him - like it was one big secret, and it was because, "You came to my window after Bruce told you not to go out because you were sick!"
Tim jerked slightly, and he can't help the way his whole body gives away his surprise, "I- what-"
Sick.
Patrol.
Shoulder.
How did you know about that?
Sick
Patrol
Shoulder.
He had a fantasy that you, you who isn't even real -or now wasn't real- helped patched him up. Helped take off his uniform, helped him take a bath, helped him wrap up his arm before sending him off more exhausted and content than before; but that wasn't real.
This wasn't real.
Sick
It couldn't be.
Patrol-
You're not real.
Wait-
Tim's blood runs cold, and he can feel a blade of ice run down his back.
It takes a second for him to gain his bearing, to find his voice, to actually answer you, "You know I'm Red Robin?"
Something clicks on your face, not the look of being caught in a lie, or being caught doing something wrong. You don't even look a tiny bit like you've stepped over the line and you've realized it. You just look worried, and scared. And when your hands fumble together? When they pull close to your heart as you back away? He doesn't like how something in him breaks. The same way it would break when he saw Bernard scared, or Stephanie bleeding out on some random, dim-light rooftop.
You voice the feeling outloud, voice shaky, body crowded in, lurched back, "You're scaring me Tim."
"I'm sorry." The words spill out before he can even think, yet his mind reels, it bends, and it almost feels like something - or someone- is haunting it when he runs his hands down his face, "Oh god-" He clenches his teeth, his jaw tweaks, "I'm going crazy."
Was this real?
Could this be real?
You're not real though.
You're not supposed to be.
It feels like all his memories are suddenly a million miles away.
God.
He runs his hands down his face, eyes peering at you in a way he can only hope isn't predatory.
God, he wished for so many nights, for so many days that you were real. That you were real and present. That you smell was real, that your laugh was real, and even the stupid, cliche, problems of you stealing his clothes was real.
But it wasn't.
Something in him aches.
He wished but-
His eyes widened.
Oh god, please don't say its one of those 'One Wish Willow' moments and he had totally just taken over some random persons body.
But you looked just like his dreams.
Exactly so.
It was creepy almost.
And unless he accidentally was thinking of some random model then-
Your smell hits him out of his daze, your warmth.
"Did you hit your head...again?" You ask awkwardly, and he realizes that you're back in front of him again - cautious, but caring, worried.
And it makes him feel like a dick.
Lowercase, not uppercase - Grayson would never make someone feel like this.
Tim winces, god...he's such an asshole
"No I-" Tim scans you, uncertainty lacing his voice - god you're so pretty, "Look, I don't know how you got here, or even god- even who you are. But you need to go? Okay?" His hands come out, nudging you towards the door, "Go home."
"What?!" You suddenly burst, and Tim's honestly startled, "Are you serious!? I thought you were just joking before, but you're actually sending me home?!"
Tim starts, "Look I'm worried that you're just-!" His head whips around to the kitchen that's suddenly all too close.
"God, I know you were nervous before but this is such an asshole move." You spat, your face becoming red with anger now, "My family loved meeting you!"
"I've met your family?!" He squeaks.
"Yes!" You scoff, throwing your hands out, "And I've waiting so long to meet yours, and now you're what? Bailing on me day of?!" You scoff, surging forwards as you point to an imaginary watch on your wrist, "Not even day of, hour of! Hour after because-" You suddenly stop and Tim pauses when he sees tears beginning to flood in your eyes, "Because I got lost, and was late, and I felt like such a shitty partner, and now you're doing this to me!"
Tim heart was beating in his chest.
Think
Think
Think
God Tim, you're fucking Red Robin for christs sake!
His eyes glance nervously between you and the kitchen door, and before he can even think he's grabbing you by the upper arms - pulling you close. He cringes when you look up at him, not at you - no. He cringes at the fact that grabbing you and pulling you closer against your will - even though you do so placidly- it doesn't feel wrong at all.
"I even brought a pie-" You sob, hands coming up to try and dry your tears - and when it doesn't work, you sniffle, "And it's a nice one too! From that luxury bakeshop in upper Gotham because I didn't want to get your family a cheap one and look like some bitchy gold digger-"
Tim couldn't hide his surprise, that place was pricey, "God you went there?"
"Yes!" You do a half sputter and spat, "Yes Tim, I did go there! And you know why? Because I want your family to like me, and you don't even want me to meet them!"
"I do-" Tim says placidly, rearranging the both of you so you're hidden behind a large pillar - though he doubts it'll do anything in this house hold, "I do!"
You turn your head away, lip curled into a pout, "You have a fun way of showing it."
"I know, I'm sorry-" Tim pacifies, his thumb pressing into the skin on your arm like an anchor, "I'm sorry." He mutters again, lost for words. He just- he needs to just get through this, send you home, "Look, I just freaked out. You know how my family is."
You just glare up at him.
"Let me give you the 50." Tim blurts out and he feels you jerk under his grip.
"What no!" You scoff, eyes looking over his expression - like you were looking for a sly smile or end of the joke.
"Please just-" Tim sighs, gritting his teeth.
He's not angry at you, and for some reason, he feels he could never be. Like the emotion would only be foreign, wrong, egregious, when faced towards you. He's mad at himself, his brain, the fact that this- whatever this is, is happening. Did he really just...forget you...? He remembers you, but he also remembers that you're not real, you're fake. Was this some messed up mind trick, was he under the mercy of well, a Black Mercy? When? How?
"Take the money and go home." Tim sighs, "Back to your family, back to where you're supposed to be. I can uh-" He hesitates and you frown, "Call you...later?"
"You send me out now and you might as well never call me again." You huff, "Besides its a gift from me to your family, who I'm supposed to be meeting by the way. A gift to you, my boyfriend! Who I-" You hesitant, voice getting quiet as you suddenly glance over to the closed kitchen door, "Who I love."
Tim freezes, eyes going wide.
Oh.
His heart picks up, and the words have an honest to god affect on him. So much so that he almost feels horrible about it.
You had never said that in his dreams before.
Never.
He can feel his face burning, and he hopes to hell you don't' see it as you turn your face away. Yet, he can hear you giggle ever so slightly, a giggle that would be given to something expected - like he had done this over and over again with you.
"Unless..." You coo, grabbing his hands into yours and he swears he's about to explode right there. How could he not? You're literally his dream partner. Literally. Yet the shame kicks in. The lies. God what was happening? "If you just wanted the gift to be from the both of us, in that case, we could just get married right now." Your eyes bore into him, "The whole families here anyways."
Tim blinks, "What?"
You blink, "Huh...?"
He groans.
Okay, Tim takes a deep breathe in - think Drake. If you're just how he thought right down to the clothes and personality, maybe other parts were real too.
Tim rakes his brain for anything, any moment, any thought he ever had about you, "Do you remember when we went to the bookstore together?"
You scrunch your nose up, "Huh?"
"The bookstore." Tim pushes, "I know we've gone a lot together but do you remember when that girl hit on you?"
You blink, and for a moment he thinks you've been had before your eyes suddenly curl up and you start giggling; covering your mouth with your hands,
"You mean when you stood up from under the table after tying my shoe, and she ran like she saw a ghost?"
Tim grinned slightly at your laughter, "Yea, and she reported us to the librarian because she thought I was-"
Tim smacks himself on the face and you gasp.
So you remembered his made up scenarios too?
They were all honestly, cringy, horrid. Something a horned up, incel, teen, would make up.
He scans you again, and you raise an eyebrow - less pissed now.
Tim chuckles awkwardly, "How many siblings do you have again?"
"Seriously?" You raise an eyebrow, "Tim you've met my whole family before."
"I know- uh- I just-"
"Ahem."
Both of your heads snap around, met by the familiar picture - atleast to Tim- of Alred standing there. Tim quickly letting go of your hands as you scoff at him, Alfred only clearing his throat again,
"Dinner, is served."
"So," Bruce starts, fork tapping at his plate - much unlike how Tim's was barely even picked up, "I hear you're in college for Psychology."
"I am." You nod, fork stabbing into some vegetables on your plate, "I go to Gotham U."
"Gotham U?" Dick chews on his food, leaning forwards to snuff out the only candle on the table without a word, "You must be pretty smart then." He grins, "Psychology too? Nice."
"Heard it was Computer Science before that." Jason puts out, slouched slightly over the table as he stabbed boredly at his food.
You grin, glancing over at Tim and he smiles weakly, "So he told you that I switched-"
Jason raises an eyebrow, "Then Chemistry, huh? You- shit!"
The table thumps at the exact moment Jason winces, grimacing his teeth at Stephanie next to him; and it doesn't take an Einstein to figure out what exactly had just happened.
And it didn't take a Aristotle to figure out that Jason was only behaving because Bruce was there.
Tim could feel his already risen blood pressure rising, god he's gonna puke.
"At least they actually went to college Todd." Damian struck in, and Jason scoffed, "They don't keep their heads in books all day."
"Oh please, when the hell did you take their side?" Jason urged, pointing a sharp finger at you, "You all whipped because of some berry pie now? Guess that's what Alfred used to tame you, huh?"
Tim watched Damian barely consume the urge to stab the table with the knife, glancing between you and Bruce, "Watch your tongue before you lack it Todd."
"I love books!" Stephanie jerked out loudly, a sheepish yet awkward laugh forcing out of her, "And this food, mmmmm. Alfred is just such a good cook." She turned her head towards Cass, "Don't you agree Cass?"
Cass nodded quietly.
Tim sent over a silent, thankful, plee towards Stephanie and she nodded discreetly; giving him a little wink. God she could be annoying, but she was always there for him. He couldn't deal with his siblings antics while trying to find out who you were.
Was it magic? An illusion? Some deep dream?
He pinches himself and ignores the weird look he gains from Duke.
"Do you mind me asking why you didn't go to college Jason?" You ask, and it doesn't take a second for everyone to tense up - awkwardness thick in the air. Dick forced a porkchop down his throat, you smile, "From what Tim tells me, you're very well versed in literature. I'm surprised you're not going for an English degree."
"He was just-" Tim struggles, well for one, he died, two - he runs his own group literally called the Outlaws, "He just has a job already, he's never been really interested."
"Yea." Jason agreed gruffly and the whole tabled nodded.
"He finds his efforts better spent elsewhere." Bruce added rather agily, his words smooth like water.
"He had some trouble in his youth too." Damian smirked a little.
"Damn, seems the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Duke snorted, "Huh?"
You look around in confusion, eyes glancing everyone and Dick catches your gaze.
"You alright?" Dick offers, and half the color is already gone from his face. Forced grin stretched across it.
You lean into Tim instead and he freezes, he hates the fact that your breathe against his ear does something to him,
"Are they talking about him dying?" You mutter, words thick with something else, "Did you not tell them I know?"
Tim eyebrows shoot up.
"You told them!?" Damian erupts next to you.
"He told them!?" Stephanie gasps, sputtering as her chair screeched back, "Tim you cunt!"
"Bro, what the fuck!?" Duke groaned, hands running down his face, "I have one cousin left, one! If he dies I'm done! I ain't living in this crazy fucking house! No way!"
"Oh you would love the jump off a bridge again, Narrows!" Jason narrowed his eyes, voice loud, "Don't even lie!"
"I didn't-" Tim started, trying to speak over everyone else, "I didn't! I never would-"
Everyone started bickering, yelling, screaming even. Yet you just sat there, looking around sheepishly. Dick just sat there, looking at Bruce - a hefty sigh leaving him. And Bruce just sat there, sipping his water.
Bruce swallowed.
He sighed.
His glass clinked in its place at the sturdy oak table.
"Enough."
Crickets.
"Father." Damian protested, pointing a finger at Tim, "He told them our secret!"
Tim could feel his stomach churning, "I didn't!"
Dick started, "Bruce-"
"Everyone sit down." Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Chairs scrapped, throats cleared, and an awkwardness settled amoungst everyone, "It's fine."
Silence.
Dick scoffs in disbelief, "Unbelievable, you knew they knew."
"You think I would let someone into this house without the proper precautions?" Bruce offered an amuse chuckle, "You never fail to amuse me, Dick."
"You did a background check?" Tim blurted out, and he hopes to hell his relief isn't evident.
"Of course he did." Steph muttered, slumping in her chair.
"It wasn't that, that gave it away though." Bruce added, gaze turning towards Tim and you, "Was it, you two?"
Tim blinks, turning towards you, recognition suddenly burning through his eyes, "We met after Scarecrow attacked me with his gas."
"Wait- wait- wait-" Stephanie lunged her hand forwards, making everyone look at her, "Holy crap! I was so wowed by Tim actually having a date that I forgot to ask for all the juicy details!"
"Thanks." Tim deadpanned and he could hear Jason snickering.
"Why of course." Stephanie winked, "Now shut up." She turned towards you, "How did you guys even meet?! You're not like some- I don't know-"
"Secret vigilante too?" Duke offered with an eyebrow raise.
Stephanie nodded.
"Gosh no." You snort, turning towards Tim and he stays silent.
He remembers how you met, or well, how you supposedly did.
It was dark out, after midnight - maybe around three P.M. in the narrows-
"-That's where I live." You continue his thoughts, looking towards Duke sheepishly, "I've actually seen you around before, I've had a few conversations with your Cousin too. So when I made the connection - it was honestly more funny than surprising."
"Seriously?" Duke blinks.
"I'm pretty sure Tim was actually trying to get to your apartment," You mutter slightly, looking at him, "But he says he can't remember."
"Yea..." Tim muttered breathlessly, gaze firm on you when you look back towards his family, "I did...didn't I?"
Tim was hit with fear-gas that night, a new dose, a high dose. Something even the antidote he carried in his belt could barely beat the edges of.
"So then I think he lost focus and he slammed straight into my bedroom window," You explain, hands coming to slap together like some demonstration, "I mean like, straight into it. The glass shattered after a little but he fixed it later so it was fine."
"Ohhhhhhhh!" Stephanie's mouth turned into an 'O', realization finally hitting her in the face, "So he kept visiting you, that's what happened?"
You grin, "Exactly!"
"Tim you pervert." Jason added sarcastically, "Bet he wanted to see-"
"Jason." Bruce warned and Jason grumbled, slumping back again.
You begin again, "Anyways, since he already had his masked pulled up-"
"You already knew who I was." Tim finished, and the smile you gave to him when he did melted something deep within him, "And so when I stopped visiting you came and found me."
"I see." Dick teased, watching every single detail on his brothers face, "Well. Tim does need a person who knows what they want. Don't you Timbo?"
"Y-Yea..." Tim muttered, eyebrows arching down as you continued to chatter with his family; you and Stephanie laughing about something he couldn't comprehend.
The fear gas.
He had been hit with it before, many times in fact. He saw crows, monsters, and even the death of his parents time and time again. The death of Bruce too, Dick, Jason, hell - even Damian. It was generic things, things anything would be scared of. Things he was scared of.
That new compound.
Did it have a new effect on him?
Tim was hit with the new mixture six months ago, the exact six months ago you said they met, the exact sixth months ago he had fought Scarecrow.
Initially he thought he had just dreamed you helping him, dreamed him fixing your window, dreamed you cornering him in the library days later, dreamed the anxiety of you blabbing his families secret.
But did he?
Was it never a dream?
Had he been dissociating so bad since Scarecrows gas that he forgot he got into a whole relationship? Was the toxin still in him? It might be.
Tim did find moments he would find himself in one place or another after spacing out; he would forget conversations that had happened and imagined others. So did his whole brain just...?
He's going crazy.
Why would the gas even do that to him? Do this? Do it with you? For so long? For six months?
Why?
"I think I'm scared of being alone." Tim swallowed, looking up at you from his slumped over posture on the bed, "Again."
You don't answer, but he can feel you shift as you stand infront of him.
"I don't know what happened, Scarescrows gas did something to me." Tim choked, hands fumbling through his hand - trying to comb the messy strands back, "It made me- It forced me-"
Your footsteps hit his ears, and just as soon as he feels the bed dip next to him; he feels your warmth seep into his. It soothes his senses, calms his mind, and he can't believe he didn't believe you two hours ago.
Even just your smell has his brain calming down, its like your a key to something he's never unlocked before. A key to something he thought he'd never be able to find.
Happiness. Relief.
"When my parents-" Tim took a deep breathe in, hesitating - and he feels your hand on his - resting on his knees, "When my parents died, I thought I'd never have anyone again. Even when I did have them- they just-" He swallows, he feels raw, aware, like you're stripping him down clean - yet he's the one whose doing it, he's the one whose speaking, "It's so stupid." He mutters.
"It's not, Tim." You sigh, squeezing his hand; and he glances up just in time to see your eyebrows arch downwards, "You don't have to say anything, its okay."
"It's not." Tim spits out, tone raw but not unkind, "I made you cry, I made it weird for you. I can't imagine how it even was before hand-" He urges, "I mean, you were already meeting the Big Bad Bat." Tim scoffs, looking away, "I just made it worse."
It's silent for a moment.
"Maybe." You agree, and Tim winces, "Maybe you did make it worse. Maybe you made it crazy, and even unfair to me in that moment at how you were acting.
"Thanks..."
"But Tim," You shift on the bed to face him, "That's just how life is- your life is." You sigh, knuckles grazing the skin of his cheek and he leans into it, "Your life is unfair, and crazy, and yes - sometimes, all it's going to do is be worse for awhile. Sometimes it's going to take awhile to get better."
"Or maybe one crazy family dinner." Tim groans and you snort.
"Maybe." You agree, "But you don't think I didn't think of that before I tracked you down? Before I practically demanded you go out with me?"
"Either way." Tim shook his head, pulling away from you slightly, "You had no idea what you were even getting into, you had no-" He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut, "You couldn't even imagine what was going to happen, what would happen, you were only a civilian."
You raise an eyebrow, "And I still am."
"But-"
"And I'm still here." You add, tilting your head to try and catch his gaze, "Six months later."
Tim stares out the window, its dark out, peaceful. A rare night in Gotham, and for a moment, he wonders if it only feels peaceful because of what is happening in this room. If its only because you're with him. Here, in this moment.
"Tim." You chime, and he finally turns to look at you. You grin and his heart stutters, "There you are."
Tim takes a deep breathe, inhaling your scent; one he finds oh so familiar now, "I really don't know why."
You blink, "Why you're here? It is your room."
"No," Tim scoffed a little, a small chuckle mixed in, "Why you're here."
You hum slightly, hand running down his face until you could cup the back of his neck, "Don't you remember what I told you earlier?"
"Uh..." Tim pauses for a moment, blue eyes locked into yours, "That the pie was 50 dollars?"
A snort leaves you, "No."
Tim gives a confused mutter.
You shy your head away slightly, sly grin coming to your face as your eyes crinkle at the edges. Your amazing. A masterpiece. A painting. And Tim wished he had his camera,
"I love you."
Tim blinks, and he hears you laugh at him as he cheeks heat up.
"There's my handsome man." You coo teasingly, and Tim can tell you want to kiss him - yet you go for a hug instead; arms wrapped tightly around his neck and you sigh, "More than you could ever know."
Tim inhales your scent, fingers curling into the softness of your coat.
"And you'll never be alone." You add, words whispering a soft stream into his ears, "Never, ever, again. Because-"
"I'm bored."
Lex Luthor barely looks up from his tablet, Mercy at least has the decency to raise an eyebrow at you as you pout in the corner - yet her lip curls in disgust at your true form. Lower one trembling as her eyes dart back to the screen.
"When are you aliens not?" Lex scoffs, waving you off - not finding you interesting at the moment, "You're a genocidic, murderous, shapeshifter. Who, may I remind you. Was sent here by their own people to observe the Earth." He flicks an eyebrow up at you, taking in your tall lanky form, the discolored white of your skin, the way your hands hands way under your knees, "Observe."
"You're a stupid human." You hiss, "You ask me to stay, to help you with my peoples biology for lodge. Yet, you do nothing but celebrate your half baked victories."
"Yes." Luthor drawls disinterestedly, swiping at his tablet, "I suppose it would look that way to a species of your caliber." He glances up at you, "Your race did decimate its brother race after all, did it not?"
"Yet instead of asking about true victories," You accuse, fists curling, "You sit here and squaller with whores."
He at least has the decency to put down his tablet as he laughs now, lounging at his desk, "Oh please. I'm the epitome of the human race. The most true form you'll find, I'm just what the others keep deep down inside." He smirks, "But better."
A growl comes from deep within your chest and Mercy flinches, Luthor scoffs; scoffs like you were some wolf cub squealing at him.
"Oh please." He shakes his head, going back to whatever data was on his screen, "Just go try and kill the Green one again. Though, of course, we know how that went last time." He smirked.
You've never cared about world domination, that's the truth.
You never cared about taking over Mars, you never cared about crushing in the skulls of your Green brothers, and you never cared much about taking down the last one of their kind as well.
So when you were sent off to this mud rock, when you were sent off to destroy the Martian known as J'onn Jones, sent to kill him? You didn't' care. Of course you had tried, yet that was a one and done for you once the one called Wonder Woman almost bashed your skull inwards. And you didn't care about observing the humans as demanded by your superiors either. They were boring, disgusting.
Yes, it was easy to blend in. Wander around. Take in the 'sights' of a primitive planet such as this one. But it was boring.
Depressing really.
Each thought after the last from these creatures grew worse and worse, more and more boring.
"My girlfriend broke up with me."
"Man, I don't wanna go to work."
"My dad is such a bitch."
"I think I'm going to get fired from work."
"I can't believe he's dead."
Of course people changed as you moved across cities. God knows that you were the most aggravated whenever that Joke of white face paint decided to visit Lex, or Lex decided to visit him in Gotham. And it was worse when Lex dragged you along with him, shapeshifted as Mercy, disguised in plain daylight whilst the woman did something more nefarious at home.
The perfect body double.
The perfect alibi.
The perfect worker.
The perfect spy.
The perfect-
Man.
You don't know when it started.
Your love.
You don't know how your disgust was swept away and replaced by something keener, something softer, something more haunting than the thirst you kept for blood.
Because gosh, inside and out, through and through, biologically and mentally-
He. Was. Perfect.
You stayed in Gotham more often when you could, and you followed him, and followed him, and followed him.
You followed Tim everywhere, home, work, the coffee shop down the street, the store two blocks over, the drug store he only goes to once a month for a specific brand of Advil only they had, the Bat Burger much too far for comfort. You followed him even when you weren't there, checking on him mentally. Chats were listened into, identities were learned, people were met. You were there when he broke up with Stephanie, when he broke up with Bernard, when he ended his situationship with Conner. You were there in his weak moments, the days when his heart was heavy and his mind was shallow. Shallow, yet filled with one thing.
Someone that would become you.
Tim Drake's mind was a masterpiece, in pieces or apart, shattered or broken, put together with glue or tape. His memories, his naivety, his backstory, his hurt, his anger, his love, his loneliness. All needed to be kept, all needed to be protected, all needed to be tapped into - by you, for you.
So you prepared him, prepped him, to make you both the happiest you two could ever be. You turned into his dream person, of course, you tweaked nothing about that, about you. A simple shapeshift would do.
Scarecrow was so nice when you asked him for a teeny, tiny, favor, even nicer when you presented him with a formula that would screw Batman over; sending him reeling for weeks, months even. Make him foggy, unsure.
Even better when thrown at someone you have to push new memories into.
Every free moment, ever second, every heavy thought, every slice of loneliness was fixed and replaced by you.
Memories of phone calls were fabricated.
Memories of dates were made.
Kisses, sexual experiences? All curated to his very needs and thoughts and implanted with easy, sliding into place like butter on a dish tray.
You even gave him the stupid dates he yearned for. The coffee dates, the picnics, the days you would study at the library together and hold pinkies like it was the most forbidden thing in the world. Giggling under your breathes when someone would pass by.
And every time he felt stressed, every time you couldn't be there, or needed to leave a gap of memory in his brain? You would flush him with your scent. And at the same time? You would activate the parts of his brain that would give him happiness, pleasure. You would make it so the very smell of you was addictive, brightening.
You made him addicted to you.
And suddenly the human brain was the most astounding thing on the planet.
Especially his.
And, of course, there would be fogginess with all the altering you did.
There was fogginess when you ambushed Batman mid mission, forcing him to his knees after a harsh mental battle. Forcing him to like any memory made of you, forcing him to like any mention of you, forcing him to like you even if his gut curled at the very feeling.
There was a fogginess when you implanted memories into Cass and Stephanie's brains. Fake dates of their own, fake feelings, fake memories. The perfect catalyst, something to make Tim feel more alone, more needed, more jealous. Something to push him to lie to the people he loves, to make you known. Or, the idea of you.
The fogginess when you made Helena Bertinelli and Victor Sage forget about you completely. Forget about the fact of you 'preying' -in their words- on someone close to them. A simple wave of the hand made their crossbows and fists completely useless. To them, that same night they cornered you was just the night they went on a nice date to a fancy restaurant.
Of course, more things were changed.
People you thought wouldn't become problems? They did.
It was hard to control your face when Damian threw his fit. Not so much annoyance. More one of knowing.
Every thought against you.
"Have you lost all your training you dirt heavy idiot, we shouldn't let unidentified idiots into the house!" He huffs, crossing his arms, "Even if Drake swoons over them like a lost swan."
Every fight.
Stephanie raises an eyebrow, "Aren't swans gay?"
Every word.
"Are they?" Duke questions.
They could all be stopped with a simple movement.
"Was that a jab at Tim's sexuality?" Steph teases, putting on a playful pouted front, "Thats not very accepting of you Damian. Say, like how Tim may accept an assassin into his home?"
A simple thought
Damian just deadpanned at her.
A simple word.
"Not cool dude." Duke shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
Even just a simple action.
"Shouldn't of all people, you should know love is love, huh?" Jason adds on, clearly keeping a snort down as he chides, "Look at your pare-"
Or a simple look.
"And I brought pie!" You gleefully chatter, raising the pie tin.
Damian's head snaps over, one second faster than the rest of his siblings do. Your eyes glint, red, you're sure of it. It glimmers in his eyes, deadly, poisoness.
Damian pauses, his brain pausing, adjusting. And when his legs suddenly move, scurrying over and snatching the tin; you're all too happy to let him. Barely faltering.
"They can stay." He states blandly, not taking two seconds to scurry back into the kitchen.
Even small things became problems, things you thought wouldn't matter.
A candle.
Your eyes can barely leave it as you all sit down, the flames licking up the wick like it actually had business being there. Being near you.
Funny how you had gotten this far, yet a simple candle deterred you.
"So," Bruce starts, fork tapping at his plate - much unlike how Tim's was barely even picked up, "I hear you're in college for Psychology."
"I am." You nod, fork stabbing into some vegetables on your plate, "I go to Gotham U."
You glance up, catching eyes with Dick.
"Gotham U?" Dick chews on his food.
And it barely took a simple thought before he was leaning forwards, casually, discreetly, like he was just doing it for his own favor.
'Get rid of it.'
Yet even with that, you smile.
"You must be pretty smart then." He grins right back, unaware of his the beech to his own mind, "Psychology too? Nice."
And when you're in Tim's bedroom after the whole ordeal, after you shy your head away slightly, sly grin coming to your face as your eyes crinkle at the edges.
You know what he's thinking.
Because you gave him those thoughts, you gifted them to him.
For an easier transition of course.
Your amazing.
A masterpiece.
A painting.
And Tim wished he had his camera, you know he does - though thats a thought of his own. Natural. Complete.
You sigh "I love you."
Tim blinks, and he hears you laugh at him as he cheeks heat up.
"There's my handsome man." You coo teasingly, and Tim can tell you want to kiss him - yet you go for a hug instead; arms wrapped tightly around his neck and you sigh, "More than you could ever know."
Tim inhales your scent, fingers curling into the softeness of your coat.
"And you'll never be alone." You add, words whispering a soft stream into his ears, "Never, ever, again. Because-"
Your eyes bore into the mirror mantled perfectly on his dresser, red pooling the iris's and glinting dangerously back at you. Yet you hum, grinning into his nape.
"I love you, Tim. So, so, much."
-----
A/N- I feel like the twist wasn't given enough details...but! If you thought the reader was gonna be something/someone else please do leave a comment or leave an Anon. I love hearing peoples thoughts...hehe...
Also if you saw any other pronouns/ words besides them/they used please message me....
Hi Dino, hope you're alright and doing okay. Remember to take care of yourself and do what you enjoy.
Thank you internet stranger...
I have been hospitalized again...but due to your concern which is THAT MUCH MORE than my irl friends, I shall be dropping a Tim Drake fic tomorrow in your honor. So I hope you like that character...
Three BIG ROARS-
Tomorrow after work(?) Tim Drake x Porn-Star reader. Or another work...if I get bored...
Hey…it’s me…I’m alive…was not hit by another asteroid…uhh..
ANYWAYS! I want to make an LGBTQ+ series for Pride Month, with one story coming out every week. I want to include LGBTQ+ themes, like struggles, acceptance, and stuff like that, y know? Not just one of my random horror smut things. But I’m having trouble coming up with stories that aren’t just horror…
I was wondering if you guys could help me and send in some asks! You can be anonymous, and you don’t have to. But any themes like my Tim x FtM reader one would ANY subject on the LGBTQ scale would really help. I will write for ANYONE!
Characters: Jason Todd x Male!Speedster!Outlaw! Reader!
Summary: N/A
Warnings: Suicide mentioned, suicide referenced, characters are grieving, characters feel guilt.There may be some grammical errors…
"I don't think I can do it anymore."
Jason barely glances at you, too enraptured by the glimmering dance that the lights of Gotham put on - never ending, swallowing up the darkness around them.
"Do what?" Jason snorts.
He's not lost on the fact that you stopped eating your Burrito 10 minutes ago, and he's not lost on the fact that you've been awfully quiet for the past 20. The generic speedster quip he so effortlessly hated leaving him higher and dryer than he thought.
"Finish your Tacos?" He scoffs, leaning back more; lounging on the rooftop so comfortably next to you. It was second nature at this point, "Considering how much of a fatass you are, I'd be surprised."
You chuckle, yet your glimmer doesn't come back to your eyes, it doesn't reach your soul, "Nah, not that."
Jason grunts, a small acknowledgment.
"I don't know, guess I..." Your shrug is laced with the same hesitance your tone carries, "Guess...I never thought I'd being doing this for so long?"
Jason takes a bite of his Pizza, "Being an asshole?"
"Being a hero."
A small snort hits the air, Jason cackling at your words, "A 'hero', huh? That's an awful high standard you see yourself as."
You can barely contain an eyeroll, "Oh sure, 'Boy Wonder'" You muttered sarcastically and he gives you a look, "Red Hood."
"Whatever you say," He grumbles, "'Bolt'."
You shake your head, laughing, "Still not as bad as Boy wonder."
"Hey!" Jason snaps, voice lacking its usual sarcastic bite when he looked at you, "It was a legacy name. It had importance. More than I can say than whatever crap you have going on over there. The only thing you inherited was shitty spandex."
"Ehhh." You tease, "May be shitty, but it sure did get the girls attentions."
Jason paused, something dark shifting on his face before he looked away, "So what? You gonna quit being an Outlaw or somethin'?"
You blink at him, "Could I?"
"You can do whatever the hell you want," Jason grumbled, unapologetically chewing with his mouth open, "See if I care."
"I dunno.." You grin, gazing at him, propping your chin against your fist, "Seems like the team could use a speedster."
You can hear the eyeroll in his voice, "Yea sure." He jeers, "We already have one too many."
"Huh?" You quirk an eyebrow, already seeing a shit eating smirk encapsulate Jason's face. And you ask before you can stop yourself, "I'm the only speedster on the Outlaws?"
"Exactly."
You grumble and he laughs,
"Looks like that speed doesn't work for you brain," Jason snickered, "Huh?"
You don't answer.
Your eyes gaze away, lips pursing, and that's the exact moment Jason knows something is seriously wrong with you.
The gears aren't turning in your head, they aren't spinning, aren't working. Aren't working enough to tell you to yap away in his ear at 200 words per a minute, aren't working enough for you to leave him stranded in a desert somewhere.
You're just.
Quiet.
Not you.
"Hey." Jason knocks your shoulder, and you look at him; those grey speckled eyes enrapturing his vision. Somehow so close, yet so far away, "What's wrong with you? Seriously."
A low sounds comes from your chest when you shrug, "I dunno." you faltered, "I guess I just- my brain is working too fast for my body."
Jason raises an expectant eyebrow, demanding, "And?"
"And-" Your voice faltered, trailing off as you took a deep breathe in. The breeze filtering through your hair as you looked off, "And...I guess I'm realizing that when I was younger, I didn't think I'd be doing this whole masked savior thing for so long. I-" You hesitant, neck burning in what has to be in embarrassment, "I-"
"You wanted to have a normal life?" Jason vocalized before you could even think of beating him to it, shaking his head, "Yea, buddy. Get in line. You think I want to be here, talking to some meta-human at 4 in the morning? Or Roy wants his kid to be in an urn instead of tucked into bed?"
You don't answer.
Silence settled between the two of you, something familiar, something swirling, something that was always there yet never found. Something that had stayed between the two of you in your ten years of knowing each other. From Robin and Bolt. To Robin and well...Bolt
Jason sighs; gaze softening,
"I get it..." He groans, "Seriously." He glances at you, "I wish I could tell you some hopeful shit like, 'It's not too late'. But it is. You don't even have a GED."
You scoff, snorting at the mere idea - and the noise almost sounds aggrieved, "Hoping for a GED from me at this point is like a prayer sent to heaven."
"You said it." Jason uttered, fingers tapping against his thigh, "The world thinks we're dead."
"Dead, dead." You sigh.
"Yea." He grumbles.
Silence ensues, filling the air, wisping between the bone chilling charge Gotham never seemed to be able to get rid of.
"Even if I did." You start, "I wouldn't even know what I'd do. I mean, I thought Thawne would get be eventually- y'know? Or Zoom, or Darkside, or hell - even one of Snarts crew if they ever changed their ways."
"Trust me." Jason commented, something deep twisting in his chest, "I get it." He scoffs, "Probably more than anyone else."
"Yea." You swallow, a crackled chuckle forcing from your throat - and its at that moment Jason realizes he can't look at you. He can't look at you whilst you're breaking down. He can't look at 'Bolt' the comic relief, the light, airheaded, speedster of the team do more than just laugh, "It's probably too late for us, huh?"
"Most definitely."
You seemed to note that, and Jason can't say for sure, he never could, but he swears you stare at him for a few moments. Eyes scanning him, savoring him, engraining his profile into your vision like it was the very last time.
But he didn't look.
And you stood up.
And he stayed silent.
He stayed silent as you stood up, stayed silent as you walked away, stayed silent as you didn't use your speed. Like you were waiting, pleading, begging him to stop you.
Instead he kept his eyes on his bat burger, the mustard running down his fingers, sticking them. And it makes him wish-
Oh.
Jason snaps his head back, "Hey-"
His voice is gruff as you look back at him, your hand already on the doorknob to the roof access. Yet, he's bouncing up, quick to leave his chicken-sandwich abandoned on the ground for once as he quickly walks over.
He wants to reach out, he wants to grab you, he wants to take a hold of your wrist. Tell you not to leave, but he can't, he just can't.
So he tells you.
Jason Todd.
The Red Hood.
"Please don't leave." He blurts.
You pause, eyebrows raising - those grey freckled eyes of yours swirling with confusion. Or had they been green? Jason can't seem to remember as you turn to him.
"Jason?"
"You left." And Jason can't help how his voice goes quiet, words barely uttered now at fear of them cracking, "You left, and you never came back. You can't leave now."
You pause as your lips purse -almost in understanding- eyebrows furrowing, a whisper, "Oh, Jay..."
He wants to take a step forward, but something stops him, something holds him back. He feels almost dizzy, the skyline bending, fuzzing, contorting. Yet he didn't notice, didn't care. He couldn't, he wouldn't.
No.
He could only focus on you.
"Why." Jason agonized, fists clenching at his side, "Why did you leave?"
You shake your head, "I don't know."
"Were you unhappy?" He accused, and something curls deep in his gut - something that hasn't curled since he died, since Bruce refused to kill that laughing piece of- "Were you sad?"
You pause, a shake of the head, "I don't know."
He grits his teeth, jaw clenching. You 'don't know'? You 'Don't know'. How could you not know? You did it. You did it. Not him. You. So how could you not know?!
"You're such a selfish sack of shit!" Jason spat, and he has half the mind to punch your stupid face and your yellow speckled eyes right in the jaw, "You just left!? You think we all have that option!? That we haven't thought about it!? We have, we just don't fucking do it!" He ranted, "You don't fucking do it! You shouldn't have!"
You tilt your head at him like he was some kind of enigma, some kind of stranger.
"You should've just asked for help." Jason urged.
"I know."
"From Kory, from Roy, from-" He falters, teeth soon gritting and he can't help the way his voice snaps, "From me."
"I know."
"You left us-" Jason choked, and he can't stop his voice from cracking now, "Left me."
"I know."
"Fuck-" He curses under his breathe, hand running messily through his hair, "You know- It was fucked up when I heard you had to speak at my shitty ass funeral-"
"I know."
"Do you?!" He challenged, breathes heavy, uneven, and he swears his heart is about to beat right out of his chest. He has to force himself to calm down, to be quiet. He swallows, voice barely heard, "Do you...?"
You just stare at him, and his heart breaks when a small smile comes to your face - present but empty, "Do you remember that day when we were younger-"
"I remember all of them." Jason cuts in, and he feels your eyes on him; but they're unfocused, unreal.
Your face shys away, embarrassed flush only he got to see spreading up your neck when you practically giggle, "It was the one when we spent all day in the library, and I helped you with your homework."
Jason paused, and for some reason. Even with you so dull, even with you so uneven, he still remembers that.
"How the fuck could I not?" Jason scoffed, and he almost feels normal -almost, "I was reading on a second grade level in 4th grade. It was fucking embarrassing..." He sucked in a sharp breathe, "But you helped me."
"I did."
Jason stares at you.
You're so pretty.
You shake your head, "I remember that's the day I decided I wanted to be a teacher." Your eyes glint up at him, brown speckles glimmering like starlight, "I wanted to help kids like you."
Jason scoffs, his voice watery, "Sounds pretty snobbish coming from you."
You ignore him.
Or did you?
"I didn't want to be a hero." You tilt your head, "Not forever."
Jason swallows, "I know."
You blink, "Did you?"
"Yea." He sucks in a breathe, words a mere grumble in his chest as he rubbed the back of his neck, "Yea, I did. Didn't I?"
"Did you think I was happy being a hero for so long?" You challenge, voice even, more even than his could ever be at a time like this, "Being on your team?"
Jason pursed his lips, "Were you?"
You shake your head, "I don't know Jason."
Jason clenched his jaw, anger broiling through his veins and he really can't help it, "You don't know a lot of things."
You just smile.
Jason's eyes wander, tittering from place to place, from blur to blur when he feels his eyes become heavy. Heavy with grief, heavy with anger, heavy with guilt.
"If I-" His voice cracks, quiet, "If I had stopped you, would you still-" He lets out a shaky breathe, "Would you be here?"
You don't react.
Silence.
There's no answer, no fanfare, not even another glance from you as you turn. You turn and he can't stop you.
He tries.
He tries to reach out, tries to touch you, tries to hold you.
Just one last time, one last moment, one last glance.
That's all he needs.
All he needs is you.
Yet, something stops him, pulls him back, holds him down.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-
Not again.
Not again.
A wave of dizziness hits him, nausea pulling him, grabbing him, tearing his soul out as he watches you open the door. Your hair, your back, the back of that stupid hoodie you always wore covering his view of your face, your smile, that stupid little grin you had been missing of as late.
He can't breathe.
He can't breathe.
Every inhale is stopped short, every step is clogged, every movement is sluggish, every beat of his heart feels like its killing him.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He just needs one more day.
He just needs one more minute.
He just needs one more second.
He just needs you.
Here.
He opens his mouth, "I love-"
"You need to wake up!"
Jason's eyes snap open, a searing pain burning into his skull - reverberating throughout his vision as he's suddenly sitting up in his bed. Your face staring back at him, but only from the group photo on his dresser. Sweat sleek and glistening off his skin, heart hammering in his chest.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey-" Dick suddenly hushes, and Jason is much to wound up to push him off when he grabs his shoulders, "Its okay, you're in your room. It's me, Its Dick."
Fuck.
Jason can only hope to holy hell that Dick ignores how he puts his head in his hands, he hope Dick ignores how his hand are shaking, ignores how his jaw is clenching, ignores how his breathes are quivering.
"I didn't know-" Jason rasps, voice shaky as he feels Dick squeeze his shoulders.
"I know-" Dick mutters, trying to pacify him, "Jay."
"Fuck- I thought- he was supposed to be talking about being a fucking hero!" He snaps, shoving Dick off him, "Not his own fucking life, fuck!"
Dick can only furrow his eyebrows as wood splinters everywhere, a large hole now in Jason's bedframe as his brother breathes heavily.
"'I don't think I can do it anymore.'" Jason panted, the words fresh in his mind as ever, and his fist slams down, again, and again, and again, and again. Each word punctuated with a smash, a blistering of wood, "'I don't think I can do it anymore.' Fuck- Fuck me! Fucking-"
"What is Todd grumbling on about." Damian scorned, not missing the side-eye he earns from Stephanie. Eyes grazing upon Jason as he sat vacantly in the garden, stiff, slumped, unmoving, "Did Harper break his heart again?"
"That Bolt guy." Duke started, nudging Damians shoulder with his body somewhat, "That Outlaw Speedster?"
"The annoying one." Damian grumbles, "Scratch that they're all annoying.
"He died." Stephanie murmured, and its obvious how the mood shifts.
Damian freezes, wide eyes peering up at Stephanie. Duke huffs slightly, eyes trained on Jason.
"Y/n?" Damian blanks.
Stephanie nods, all three of their eyes going back to Jason. Watching him sit there in silence.
"So Todd's friend died?" Damian muttered as his eyebrows furrowed, hands stuffing into his pockets at his side.
"Best-friend." Duke added, "They were pretty close. Saw the dude by his side 24/7."
"I heard they've known each other since Jason was Robin? Can you believe that?" Stephanie murmured, voice quiet, soft, and she turned to look at Duke, "He's been around for so long, yet I barely even got to know him."
Duke swallowed, glancing over at Stephanie; not bothering to look back as Artemis took her seat next to Jason.
Jason didn't bother to glance over, hands folded all to neatly in front of him as his legs spread out. Yet that didn't stop Artemis from sitting down, scoffing before she plopped down with a murmured sigh.
"I'm not in the mood." Jason snaps, words tight, yet Artemis doesn't even flinch.
In fact she's quicker.
"Oh please." She retorted, "You're never."
Silence.
The Outlaws.
A more morally ambiguous version of the Justice League, a broken version, some would say a better. Made up of each heroes biggest mistakes.
And now one of those mistakes was dead.
Artemis hums, eyes sharp as she stares at Jason, "Kory and Roy are helping The Flash make preparations for the funeral."
"And?" Jason grumbled, he can't help it. He's too sad, too angry, and something in his chest has been feeling irregular. Irregular since the day Roy found your body cold on your bedroom floor, "What's your job? Fucking slacking?"
"Convincing your weeping ass to go." Artemis challenged, eyebrow quirking, "Drag you. If I must."
"You can try."
"I will." She affirms, changing her words; eyes changing to look at the smooth stream of water the fountain produced. Two Angels weeping precariously in each others arms. She clenched a muscle in her cheek, "Its what he would've wanted."
"What he would've wanted?" Jason snapped, angered expression meeting her firm one, "What he would've wanted, you can't be fucking serious."
"Why would he not?" Artemis challenged, voice flat, "You two were close. Closer than we ever were."
Jason grumbles, the sound low in his chest, "That's different."
"Precisely." Artemis affirms, hard eyes meeting his fuzzy ones, "It is different. How do you think he'd feel? His teammate of 3 years there. His best friend of more than decade not?"
Jason looks away, "He's dead."
"You were dead to." Artemis lamented, shrugging, "Bizzaro."
Jason was silence.
"Are you saying-" She shifted, facing him, tone unwavering even at her words, "That if you could do it all over again. If you could choose who was there when you died. You wouldn't want those closet to you there to say one final goodbye?"
Jason clenched his jaw, "I got my final goodbye."
"You didn't know it was one though."
"I should've!" He snapped, head snapping over to look at her, "I should've! I should've known, should've fucking sense something, fucking anything! But I didn't! And he died because of that, because of me. And I wish I could go out and beat the shit out of whoever did this to him. I wish I could go and put a bullet through his head, but I can't."
Artemis goes silent, gearing turning, sputtering, grinding in her head. Not taking her gaze off Jason as he shifted, fevered gaze back to burning a hole in the garden.
"You see yourself a murderer." She says flatly, "You can't shoot the bullet because it means putting it through your own head."
"I'm right." Jason hissed, raging storm behind his eyes - voice tight, quiet, "I'm right and you know it."
Artemis shook her head, sighing, "See it as you want. Whatever lead up to it. Whatever strings fate pulled. It wasn't you." Her eyes squeezed shut, "And when he-" She faltered, lips pursing; and Jason shifts next to her, "When he ran his hand through his heart. Shredded it." She muttered quietly, like you were still around to hear them gossip, "It was him. Not you."
Jason rubs his hands together, mind swirling, fingers twirling, breathe swaying. He scoffed, trying to hide the break in his tone, "I should've done- I could've...I could've done something."
"What could you have done? It wasn't a murder, it was a self inflicted act." Artemis swallows, "One we could've stopped. Yes. I see that. I understand. But you didn't fuck up anything in the end. He was alone. In his bedroom like normal." She glanced at him, "Besides, you don't have super speed. And you don't have to ability to shred someone's heart. You did not even press his hand into his ribcage."
Jason was silent, peering at the garden with an empty stare, "We did shred his heart though." He murmured, "In a different way."
Artemis scoffed, sardonic, "How poetic of you."
Jason grimaced.
"He would like that." she mentioned casually - too casual, like it was just a random fact. "Before all this. He liked how tolerant you had grown to become of literature."
Jason blinks, something in his chest squeezing his heart - his lungs. And his words come out breathless, "Really?"
"Yes. He quite liked it," Artemis smirks at the hopeful swirl in his eyes, one of a child asking for a cookie after dinner, "Maybe you should read a poem at his funeral."
Jason scoffed, "You wish."
"You're going."
"I'm not."
Artemis scoffed, "Jason, you are not a murderer."
"I am."
"Perhaps," Artemis mused, "But not of him. Not of Y/n. Not of Bolt. Not of your friend.
Jason doesn't answer, fingers squeezing each other tightly, "He was your friend too."
Artemis quirked an eyebrow, "Then did I kill him as well?"
"Maybe." Jason scoffed.
Artemis furrowed her brows, "Would you say that of Booster? Did he kill the second Blue Beetle?" Artemis challenged, and she sees the way Jason tenses, "Would you say that of Hawk with the late Dove -his brother?"
"It's different." Jason snapped.
"Like hell." She snapped back.
Jason didn't move, not as Artemis sighed, not as she grabbed his hand, not as she made him face her.
It was a quiet, warm day, one you would've liked. One you would've forced everyone outside to, encouraging them to 'race'. Cackling about how they couldn't beat you before Kory and Artemis would beat you up.
"I need to know you understand." She started, pursing her lips, "So, I will repeat what needs to be said until you say - with as hard headed as you are- that you understand." Artemis paused, eyes peering at Jason. He barely moves, "You didn't kill him, Jason. You didn't kill your friend. Your friend died," She took a deep breathe, voice firm, "Because people do that sometimes. They just slip away, for no reason. It's no ones fault, it's not your fault, its not my fault, its not Roy's fault, and its not his fault."
Jason paused, gaze not tearing away from hers as she paused.
He grunts,
"We should go to the track."
-------------------
Bonus:
"I quite like that filter." Kory agreed, hands on your shoulder, offering her own guidance whilst your eyes peered through the camera.
"I hate it." Bizzaro muttered, slinking around the couch.
"There's no filter," Roy snorts, dragging Jason to sit on the couches arm, "Big Bad Bolt made it all by himself, that's why the lens is just dirty." He smirks, "Because he didn't clean it, like I told him to."
You roll your eyes, fingers fiddling with the camera whilst you watch everyone settle down. Roy acting like a mother who poses the whole family in white for pictures, "Fuck you, Harper."
Roy winks at you, Kory floating around you to sit next to Roy - the man deciding to sit on the other side of the couch from Jason. Leaving you a spot next to Kory in the middle, a tight spot right next to Jason.
"How is this gonna work anyways?" Artemis proposes, standing behind Jason and the couch,
"He's gonna use his speed." Jason muttered, watching you adjust the settings. Manspreading like he wasn't sharing the space with 3+ people over 6 feet tall. "Or have you not figured that out yet?"
Artemis smacks him behind the head and he curses loudly at her, "That is the point of a question. I would hope you'd know that. But for a man my hopes are dwindled."
"Fuck you." Jason grumbled.
"I'll click the shutter option, sit down before the camera can even take the picture, and be back to pick it back up before it falls." You explain, half assing it as you fiddle with the settings.
"Someone's confident." Roy teased.
"Rightful so." Kory added.
"Alrighty." You wink at them all, you point your finger, "Bizzaro!" You grin when he grunts, "You frown, everyone else! Bigggggg smiles! One, two, three-"
A burst of lightning ripples throughout the room, and just as you said - you were back to catch the camera before gravity could even blink. Yet in that split second you had been there? That split second you had been pressed next to Jason? That split second your thigh had met his?
His neck flushed, lips burning form the electricity that had zapped between you two when you no doubt kissed him. Pressing your lips to his before he or the camera could even blink.
Not to sound crude/ungrateful, but if you’re going to like literally every single one of my fanfiction posts and or 50 percent of them. Could you at least repost one of them?
how about tim drake x ftm reader that hasn't transitioned yet / is scared to go through all the medical stuff ?? since he's bi i dont think it'll bother him but im still curious about your take on this
The Prettiest 'Girl' In the World
Characters: Tim Drake x FtM Reader
Summary: You haven't been feeling right for days, months, years even. Every person you consulted, every person you talked to, every person you pleaded for help, they all saw it as phase. Blaming it on the pandemic mania warping your brain 6 years ago. You don't think it's a phase anymore.
Warnings: Major body dysmorphia, reader is mentioned to have a chest, mentions of fear of T, mention SH but nothing is described, cursing, Bruce looses money...suggestive scene but nothing happens...
A/N: Yo, did you guys see the mom who put her kid on a dog bed outside whilst SICK? 😭Slowly getting through all these requests though lollll.
It was the first thing Tim noticed, that's what he always told you; recounting the day he first saw you in your shared lectured hall over and over again.
Your beauty was breathtaking, subtle, striking people in the face before they could realize you were even gone. Allowing them to only pause in stunned silence as a trail of perfume was left behind.
You had the sort of stature that made even fully grown men sway, doubting their dominance, doubting their egos, doubting their own words and ways. Your head was held high, perfectly trimmed hair bouncing with every click of your -very expensive looking- high heels on the lecture floor.
You had the body that made every single dress drape your figure perfectly, every piece of jewelry placed onto you was outshined by the mere look that settled in your eyes, you weren't an elegant figure; you were elegance. That small, charismatic, smile you gave to onlookers? Sent them swooning as you made your by- hips swaying softly in the wind.
Because yes, wind had suddenly formed; allowing you to shift your hair perfectly out of your face like some sort of cheesy Hallmark movie. The strands not even getting caught in your lip gloss as you all but practically shone like the first sunrise on a winter day.
Your look was sleek, simple.
The epitome of femineity.
That's why he fell in love with you in the first place.
So how could you do this to him?
Your face looks dirty in the mirror, and no matter what angle you use, no matter what way you look at it - at yourself. You look horrible, unnatural.
You're unnatural.
Your contour that usually glides so sleek over your cheeks, giving you the perfect finish? Only makes your skin look patchy, dusty, like you had just gotten a weird spray tan at a tacky salon. The eyeshadow you had applied to make your eyes look darker, slimmer? It just makes you look gaunt - unnatural - something Tim and his siblings would be beating the shit out of right about now.
The concealer you applied to your lips to make them look more chapped? The 'man bun' you had done? Tim's clothes that you had thrown on to hide your figure? The fake facial hair you had added on at the end to try and fix everything?
It all looked horrible.
No matter what lighting you used, no matter what angle you pushed to body to bend to, you just looked like some 12 year old who got into their moms makeup bag for the first time.
Ding!
Your phone lights up as you blink, your friends message lighting up on your screen.
You
He's out with his brothers rn :(
I'm just chilling...
1:02 AM
Muscle Mommy
UGHHHHHHHH
was hoping for another good story
sorry babe
cant believe he just left a hottie like you in his room
l mean...I'll CUM overrrrr LOLLL ;p
1:05 AM
You
LMAOOOOO
No fr, cum over bbg
weird question
do u think I'd look good as a boy??
2:39 AM
Muscle Mommy
wtf
were did that come from????
your so pretty as a girl tho
did he say something?
beat his ass
2:54 AM
Eternity passes in an eerily silent way, an anxious buzz filling your ears as you just stood there.
...
You're tired, and you should probably wash this off before you go to bed so you don't break out.
So Tim doesn't see.
Placing your phone screen side down, the facuet squeaks in resistance before you dip your face down; groaning when water much too icy for this time of the night hits your face. It's not soon after that you're padding back over to Tim's bed to wait for him like some pliant puppy; still in his clothes as you plop back onto the bed. Spreading out like a starfish.
The perfect girlfriend.
You stare at the ceiling like it's the most important thing in the world, like it holds all of the answers in life.
But it doesn't.
"Babe?"
You feel a knuckle brush past your cheek, and it hits you all too suddenly that Red Robin is suddenly looming over you; poking into your vision like some kind of cheesy sitcom.
"Tim!"
He reels back as you shoot up, narrowly avoiding post-patrol head trauma from your heads colliding - per usual; and your hands are around him fast. Your arms slink around his neck, pulling him close before your hand pulls down his cowl, intertangling with the dark coils on the back of his head.
"I was so worried," You mutter, pulling away, eyes scattering, searching, scanning him for any signs of injuries when he doesn't hug you back - unworried of sounding selfish, "Where were you? Why didn't you text me?"
"I did." He muttered in a tone not of his own, eyes not leaving your face. His lips purse, face screwing up as he looks down at you, "You were that worried?"
Your eyes shoot up in surprise, confusion riddling your features before you find your sense of words again, "Of course...I-I'm sorry, I must've fallen..." Your eyes search, falling on your phone that was currently face down on the floor.
Shit.
You try to scramble to grab it. Yet, Tim stops you short. Grappling both of your forearms before you can pull away fully; pressing a few small kisses to your face, and you can't help but giggle.
"You fell asleep?" Tim murmured, voice sounding a million miles away as he kisses down your neck.
"I guess, if I didn't see your texts." You shift uncomfortably when you realize how close he's getting to your chest, the exact one you had just tried hiding the same night, "I-I'm sorry."
He mutters slightly, the unheard words warm in your ear, a small hum reverberating out of his chest as he presses an ear to yours.
You blink down at him, confused at his actions. He had started kissing you like he wanted to start something, but now it just looked like he was playing Doctor, "Tim?"
He peers up at you, blue eyes piercing into you, staring like he wasn't currently pressing up into your body like some sort of cat,
"Yea?"
You quirk an eyebrow, "What are you doing?"
He grins a bit, not at all giving anything away -if there was even anything, he had his quicks just like rest of his family- before moving back up to press a kiss to your temple. Hands sliding down to press his thumbs to your pulse points for a few seconds before pulling away,
"It's nothing baby don't worry about it." He pulls away, shifting off at you, "Did you go out?"
"No I just stayed in," You say off handedly, watching him begin to strip down to his boxers; freeing his no doubt sore muscles from his suit as he groans in relief, "Jessica is in Bludhaven for some school thing, so no one to really go out with."
He shrugs, "You could've just gone next door to Stephanie. She was off tonight."
You scoff, plopping down sideways onto the bed as your eyes rake down each line of his back, soaking him up, watching him glisten, "I am not asking your ex to go out with me to a club, that sounds like a threesome situation. No offense."
Tim snorts, "Just what kind of videos are you watching?"
"You already know." You tease, and you can practically hear him smirking, "The same ones as you."
His suit finally goes limp on the ground, pooling around his feet in a red puddle.
He sighs, body glistening with sweat when he stretches out. Each muscle twitching perfectly under the skin. Your eyes soak up the scene, and you hate how you feel something bitter shift in your stomach.
Tim fit most of the 'check-lists' for masculinity, body wise at least. He was short, yet he made up with it for how bulky he was. Each muscle worked and sculped to the bone from years of jumping around from rooftop to rooftop.
And from how your throat dries? How your stomach begins to flip? How you feel your teeth begin to knaw down into your bottom teeth?
You can't tell if you're feeling arousal or jealousy.
"Like what you see?" He taunts a little, grinning ear to ear; and you're acutely aware of the bed beginning to creak as he leans over you. Hand cemented by your head, supporting him.
"Yea." You offer what has to be a lame smile, because he's back to smothering you again. Each kiss a sweet reminder of his presence.
Tim hums, straddling one of your thighs so his leg was inside both of yours with ease, "Did you have another nightmare?"
A scoff leaves you, and you can't help but raise an eyebrow, "Who are you, Batman?"
"What did I say about calling me that." Tim groans, but you can feel a snort behind it as he dips down to your neck; trying to access the skin under your hoodie, "I have a much cooler name."
"You're interrogating me." You slightly pout, and he grumbles when you slap a hand on his forehead - forcefully pushing him up, "Why? What's with all the sudden questions?"
He paused, eyes chasing off, gaze scattering for a moment - and you can feel your heart rate pick up a bit when his face suddenly gets all too serious,
"There was a crime tonight..." Tim mutters, grabbing your wrist to press small kiss to the palm.
You wince, that sentence could mean that condiment man got loose again and put mustard instead of ketchup on somebodies hotdog, or that Joker had just blown up half the city again.
Hesitation laces your words, "What kind of crime?"
"This girl..." Tim pauses, and you know you've been doped when his dopey smirk comes on, "People have been saying she's been walking down the streets, stealing everyone's hearts tonight. Because she's just too pretty."
You can feel your face deadpan as he bursts into laughter, the only audience member in his own comedy club as you just lay there.
"You stole that from Dick," You mutter, trying to hide your embarrassment at being pranked as you push him off you, "Didn't you?"
He gasps, "Of course not!"
You huff.
"My own girlfriend, doesn't believe in my very own detective skills." Tim sighed, pressing a few more kisses up your jawline; and you can't help but sigh a little when he presses a deep and final one to your lips, "But since you're asking," he smirks against your mouth, "You smell like the make-up wipes you use after you go out, and your eyes are all red like when you're a sad drunk."
You blink at him and he snickers at your reaction.
"See, I'm good." Tim mutters, pressing a small peck to your lips, "I can figure anything out, just like how I can figure out..." he grins, eyes catching yours, "How you wearing my clothes in really turning me on right now."
A yelp flies through the air as he's suddenly yanking you to the edge of the bed by the ankles, hooking your legs on his shoulders as he's all too quick to kneel before you on the ground.
He's quick to work with you, kissing passionate, open kisses to the insides of your thighs; leaving you squirming, leaving you wanting. His grin practically tattoo's to the inner skin of your legs as he worked his way up, hands following his mouth before he's hooking onto the waist band of your pants.
"T-Tim-" You mutter weakly, hands stiff at your sides and his eyes gaze up to yours.
And you hope he doesn't notice.
You really hope he doesn't notice.
You really hope he doesn't notice how pale you have to look, how your teeth feel like their rattling in your jaw from how nervous you suddenly are, how your teeth are curled into your bottom lip.
You really hopes he doesn't see you stiffen, your hands tight and curled at your side instead of loosing yourself in his hair.
Because before this, it had been fine.
You had put off all your thoughts of unhappiness at your gender to the side, pushed away your questioning, thought you could turn it all off with a flick of a light switch.
But you couldn't.
And now your body just looked...
Wrong.
As wrong as the thoughts in your head.
And you really hoped he didn't notice.
But of course he did.
Because he's Tim Drake.
One of the best detectives in the world.
You could hear a pin drop.
You blink at his sudden stiffness, those bright eyes of his just staring at you in the dark before you shift up slightly; shimmying back on the bed when his hands fall.
"Tim?" You call out weakly, watching him finally blink out of his gear grinding haze, "You okay?"
He's all too quick to explain, "You're making that face."
You raise an eyebrow at him.
"Like when I wanted to take you grappling." Tim muttered, kissing a small peck to the inside of your knee, "You're doing the face you do when you don't want to do something."
"Tim-"
"No, you're tired." He leans forwards to press a small kiss to the soft of your stomach, "I'm sorry, I kept you up."
He groans as he stands, hands smoothing out your his pajama pants.
"W-Wait Tim-"
"It's fine, seriously." He says, his tone genuine and you can feel yourself practically relax - the shame still burning hot in your ears and you hope to hell he doesn't notice.
He interlaces his fingers with yours; pressing a searing kiss to each knuckle. Lips soft against your skin, curved into a smirk, "Not all of us have the late-night skills of an ass-kicking vigilante. Get some sleep, we'll go out for some coffee tomorrow."
You can only nod, not noticing how he's glancing back at you with every step.
"Babe."
You flinch when you suddenly feel a hand on your forearm, your latte clutched - untouched - in your hand. Tim's attention completely on you, leaning across the small circular table at the cafe you both like.
"You okay?"
Your coffee is long cold in your hand before you let go, "Yea, I'm sure." An easy smile rises to your face when you intertwine both of your fingers, "Is something wrong?"
Tim's brows do that thing, arching down at a barely regonizable 10 degree angle before he no doubt forces his expression back to complete normacy,
"No. Nothing."
His short words make you wince as he squeezes your hand, the skin warm and comforting against yours.
He looks at you head on, blunt but not unkind, "You've just been acting off, I just wanna make sure you're comfortable. That's all." He shrugs.
"Off?" You blink, feigning ignorance that you're praying he cant see through. All because you're squeezing his hand. All because you are off, because everything isn't alright, because you're lying straight to your boyfriends face, "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry." You sheepishly grin, "I guess with exams and everything I'm just a little more tired than usual."
Tim gaze wanders to look at a group of gossips nearby, and you can tell he's anaylzing something in his head before he's turning back towards you, "Is that why you were crying yesterday?"
Your heart staggers and you press a small kiss to his knuckle, "Yea, just calc and chemistry." You sigh quietly, "You know how it is."
He furrows his eyebrows a bit, "You're wearing a hoodie and sweatpants in 70 degree weather too."
"Tim," You're all to quick despite how your mouth goes dry, how your heart rate picks up, leaning in slightly, "Baby, I just didn't feel like doing my hair or makeup today. And you know I can't have a good outfit and a butter face."
Tim's eyebrows arch down, "Butter face? You don't have a butter face, you're gorgeous."
Your heart clenches in a way you don't like at that last word, "You know what I mean."
He hums, taking in your words, analyzing them, poking through them like some sort of interrogating scientist. All before he nods, seemingly okay with your answer, "Alright, don't push yourself. Burn out is real, you know? Will snatch you up like the Joker."
You can't help but snort, and you see him smirk right back, "Says you."
Pulling away, Tim finally seems content when you take a sip of your coffee. The silence that falls over you is a blanket of comfort now before your ears begin to trinkle in the voices of others.
"So she's not a model?" One girl squawked from a table a few ways away from you.
"I know right?" Another whispered, her keeping quiet skills all too rusty, "I searched her up when they started dated, because its Tim Drake, duh - and she's just a university student!"
"She's so pretty..." The first one murmured again, "She's like- perfect."
You put your coffee cup back down, the drink barely heating up your lips before you turn your head away; looking out a near-by window as you try and swallow down something you can't even chew.
Tim narrows his eyes.
Permanent?
'Permanency: Once your voice deepens, facial hair grows, or male-pattern baldness sets in, these traits will generally remain if you stop taking testosterone'
The words slowly churn in your brain as you scroll through the site, eyes flickering from word to word with a quiet intensity.
Potential pain during Sexual Intercourse, a second puperty, worse B.O., oiler skin, bad acne. Your hand runs over your face at the thought, scrolling through effects as little from facial hair to death from blood clots or even liver failure.
It feels like something is sitting at your chest, eating away at your heart as you read through the articles. Your nails chipped away at by your teeth.
If it was a phase, which it still could be - right? You could be bald for the rest of your life, get horrible acne which already took years to get rid of, and even die from something in your body just straight up shutting down.
And sex...
Tim wasn't shy about his needs or wants, only somewhat when trying new things; but he would break into your house sometimes just to do a quickie or give you oral.
You groan, thumb almost bleeding as you chew. So not only could you be bald with acne like a tween boy, not only could you take away your looks like your boyfriend loves so much, but you could also be unable to give him sex.
You can't even think about the risks with gender re-asignment surgery.
"Did Bruce Wayne die or something?"
Your gaze rises when the chewing across from you stops, Duke sitting there - for some reason slurping down his cereal.
"Or are you just getting nervous. Plotting to kill me or something?" He paused, "Answer the second one first..."
"Just exams..." You force out a breathy laugh, "I have a bunch this week and y'know, they're all kinda a big part of my grade."
"Tell me about it." Duke snorts, spoon clinking in his bowl, "Izzys been freaking the fuck out too. No matter how much I tell her she'll be fine."
"Yea." You agree off-handedly, making empty conversation, "I miss Izzy we'll all have to hang out again."
"Speaking of which." Duke plopped his spoon down, "Izzy wanted me to ask you if you'd be down for shopping together. She digs your clothes. Your look. Y'know, all that. Apparently your makeup is good or something." He shrugs, "Pinterest postable."
"Sure, we can go after finals, I'm kinda swamped right now - you get it. But when its all said and done..." You nod, giving him a small smile.
"Thanks, seriously." Duke licked his lips, "She's been freaking out a bit lately. She's never been into the whole makeup thing. Since she was in 'We Are Robin' she was out kicking ass rather than practicing normal kid stuff."
Your eyebrow quirks at that, "You don't need makeup to fit in."
"Yea. She knows. She like your glam though." Duke took a spoon full of mushy cheerios, "Says you're like the 'pinnacle' of femineity." He mutters, "Something like that."
You feel something in the back of your mind burn.
"Thinks your outfits are some vogue shit and stuff too." Duke rambles a little, perking up a bit, "She's pretty fucking into fashion and stuff like that. Or, trying to be. You-"
Duke can barely blink before you're out of the room, much less before your chair - the stool- clatters on the ground.
You barely look at Dick and Jason, accidentally hitting them on your dash up their stairs; shoulders bumping so quickly you almost teeter over. Barely getting an apology out before you're slamming Tim's door shut.
Silence.
Duke pokes his head out of the kitchen gingerly as his two fellow bats just stand there.
Jason snorted, "Nice job, Narrows."
"What the fuck did I do?" Duke threw his hands out, more flabbergasted than upset.
"Duke." Dicks voice creeped in, like he was debating something, "I would totally run for it, y'know. If you don't want to wake up with your phone hacked tomorrow. Your phone leaked on every prank site in Gotham." He grins, quirking an eyebrow, "Maybeeeee, before Timbo gets home?"
"Man, it's always fucking me." Duke groans, already on his way out, "Why is it always fucking me!?"
The door barely creaks open hours later, and you don't dare to move. You know who it is, it can only be one person. You're in his house, in his room, in his bed, in his clothes.
And he's on you.
The bed dips and his breathe is warm on your neck when he presses a kiss to your pulse point, a weak spot for you. You can barely think about what to say to him with how tight your chest is, how heavy your eyes feel, how dry you lips are when you press them together; so you don't say anything, staying quiet even as he hovers over you.
"Babe."
You freeze at how sure he sounds, and you already know it before he says it,
"I know you're awake." Tim sighs, muttering in your neck, "Your pulse is racing."
It's silent, deathly so, even eerie.
"Can you sit up and look at me?" He tries, voice going weak when he doesn't even see you flinch, "P-Please?"
His voice cracks and you can feel your heart break, your body slowly turning over to face him; and you can feel the worry raditating off of him.
"There you are." He jokes quietly, eyes soft as he looks at you. He motions his hands, but hesitates when he goes to touch you. Pausing before speaking, "Come on, sit up."
You do so, the worry evident enough on his face; evident enough to fuel your aching, tired, body to sit up. Yet you can't even face him, body facing the wall instead of him as he kneeled at your hip - weighing down the mattress.
His eyes look over you, scan you, analyze you like one of his cases - gaze not leaving you in the dark.
He doesn't take a moment, "You've been acting weird."
You open your mouth.
"And don't say its from exams again," He sounds desperate, pleading, and you can feel your gut churning in your stomach, "Please, please just- just talk to me. There's obviously something wrong."
You hesitate, voice quiet, "Tim-"
"You don't even have to tell me what it is," He pleads, voice shaky, "You don't even have to- to allude to anything. I can figure it out, you know I can. I've done if before, I'll do it again, if you'll let me. I'll hack into the deepest of data bases, I'll hack into the computers of the most dangerous men alive, I'll hack into the pentagon, I'll go on the wildest of goose chases - just for you. You don't even have to tell me a thing, just say the word. Just give me permission. I'll figure it out-"
"You can't-"
"I'll fix it." He says, words certain, "I'll fix it, I'll fix everything."
"It's not just-" You can't even look at him, voice watery when you turn your head away; hand shadowing your face, hiding you from the world, your world, from him, "You can't just hack it away, i-it's not something you can fix."
He's quiet, firm, "Then I'll learn how to fix it."
You squeeze your eyes shut, crying, "You can't."
His voice cracks now, "Why?"
"Because its not fixable!" You snap, and you can feel the blanket taunt under you when his fingers curl into it, "It can't be fixed its just-"
"Everything can be fixed. Everything can be fixed. Everything." Tim pushed, eyebrows furrowing, "Even- Even if it doesn't seem like it, with time, with love, with you and me together, everything can- will be fixed." He sighs, "It'll be fine, that's what I promised when I started dating you isn't it? I can't back out now, I won't."
"Tim its not that simple." You groan, irritation bumbling up under your skin. Not at him- no never at him. At yourself, at your sheer selfishness. Your selfishness for feeling this way, your selfishness for making him worry, "I can't just- you wouldn't understand-"
"You don't think I'd understand?" He mutters, pursing his lips - and this sudden look of determination crosses his face, "Show me your arms."
You falter, voice going flat; and you almost laugh, you almost laugh, "Are you fucking serious?"
Tim groans, almost tearing the hair out of his head, "How can I not be?!"
"You seriously think its that?!"
"Even if it isn't, I'm asking you to trust me! Please!" He sucks in a breathe, taking a moment to calm himself; hand running down his face, "Please." He's quiet now, like he's whispering a secret to you, "You know I'd never force you to say or do anything, you know I wouldn't do anything to ever make you uncomfortable." He paused, "Unless it meant protecting you." He grimaces, "So please, just show me. Don't make me get on my computer. Don't make me snoop around. Don't make me stalk around for weeks just to find out. Don't make me do this. So just show me."
Silence.
He barely breathes, "Trust me."
A pause.
You hear him release a held breathe, scrambling back to stand in front of you as you scoot to the end of the bed. Sitting on its edge.
There's hesitation when you realize you're not wearing a shirt, or even a sports bra -your go to these days- but you silently peel his sweatshirt off your figure. Kicking off his pants awkwardly.
The fabric pools together like a wet puddle next to your feet, and your hands come up to do an 'x' across your chest - covering yourself, covering something that feels shameful, like it's not supposed to be there.
He doesn't waste even a moment, and he quickly pushes forwards, working through his obvious hesitation given the context of the situation. Eyes grazing over your chest in concern for a moment, confusion, heartbreak at how your suddenly covering yourself from him. Before he probably realizes that's not his course of direction right now.
Apologies, shuddering ones, fall quietly from his lips as he examines every inch of your skin. Scanning. Carving his gaze into your cells. Like if he didn't look ten times over he would miss something.
He moves from your shoulders, to your collarbone, to your stomach, to your navel, to your thighs. By the end of it, he's kneeling in front of you, head plopping down on your closed knees in relief. You can practically feel his sweat seeping onto you, pooling. His lips grazing your skin as he whispers tiny, 'thank gods' into it.
You don't miss a beat when he finally raises his head, gaze searching yours at - and you can barely look at him.
"Is it your family? Your friends?" Tim says quietly, eyebrows arched down in a quiet plea, "Me?"
"I'm fine." You mutter bluntly, eyes wet and avoidant.
"School?" He rakes over your form, "Did I hurt you during sex? Did I say something wrong? Did I do something wrong?"
"Tim-"
"You know I'll change anything-"
"Tim!" You snap, your heart squeezing in your rips.
And you hate it.
You hate how loving he is, no matter how you act, no matter what you do. You hate how he thinks every problem in your relationship is himself. You hate how he's on his knees, on his knees begging you for answer, begging you to trust him. You hate how you're slowly chipping away at him, slowly chipping away at his character with your own selfishness.
"Is it-" He swallows a lump in his throat, looking up at you with those warm, loving, eyes, "Is it your body? Your face? Is that why you've been doing your makeup at 3 AM? Is that why you were crying when I came home? Is that why your heart was racing, did someone say something mean to you? Is that why you're covering yourself?"
You swallow.
He shifts,
"You-" he shifts, concern gnawing at him, "Are the most beautiful girl in the world-"
"I don't want to be!" You sob, the tension in your head finally snapping as your tears fall; curling down your face, "What if I don't wanna be the most beauitful girl in the world?!"
He just stares at you.
And so you're just sitting there, wailing. Crying and sobbing while you're sitting there only in your underwear, with a crazy sense of bed head. Tim kneeling infront of you, and you're not in the best state of mind right now - but you're fairly certain if anyone walked in, they'd say to send you to Arkham.
You wail, "Y-You hiccup don't u-under- hiccup-"
Tim can barely understand you through your blubbering, or that's what you think. Because he's just sitting there, kneeling infront of you like some sort of devoted believer, staring up at you with those wide confused eyes. And your heart feels like its shattering into a million pieces.
Because now you're certain this is the last night he will ever love you.
Because all the pent up emotions, the ones that began to bleed through the depths of your mind days ago, weeks ago, years ago begin to resurface. All the thoughts, all the doubts you've ever had, they're swirling in your head, swimming, running, like a wretch to a finely tuned set of gears.
How you felt like you were going through a phase where you were a tom-boy in 3rd grade. How you forced femineity on yourself to finally get along with the other girls, so the boys would stop bullying you, so you would finally fit in. How you used to scroll through videos, through sub-reddits, envying all the people who completely passed as their true gender. As their true selves - having the freedom to do so, the courage. How you almost transitioned back in 2020 during the pandemic, only to push it off as a 'cringey second phase' before pushing your basket ball shorts aside and buying yet another stick of water proof mascara.
"Hey, hey-" Tim shushed.
And thats when you realized you said it all outloud.
He's quick, rushing to wipe the tears and drool thats blubbering all over your face. Hands firm as they press into your tearducts, not even flinching before sullying his own fingers with your spit.
"I- hiccup- ruin every- hiccup- everyt-thing-" You cry, trying to wipe the tears from your face. He catches your fingers instead, cradling them in his.
Tim doesn't even frown, not even a dash of disappointment on his face as you wailed. He just sat there, grounding you with his hands, with just his mere Prescence, really. Fingers tapping twice against the back of your hands before morphing into a soothing rub, trying to calm you.
"M'-" you sniffle, "M' such a- hiccup- bother-"
A sharp exhale left him, gentle, quiet - disbeliving in your words,
"You're not bothering me," The words are simple, but they naw at your heart when he says them, "I'm always here for you. I just wish you knew that."
Because he's Tim.
Your Tim.
And when his hands curl around yours tighter, comforting - not confining - squeezing? You want to break down all over again.
"I-I am though, you're always talking about how when you first saw me - how it was love at first sight." You rambled, sobbing, "I don't want to be bald, and sexless, and have blood clots, and heart problems before I'm thirty- because that would be so fucking stupid!"
He pauses, words low yet steady, "You're talking about Testosterone."
"W-What if I wake up one day and decide it was all a m-mistake?" You don't even try to stop the tears now, "Fuck- Fuck- what if I wake up and feel like this all over again, just- and I just want to be a girl again? It would be s-so- so stupid- so-"
You sniffle, and he just sits there, listening,
"I'm just so scared." You finally mumble, you finally admit it, "About everything."
"I know..." He says after a moment, hands sliding up to cradle either side of your face, "Not that exactly-" He sighs, "But- I get it. The fear?" His voice is quiet, "All my years as Red Robin- Hell, my whole life. I have spent every day. Every night. Every hour pretending that everything is fine. Because that's what the Drakes did. Because thats what the Waynes do. That's what the bats do." He stands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "But not you. You're different. You're you. And that's why I love you. I love how soft you are. I love how strong you are. I love how kind you are. I love you. Not some image of you. So even if you're bald, even if you have ten heart conditions? I'm still going to be right there." He sighs, scoffing a bit, "Because the chance for even having those is barely over 20 percent by the way."
"It'll still be different." You mutter, words wet when he presses your foreheads together.
"No. It wont." Tim pushed, "You wont be stupid, or anything less to than everything to me." He breathes in your scent, taking in it, not even minding your messy hair, "You'll just finally be you. You'll be the real you. You'll be the real you, who's hiding under all that makeup and jewelry." He pulls you into his chest, hugging you tight like you'd suddenly just vanish, like you're a thing to cherish, "And it you do wake up one day and decide its all bullshit, if you wake up and decide differently. We'll figure it out together." He snorts softly, "Even if you are balder than Alfred."
You can't help but giggle at that last part, his heartbeat helping to steady your mind before he's leaning down; kissing away all the dried tears from your face, licking away the salt.
"Besides," He leans down, begin to kiss down your neck; nuzzling into you so you're chest to chest, "How many times have I told you to test your hypothesis." A click of the tounge, a smirk, "You can't keep jumping to conclusions."
"That doesn't count." You huff, voice still crackly and he presses a soft kiss to your mouth, "There was no way to test this one."
He grins against your lips, "Only bad scientists say that. Looks like you still have a lot of training. Baby Bird."
You huff, weakly pushing him back yet he goes anyways.
Tim bounds to his computer after pulling away, pouncing into his chair and spinning around a few times before locking in. Pulling up to his computer.
"What are you doing?" You slur a little, tired from your sudden outburst - yet content, settled.
"Doing some research for my handsome boyfriend of course," And he grins when you flush at his words, "Get dressed. We'll buy you some clothes right now."
"I don't have any money..." You mumble sheepishly, watching him quirk an eyebrow at you.
He shakes his head, shit eating grin reaching his face, "Just because you're a guy, doesn't mean you're paying. Not for this. Not for coffee. Not for anything." He swings around as you pull on his sweatshirt, "Bruce is paying!"
__________
Alfred clears his throat, "Goldfish, sir."
A low sound resonates in Bruces chest, sighing as he chose his next move.
Alfred smirks at his next card, "Very well Sir, lets see how well you fend against-"
Bruce head snaps around.
Alfred raises an eyebrow, "Sir? Sha'll I fetch the Bat-mobile?"
