Summary: You already knew of their secret identity…it’s just fun to mess with them when you bring their dad into it.
a/n: This idea has been in me for days, and here it is! Enjoy!
Dick Grayson
“Superman is a way better superhero than Wonder Woman!”
Dick wasn’t trying to put Diana under the bus, but he had to make a point.
“He has super speed, Godly strength, heat vision—oh, did I mention, he could fly.”
Dick listed all these things and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing, I just didn’t realize how passionate you were about Superman.”
“Well, duh, who wouldn’t look up to Superman.”
You hummed, “that’s true. But you gotta admit, Batman is so much cooler…and much sexier.”
Dick stopped eating.
It was like he was kicked in the balls.
“What?”
“Batman is—”
“Don’t worry, sweets, I heard you. But what the hell?”
“What, you know Batman personally?”
“No, no! It’s just—Batman, am I right?”
“No, I don’t if you’re right.”
“It’s just Batman doesn’t have superpowers—”
“But isn’t it impressive that he could keep up with the league?”
“He looks like a bad communicator—”
“How would you know that—”
“He wears his underwear outside of his suit, I mean, who does that?”
“Superman.”
“Oh.”
Dick looks back at his food and shoves the spoon in his mouth.
He looks back at you and points the spoon at you, “you gotta admit, though, Nightwing is far better than Batman.”
You rolled your eyes,
“You mean Batman’s Walmart version? Yeah, I kinda have to pass on that.”
He smashed his face on his food.
“Dick!”
He straightened his back and put his palms together in front of his face, he sighed,
“Nightwing is the younger, hotter, smarter version of Batman! What’s there not to love about him?”
You grabbed a tissue on the table and wiped the food off his face, “I mean, he’s too overly perfect.”
He grabbed your wrist, “Isn’t that a good sign? He could be your boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but it almost seems like he’s untouchable. He’s known as Gotham’s golden child for a reason.”
“I’m telling you, sweets, he’s very much touchable.”
You laughed at this. Of course he would say that about himself. You shook your head.
“So is Batman! And he has emotional baggage, plus points for character development.”
“Trust me, honey, he will not be getting better anytime soon.”
You both stared at each other, and started laughing.
“Okay, okay. You might have a point there.”
He nodded and went back to eating.
“I still think he’s hotter than Nightwing, though—”
Motherfu—
Jason Todd
He turned on the television and turned the channel to the news. He was in the kitchen, inches away from the living room where you stayed. You were lounging around with a book in your hands.
He heard vaguely, “Breaking news: Batman has thrown the Joker in jail the sixth time this week. Hopefully, it will not turn into the seventh time—”
He tunes the news out, opting to focus on breakfast.
“Wow. Batman is hot!”
He stopped stirring the bowl and set it down as calmly (it wasn’t calm) as possible.
You looked back.
“Dear, are you alright—”
“Batman is hot?”
“I mean, yeah—”
“Batman is hot?”
“You repeating it just makes it truer.”
“I—ugh.”
Jason puts a palm in his face. He then drops his hand and reaches for the whisk and the bowl. He started calmly stirring again.
“Batman is not hot.”
“I mean, it’s in terms of preference—”
“Batman is not hot.”
“Do you just repeat what you say?”
He got a pan under the sink and started heating it by the stove.
“Darling, he doesn’t kill the criminals. And then they break out and give havoc back in Gotham. If you ask me, he’s just as guilty as the criminals he fights.”
“That’s true, if he didn’t stick to his morals, he would have been the perfect vigilante.”
He nodded and put his hand over the pan. Once it’s hot enough, he started pouring the pancake batter on the pan.
“Doesn’t mean he’s hot, though.”
He grunted and flipped the pancake using a spatula.
“Red Hood is way hotter.”
You blinked. Because—
“Who?”
Jason whipped his head towards you, “what do you mean, ‘who?’ uh, the best vigilante of all time!”
“...who?”
“The guy with the cool motorcycle? His main weapon is guns? The one with the red mask—”
“Oh! The creepy lookin’ one? Isn’t he like, a villain, though?”
You think you smelled burning in the kitchen.
Tim Drake
You placed the coffee mug down near his computer.
“Here you go, you coffee freak.”
“Thanks.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Collecting data for the new launch of the new technology in the Wayne Enterprises.”
You settled down on the couch beside his desk.
“Oh, poor me, I should have never been involved with a CEO.”
You put one of the back of your hands on your forehead and shake your head slightly.
“Yes, yes. Poor you, you have money.”
You barked out a laugh and leaned towards him.
“Hey.”
“What.”
“Hey.”
“What.”
You put a palm to your chin. Resting as your head on it while you watch your lover.
“Don’t you ever wonder what kind of gadgets Batman has?”
He looked at you. Squinted.
“Doesn’t he have…weapons?”
“I mean, obviously he does. But maybe he has other kind of weapons that could—”
He raised his hand and shoved it a little forward.
“Nope. I don’t wanna hear it.”
You pouted, “C’mon, it’s a hot thought!”
“He has at least 10,000 batarangs, 12,000 gas pellets, at least 200 grappling hooks, and other suits like Hellbat, Justice Buster, and Thrasher.”
You squinted, “Did you just hack the Bat?”
He shrugged, “You can’t really hack if you have access.”
“Well, you wouldn’t know he would be hiding that kind of stuff in whatever place he hides his gadgets. He’d probably hide them where nowhere else could find it. You know, because it’s a secret.”
Tim thought for a moment, your logic does make sense. I mean, after learning the way he talks to Catwoman in an unwanted call. It makes perfect sense.
“That’s…possible. You’d best be fit with Red Robin anyway.”
You smiled at this, “Red Robin, huh?”
He does not like your tone.
“Sounds like Red Robin doesn’t know when to move on being a Robin.”
He blinked. And did a double take.
“What a freaky little shit.”
What.
“He is the most intelligent Robin that Batman has ever had! He is the Brains of the operation for a reason—”
“Gives him more of a reason to stick to the title as ‘Robin’, no?”
God, he needs another coffee.
Damian Wayne
You and Damian are walking around Gotham finding art supplies for your date late that day. Until you stop by a toy shop and look out the window.
“What is it, beloved?”
“Look,” you pointed at the Batman plushie, “Isn’t he cute?”
He looks at the Robin beside it, “I see.”
You both walked forward and you continued to speak, “Sometimes I forget Batman is actually alive, you know? He’s plastered like some celebrity.”
He nodded, “I agree. Civilians should stop idolizing Batman and see him for what he truly is: a man who beats up criminals because he sold his soul to the devil.”
You whistled, “a little dark, don’t you think?”
“That is how Batman is to be perceived.”
“But you have to admit, though, he is quite sexy.”
Damian’s mind stopped for a second. And then two.
“You have sexual feelings for Batman?”
“Not as much I do for you,”
Damian turns pink at this, “But he does have a nice body.”
Damian muttered, “that could be said about Robin.”
You widened your eyes, “Dami!”
“What is it, beloved?”
“Did you just imply that I should look at Robin in a sexual way?”
“Well, why couldn’t you—”
“Dami! He’s a 12 year old boy.”
He blinked.
He forgot about that.
“A literal child!”
“Beloved, I didn’t mean it in that way—Robin is just adorable that’s all—”
“So you do want me to be a pedophile! Is that how low you thought of me? Thinking of a child that way.”
You just shook your head and laughed.
“So, which Robin were you referring to? Nightwing? Red Hood? Red Robin?”
Summary: You worked the late shift at a small Gotham diner. Jason Todd was just another regular—or at least, that's what you thought. Between shared looks, "accidental" free meals, and quiet walks home before sunrise, the routine became something neither of you wanted to lose. In Gotham, however, even the safest routines can change in an instant, and Jason never planned on being forced to save you as Red Hood.
Warnings: Attempted armed robbery, gun violence, brief physical violence, mentions of panic/shock, emotional distress, fluff, comfort, not edited
WC: 4693
You couldn’t pin the exact moment you decided Jason Todd would be the love of your life. It had happened so quickly after all. One moment the two of you were meeting at the small diner you worked at, lingering at his table just long enough to make it questionable after dropping his order off. You had made sure to give the larger guy in your sectioned booth some extra attention that night. Besides from the obvious attraction that you had towards his physical stature–you always did a double take with big boys–you couldn’t pinpoint what made you so insistent on being present.
You’d watched men come in exhausted before.
None of them made you want to refill their coffee before they even asked, or ensure that every need was taken care of before they even lifted a finger.
Jason didn’t know why the waitress had been so nice to him tonight, but after the day he had, it was a small kindness the world allowed him.
The patrol earlier had done him in. The images of a trafficking ring he had busted off the pier officially soured his thoughts enough to where he once again found himself hating humanity. Realizing this in their rotation, Dick had covered his route for the night whilst Jason was under strict instructions to take the night off. It was that same night that he had met you, the nice waitress who gave him an extra shake because you ‘accidentally’ wrote it on the ticket–but don’t worry, he wouldn’t have to pay for it.
Jason had watched you write the ticket.
There was no mention of a shake there.
It was that simple gesture that allowed a small, barely visible smile to rise to his cheeks, allowing himself a small reprieve from the horrid thoughts of the previous encounter.
From that night on, Jason had sought out that same kindness as he himself admitted to being drawn to, the soft expression of his quickly becoming favorite waitress.
After the first couple appearances, you had begun to talk to the regular named Jason. He was a bit of an enigma at first, being soft spoken and slightly awkward when you began to speak to him about more than just if he wanted fries. Quickly however, the man had found his footing as each night that passed the conversations got longer and longer. You learned that he worked as a private security escort, mostly on contract basis. According to him, his hours were flexible as he could choose when and where he wanted to go for work. The news had brought you a warm bubble in your chest that at the time you couldn’t name.
As one of the few diners open as late as it was, Jason could almost always count on a warm meal, quiet ambiance of soft spoken conversations, and you.
Your hours have been brutal at best, but you defend them with your life. As a young woman Gothamite, working past the sun setting was a gamble with death to many. However, your diner was open into the wee hours of the morning, just before the sun made its reappearance. Someone had to work the shift. It wasn’t as though the owners were ignorant to the risks of it all. When you had started working at this little place, they had been more than adamant that you were clocked out and back within the safety of your apartment before the sun even set on the big Wayne Enterprises building off in the distance. However, as your time and experience increased within the diner, you quickly became important and evidently filled into a manager’s position when the last one had gotten mugged and quit.
One of the bat’s had gotten the mugger on the way home, and upon his trial, the previous manager’s payout was enough to retire early…the lucky bastard.
But your employers had taken it seriously, understanding the risk that came with this position and hours required. In turn, they had offered a pretty hefty check to accompany you with these late nights.
Earlier on in the quick chats with Jason, you had mentioned this consistent worknight clock-in, even going as far as hinting around at the reasoning as to why. In the end, it made sense to you for the risk it induces.
That was the first night that Jason had walked you home.
He had adjusted his patrol after that, ensuring everything to be wrapped up and finished by the time the diner had closed at the latest as to meet you outside. It was a habit that had quickly become a favorite time of the day for you. There had even been some close calls where the famous Red Hood helmet and signature utility belt had been stashed away behind a nearby bush as to make your trek home safer. He had prayed that day that the large leather jacket he had zipped up hid the thick armor and prominent red bat symbol beneath.
It didn’t take long for some of the world’s greatest detectives to find out about Jason’s crush, although you were completely ignorant to it all (like many other things).
Dick found out about it first. With his little wing sneaking off around the same time each morning, only to return almost exactly the same amount of time later, he had been inclined to sneak after him one day. After coming to the conclusion that Jay did in fact have a crush (let alone with a civilian–thank GOD someone had to be somewhat normal in this family), he lasted a single hour before Jason knew what happened.
Along with making Grayson swear on his dead parent’s, he had ensured that Dick knew to keep his mouth shut about her and not tell a soul. Surprisingly, true to his promise, the secret had remained that way for months now, and Jason couldn’t be more content.
You really liked Jason.
Like really, really, liked Jason.
He was kind, and funny, and smart, and his hands–
Your cheeks flushed. Currently, you had been working your shift without a hitch and sure enough the ring of the bell that only came at this hour brought the boy you had just been thinking about. You couldn’t control the large smile that had reached your eyes when your gaze met his. In those same hands, was an old novel, as he had quickly made his way to the signature booth that you kept free all evening for him to sit at.
It was also the only booth that you could sneak glances at without being obvious while you stood at the register counter.
You could be sneaky, but in this you also felt there wasn’t any harm with a couple glances while Jason turned a page.
Hearing a little ‘ding’ from the food bar, you scooted over to the small basket of fries and shake that rested there ready to serve. Picking it up, you bounced over to the familiar booth dropping the basket of fries and chocolate shake.
“Put the wrong ticket in again, ma?” Jason had jested, but was thankful for the gesture. He had loved using that nickname with you. The native Gotham accent on his tongue when he said it guaranteed a small dust of red to fill your cheeks. Shrugging your shoulders, you played along.
“That’s strange…” You had trailed off, scanning over the very obviously blank notepad that had been in your apron, “Looks right to me?” The small giggle that rushed out of you was bells to Jason’s ears.
“There is no way you are done with the other one already.” You deadpanned aghast with the new bound book on the table. It had a different font and name from the one just the day before, which was a bit of a stretch if he truly read it all in one day.
“I read fast.” Jason allowed his own warm smile to adorn his face whilst raising his brows.
“Nobody I know can read that fast, Jay.”
“You know other people?” The brunt quip had you smacking his shoulder with an open mouthed look of disbelief.
Conversation flowed endlessly between the two of you, until eventually the small buzz of his phone signaled his time had come to an end. As soon as it sounded, his hand had reached to grab the familiar device in the busted black case. You were very grateful to have gotten his number many visits ago, even texting him (almost) daily with updates or to continue a conversation you two had whilst you were on shift. It also made his trips home with you much easier to coordinate. Quickly finishing up the small gift of his food, Jason threw on his signature leather jack that looked oh so good on him, and made his way towards the door.
“You mind holding onto that until I come get you later?” Giving a quick gesture to the similarly leather bound book, you had given a sure nod back.
“You got it, I’ll keep it up at the stand.”
“Don’t let anyone steal it.” You snorted at the notion.
“It is Crime and Punishment, Jason.”
“Exactly.”
“Nobody is stealing Crime and punishment.”
“It is a collectors edition, you would be surprised.”
“You're such a weirdo.” Shaking your head, your laughs escaped you freely. The sound echoed through the mostly empty diner, earning a curious glance from the cook in the back.
Assured, Jason gave a cheeky wink.
“Thanks ma.” With the familiar chime of the bell hung above the door, Jason had snuck a last look at your flustered expression before quickly walking off.
Whatever Tim needed better be good.
The night had gone on rather slowly after that. Customers had come and gone with none to note, and the streetlamp outside the door flickered slightly with a gust of wind. Throughout the night you checked in on the book that Jason had left within your care.
The pages were crisp. There had not been a single crease in the corners to signal a doggy-eared’ page marker or any sort of notation on the physical paper. However, one of the things that caught your eye was the numerous amounts of small annotated sticky notes that littered the pages. The handwriting was undoubtedly Jason's, as even the notes reflected the same tone he would talk to you with.
Half of the little notes had been debating the author, putting in his own two cents into the scene with how immersed he was in the narration. The other half consisted of simpler comments such as ‘idiot’ or jabs at characters within the story.
You had even noticed the leather binding of the book carried a small scent of his cologne from where he held it against his body while he walked.
Your phone on the stand buzzed. With the sky steadily beginning to emerge in a slightly lighter shade of blue, your shift was coming to a close rather quickly. As per usual, your kitchen chef had clocked out and closed it down early enough to leave about half an hour early which left you alone within the space.
It wasn’t uncommon.
In fact most nights you closed alone, however lately Jason had taken part in his presence around that time to talk before he walked with you back to your place. It was this thought that brought you back to your buzzing phone.
Jason:
Running a little behind, I’ll be there soon.
You had smiled at the message. Sending a quick thumbs up to the bubble, you began the closing activities. You had wiped down all the booths and tables, shut off the coffee machine, and folded the silverware into the napkins well enough for them not to budge. Finally getting into counting the register from the day, the familiar chime of the bell over the door reminded you of the specific boy that was on his way.
However, what met your warm gaze was not the familiar sight of Jason.
At first it was the hollowed eyes of the man who stood before you. His complexion had been taut, pale at best with sores and cuts along his skin. Loose strands of greasy hair had peaked through under the very obviously dirty jacket.
What you saw next was the handgun he had pointed at you.
Just like himself, the gun was dirty. You prayed it wasn’t dirt from use, but simply the lack of means or care to clean it from the dirty Gotham rain. However, the nasally yell of the man shocked you out of your scared hopes.
“Take the money out, now!” The shock of it all held you frozen in place. Without thinking, your fingers curled around the leather cover resting beside the register.
“Do you want me to shoot you?!” The man’s voice was angrier this time as he waved the weapon, and with it sparked scared tears to collect in your waterline. With a shaky hand, you moved as slowly as possible as to not make the man pull the trigger any harder than he already was.
Evidently, what Tim wanted was a valid excuse to pull him from your presence, although he would never let the kid know that (if he were to ever find out about you). However, the problem had been more complex than either had imagined, which took more time to figure out.
Shooting off the text to you, things began to wrap up within the rooftop meeting.
“I haven’t seen you move that fast probably, ever, Red.” Tim jested as Jason rolled his eyes behind the helmet.
“Fuck off bird.” Jason snipped back before quickly repelling off the side and down towards the streets. Checking his phone again, his message had been acknowledged, but no response came from you following–which was odd.
His hand checked his phone again.
Still nothing.
A small pit of nerves settled into his stomach and with it, his pace quickened.
He always hated the idea of you closing up alone, and when you had told him about the common occurrence it made him ever so adamant to come to your side and ensure your safe walk home personally.
With Jason already being as late as he was, the diner had been close to closed if not already locked with you waiting inside for him. There wasn't any reason to do one quick sweep around the block before heading inside, right?
He adjusted course. Old habits took over as he began his quick assessment.
Chef had left for the night, his car gone from the parking spot he normally takes up with the old civic. What struck him odd was the very bright lights of the diner still being on. Typically, at this point you would have turned off the main lights, leaving only a couple on for you to scroll on your phone under. The ominous glow of the ‘Open” sign was enough to have Jason push his investigation further.
Despite him really not wanting to introduce you to Red Hood, there seemed to be no time as with each quick step he took more and more dread settled in the pit of his stomach. Reaching the door, Jason’s gloved hand threw it open by the handle.
What met his gaze shot a cold shot of terror through his spine.
You had been shaking, standing in front of the barrel of a small handgun. The burglar pointing the weapon had whipped his head around at the sound of Jason entering, meeting the cold white eyes of Red Hood.
“Shit!”
It was over in a flash. You swore your life had flashed before your eyes as Red Hood entered into the diner and caught eyes with the guy trying to rob you. The vigilante had moved like water, which surprised you in hindsight with his large stature. One moment the gun had been pointed at you. The next it clattered across the tile. You weren't sure when it had left the man's hand, but your ears rang with the fire of a couple panicked bullets into the ceiling before it dropped. The dirty man had attempted to fight back and escape his now more violent fate, but to no avail.
Red Hood had been efficient, but brutal. In a finalizing swift punch, the robber had lost consciousness with his thinning body hitting the floor with a ‘thump’.
Your shaking didn’t stop after the danger passed. Clutching Jason’s book to your chest, you had dipped below the manager’s stand and attempted to control your breathing with the soft scent of his leftover cologne. During your attempt to school your oxygen intake, a modulated voice called to you.
“You alright?” All things considered, you had been relatively fine. There weren't any new holes in you, and even the money remained in the cash register. So, overall nothing had been truly lost. However, it was the first time in your life you had felt truly vulnerable and in danger. You didn’t trust your voice as you sent the vigilante a nod.
Police sirens echoed outside, no doubt making their way towards the gunshots that came from the diner.
Red had quickly checked the robber for any more weapons, sliding out zip ties for his hands and ankles as he did. With the unconscious man giving no resistance it was restrained in a moment, and the hulking figure had begun to drag the man’s limp form by his wrists. The ‘ding’ of the door derailed your brain from the current spiral of panic.
Jason was still coming.
Giving a quick peer over the stand, Red Hood had met your uncertain gaze with his stoic helmet. Your eyes glanced between the dirty man and vigilante. He was half in and half out of the doorway, which seemed to be the cause of the bell to ring. Hesitantly, you spoke up.
“Can you put him on the other side of the door?” Red Hood had looked to the right side of the entryway outside the diner. You couldn’t see his expression, but you knew when he looked back to you, a question laid beneath the helmet. “I have someone coming and I don’t want him to freak out.”
Jason froze. Were you talking about him? You had just gone through an arguably traumatic event, and you were worried about what he–Jason Todd–walked up on to take you home?
His throat bobbed as he nodded, the Hood helmet weighing heavier than it had prior on his neck. This needed to wrap up quickly.
He didn’t know what to do. Swirling concerns and questions sat on his tongue as the undeniable fear settled into a constant rock of unease at the whole situation. To him, you were untouchable. Gotham has taken plenty, she had no use for you. To him, the city would never be allowed to touch your gentle light as long as he breathed. Tonight had proven him wrong.
It hadn’t been intentional, in fact it was unavoidable. Out of all of the days in which Jason had sent a text your way about being a bit behind, tonight had been one of the few times that was something he truly couldn’t argue with. The guilt of it all didn’t understand that reason, or it didn’t care. It didn't matter that what he was doing was important. You were vulnerable, someone had violently popped that bubble and as he stood as Red Hood–the guilt-filled anger that often accompanied the red helmet returned in full force.
A frustrated growl tore from the modulator as his fist slammed into the wall. With the vibration of the beam below him, the grimy man groaned in his unconscious state. For a moment, Jason’s mind went to murder, how quick he could remove the problem all together with a swift unholstering of the gun on his thigh.
However, the small yelp of fear that reached his helmet’s enhanced hearing decided against it. You had seen enough for the night and surely didn’t need to see why his signature red had been chosen as his color for work.
Shooting another glance at the still out body, Jason returned to inside the diner.
Hesitating, Jason did not meet your eyes immediately. Selfishly, he didn’t want to have the image of your fear being directed at him, but the pull to check you for injury won.
Scanning his eyes over to you, Jason was surprised to not have been met with hostility or fear. Instead you had moved out from behind the podium slightly with an uncertain relief under your expression. Taking in the damage around, the pit in Jason’s stomach grew. There was silverware scattered around the floor and a broken table from where he had thrown the man back and away from you. Gliding his eyes over to the register podium, the grundy gun laid on the ground not five feet from where you crouched with your eyes on him. Taking smaller steps (so as to not frighten you), Jason had bent down and quickly unloaded the rest of the bullets from the magazine along with the one in the chamber. The distinct sound of them hitting the floor gave himself something to focus on instead of his thoughts spiralling further.
“Thank you.” The fright in your tone was still present as you spoke to the vigilante. However, despite the violent nature of your first meeting with him, you didn’t feel like it was directed at you. He had saved your life, you could thank him for it even if you are scared out of your wits. Jason on the other hand could not believe you spoke to him like this.
People had run screaming from him for less. Yet, here you were, shaking like a leaf and hiding half of your body but forcing yourself to thank him for simply saving your life.
“Are you hurt?” Under the mask, Jason had winced as the specifically designed gravelly modulator made his question sound a lot more intense then he intended it too. Without being able to go up and check you himself (like he so desperately wanted to do), his racing heart would have to make due with your answer. You had scanned over yourself quickly, sending Red Hood a shake of your head.
“No.” You thought for a second, trying to let your brain catch up to your body. “Did you see anyone coming when you were outside?”
You didn’t know where the small confidence came from, maybe it was the shock of how the night progressed. Red Hood had shaken his helmeted head in response.
“Nobody aside from buddy over there.” You choked a bit on your tongue whilst looking down. Desperately, you tried to school the tears that gathered in your eyes. Thankfully you were successful in your efforts. You prayed that Jason would get there soon. Little did you know, Jason also prayed for someone to get to the diner quicker.
The police.
The moment they turned onto the street of the scene, he would be able to un-hood himself and rush back here to finally get you into his embrace. Thank God he had his phone on silent as he watched as you shot multiple texts off, no doubt to him. Realizing his impending presence was not helping your panic ease he had walked back outside to watch the robber with a stare like bullets.
Upon the first light of police lights turning down the street, Jason had dipped into a back alley and onto one of the nearby roofs to throw his utility belt and attire off. Thank god he had left some clothes up here last time. Ripping the helmet off, he tossed it to the ground, not thinking twice about the violent ‘clack’ that followed. Picking up the other clothes, Jason ignored the tremor that laced his hands as he attempted (and missed) the sleeve of his jacket. The image of a dirty gun pointed at your chest played behind his eyes with each struggling attempt to zip his jacket up. Jason had to continue to remind himself that the GPD had arrived, and you were not alone again with the man who threatened your life for paper in a machine. You were okay. Shaken? Definitely, but overall you were okay. Jason had finished changing quickly. Once he returned to the street, the run that he broke into rivaled one of when he fought on patrol.
You had been talking to the police. Leftover shakes radiated your body as you recounted the events, however it wasn’t the shaking that brought his attention to you, but what you held close to your chest.
His book.
The sight of it unraveled the tension in his chest and allowed his body to ease into a quick jog. The antique pages were nestled against your chest as you traced the embossed title on the front.
Upon seeing Jason rushing down the street, you had forgotten the interview and met him in a rush. Without so much as a ‘hello’, your body launched into his large form, allowing yourself to be completely engulfed within his strong embrace. A rushed breath allowed the fear from the whole evening drain from you, the tears you had kept within your waterline flowed freely down your face. Jason’s hand met the back of your head, holding your rushing breaths against his chest in hopes to try and get you to calm down a little. The wet patch growing on his shirt pulled at his heart. In his attempts, he let small assurances slip past his lips.
“You’re okay, it’s okay, you’re fine…” With each vibration of his deep voice, you found your shoulders loosening. “I’ve got you.”
At this point, the police had gotten all they could from your testimonial, and had no doubt about what occurred within the small diner. With assurance that the owners were contacted, and you could go home for the rest of the night (now with the sun peaking over the harbor). As you had begun your path home, you didn’t question how your hand ended up in his. Realizing this halfway through the walk, you had attempted to remedy what you did unconsciously but with no avail. Jason had tightened his grip around your own before you made it more than an inch.
He needed the contact as much as you did.
You dreaded the sight of your apartment building as you turned the corner. The walk had encompassed nothing but soft breathing, occasional check-ins, and comfort. Once the brick building came into view, you realized that would end once the door unlocked and you said your goodbyes. So, upon reaching the front door, you didn’t immediately reach for your keys. In fact, you waited multiple moments before Jason had spoken up.
“You alright?” Meeting his eyes, obvious concern met your own. However, with the question your body awoke with memory.
The gun, the loud firing, Red Hood.
“You alright?”
You hadn’t realized the slight shake in your body before looking to the man you have grown to adore.
“Do you want to stay over?” Unconsciously, you tightened your grip on the book that still laid nestled into your chest. You hadn’t thought to give it back yet as the weight had oddly grounded you.
“I just…” With the silent stretch, you nervously laughed, “I really don’t want to be alone.”
Jason’s own body relaxed with your question. He would hate to admit it, but the thought of leaving you alone within your apartment also made him antsy, even though he knew he would be returning promptly to survey the street on the roof. However, the idea of staying with you pulled away one of the strings of the knot that had tightened since earlier this evening.
“Yeah.” The breathlessness of his voice wasn’t intended, but the flush on your cheeks was well worth the rather helpless tone. “I’ll stay.”
This time, the reach for your keys was easy. Together, you stepped inside as the first rays of sunlight peered over the small apartment buildings on your block.
Today was the fifth time jason had seen you in the library he'd been frequenting for the last year or so. This was his chill space, and yes he considered it his since he came here more than anyone else ever did. Always after patrol, always late at night since no one would be here but Ms. Rose who was sweet on him and always let him check out an extra book since he managed to get some kids in the neighborhood into reading.
He'd first seen you a month ago, speaking to Ms. Rose soft enough so he couldn't hear your conversation with her, the older woman seemed happy to see you, her eyes crinkling in the corners with a smile as her gnarled hands fluttered around you, fussing like a mother hen. The rest of his encounters with you had also been from afar, he'd seen you stacking books and helping customers check out their hardcovers with a wide grin. He figured you started working here recently, and he you've always managed to catch his attention since his first time seeing you.
"They're my grandchild." Ms. Rose slid past him with her cart of returned books as Jason stood in the classics section, eyes on you as you sat at one of the tables lit by a small lamp, immersed in a book that you annotated vigorously, brows furrowed.
Jason blinked away from you, ears hot as he shifted out of your grandmother's way, hands clammy against the copy of Hamlet he planned to check out tonight. His mind finally caught up with his surrounding, processing her words as he glanced swiftly at you once again. "Grandchild?"
Ms. Rose chuckled, smiling softly. "Oh, yes. They've come to Gotham to visit me for the winter. They'll be here for a couple months."
Her gaze snagged on the pink tint to his ears and she patted his shoulder as she leaned foward to shelve a thick volume, a soft breath of fond amusement leaving her nose. "No need for the timidness, Jason. They're very nice; you can talk to them if you wish. They won't mind."
Jason stiffened at the thought. For some reason, he felt shy even looking at you, imagine the babling mess he'd be trying to talk to you, fumbling over his thoughts and his words coming out in jagged fragments of sentences instead of a smooth stream of letters. He shook his head, lips parting to tell your grandmother theres no need but she starts speaking again.
"They asked about you the other day. They saw you reading some Jane Austen and said they never seen a boy be so immersed in a one of her novels in the way you were."
She glanced back at him, amusement glinting in her eyes before she went back to shelving her books, her cart squeaking as she shuffled down the isle. "I told them your name and that you come here often, that you're a quiet and sweet boy who enjoys reading as much as them does."
Jason blinked at her back slowly. So you know who he is and that your grandmother likes him. He's curious to know what you think of him. Did you think he was a poser for reading Austen? Or maybe an awkward kid? He was but no one thought it from his looks, he was broad and tall, yes, with a bit of a shrimp posure, but his presence alone had conversations quieting when he entered a room.
His insecurities started seeping in. Were you close enough to see the scars on his face? The white streak of hair? Maybe you thought he dyed it to seem "cool." Did you see the limp he had the other day or the black eye he was nursing that still wasn't fully healed and was now a pale green against his skin. He grimaced, his neck suddenly hot. "Ms. Rose," he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I appreciate it but-"
"Go talk to them, Jason." She cut him off gently, her hand motioning towards where you sat with your book, humming softly now to a song in your headphones. "I know you want to, child. Go ahead. They like Jane Austen too. That should give you something to talk about."
Jason's cheeks were a soft pink now, his brows furrowing as he grunted. How did this Seventy year old woman who just happened to be sweet on him because he frequented her library so much manage to see through him? He realized then that he needed a better poker face.
He didnt notice that he was standing there just staring at you before she nudged him again, gently urging him to talk to you again. He glanced at her, nervousness visible in his eyes, before he slowly made his way to your table. He was visibly tense, his fingers gripping his copy of Hamlet tighter so the plastic protective cover on the book creaked a bit.
He didn't even know what to say to you. You apparently liked Jane Austen and reading, like he did, but what can he do with that? Hey, I heard you like Jane Austen from your grandma who told me to talk to you so im going to intrude on your reading time to try and make awkward conversation with you-yes, awkward cause I dont know how to talk to people without being awkward.
He groaned internally, muscles tensing as he prepared to pivot and dash away before your head lifted and turned toward him, your eyes meeting, and he froze. Oh, fuck.
You stared at him for a moment, frowning slightly before you arched a brow, probably thinking him weird for standing basically next to your table and just staring at you like a damn idiot. He swallowed, audibly gulping like he was in a cartoon, and attempted a smile which came out as more of a grimace of pain. Great, you're scaring them, Todd. Fucking fantastic.
As he was wishing the floor would open up and gobble him whole, you slid your headphones off your head, a small smile on your lips as you looked up at him. "You're Jason, right?"
He blanked for a second. They know my name? Yes, they know your name, idiot, keep up. He nodded instinctively, thank goodness, and you stood, approaching him with a warm smile that made his mind stutter again as he tried to compute how your entire face lit up from a grin. At him, no less.
You gave him your name and he was distracted thinking about how nice it was while you held your hand out for a handshake. He jerked his hand foward after a second, gripping your hand in his clammy one and, shit-my palms are sweaty, shaking quickly.
You noticed how nervous he was and couldn't help smiling in amusement. You thought it was kinda cute that he was shy. You didn't think he was bad looking either.
Jason cleared his throat, pulling his hand away before the sweat could start pouring off him like a fountain. "Y-yeah, im Jason. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too, Jason." You glanced at the book in his hand, seeing the title and smiling wider. "First, Pride and Prejudice and now Hamlet. You seem to like classics."
He couldnt help but chuckle nervously, holding the book up in front of him instinctively as he nodded. "Yeah... your grandma told me you like them too. Said your a big Austen fan like me." Wow, you were gorgeous when you smiled. The upward pull of your lips eased the nervousness in his chest, the letters in his mouth that previously stuck like melted glue now clinging together to form coherent words. "Said you're a big reader too."
You chuckled softly and he felt his chest tightening with something unfamiliar, something soft. "Yeah, ive been reading all my life. Jane Austen has been one of my favorite author's since i was like fifteen." You seemed a bit shy then, looking down for a moment before looking back at him. "I've seen you reading in here. You come in most nights and just pick a book to sit and read, and if you dont finish it in that sitting, you check it out."
God, you had a nice voice too. Smooth and enunciated perfectly despite the faster speed compared to the average speaker. He nods in response to your words. "Yeah, thats me. I've seen you working here for the past month or so. Your grandma said youre staying for the winter?" You nodded and he continued. "Better bundle up then. Winters in Gotham aren't known for being pleasant."
Again, you smiled, and his brain slowed just to stare and process that one action of yours. "Yeah, i know. I love winter though, and it isnt much warmer in Metropolis." A metropolitan coming to gotham for the winter, one who liked to read and liked Jane Austen as much as him. He was intrigued, not just by those facts but also from your appearance. He couldn't deny you were beautiful, gorgeous even, but he needed to keep a level head on him.
"You're from Metropolis?" He arched a brow slightly, lips quirking into a small smirk of his own. "How's Superman doing? Saving lives as always?"
A soft snort left you. "Yeah, I guess. I never cared much for supers though. Im glad they're here to protect us, but why idolize them? I find it silly." Again, he was intrigued. He hadnt meant many people who didnt care for supers or vigilantes. Seeing as he was Red Hood, he curiosity was definitely piqued. How would react if you knew he was also out here saving people from danger like those supers you talk about?
He hummed and you could tell he was amused. "Yeah, I guess. But I you gotta admit, flying humanoid aliens with super strength that can shoot lasers from their eyes seems kinda cool, right? I mean, that stuff you'd read in a comic or a sci-fi series, and here they exist in real life."
You laughed softly, a soft blush touching your cheeks. So far, Jason seemed cool, even interesting. He was cute, you had common interests, and he was kinda funny. Your grandma was right for once. He seemed very sweet. When you first saw him, you were intrigued. A man with a few scars on his face, broad and brooding, reading Jane Austen in a library wasn't a common sight.
You both talked for a while, exchanging small jokes about supers, before you gestured to your table. "Wanna sit?" You saw the tips of his ears turn pink before he nodded. As you both sat in your seats, you in your original seat and Jason across from you, you couldnt help but wonder where this would go. This boy, Jason Todd, seemed to be as nervous as you were just talking to each other, and that warmed your heart. He was cute. And sweet. Your grandma had described him as a sweet and quiet boy, and she was right. Very right.
A/N: First fic on tumblr! Constructive criticism is welcome always! I saw another writer use this same idea for a library meet-cute and I thought i would give it a try after randomly getting the itch to write at midnight. Might be a part 2, still unsure. Wasn't proofread since I was tired, so inform me of any spelling errors. I listened to frankie's first affair by sade while writing and I guess that got me in the mood.
Robins React To: “text your crush like you’re already together prank”
Pt 1// Dick & Tim
Tags: gaslighting, you’re kinda toxic in all of these sorry it’s the name of the game, reader wearing a dress and tights is mentioned in Dick’s
[FOR JASON & STEPHANIE CLICK HERE]
Dick Grayson
Catches on but is completely happy to go along with the charade. If you weren’t serious, too bad, you’re stuck with him now
Tim Drake
Goes along with it because he assumes he asked you out during an episode and just forgot about it (he stared at that ‘i love you’ for 10 minutes before replying. and then clumsily adding the emoji too bc you included one and he can’t let you think he doesn’t love you as much)
dick grayson x fem!reader + [platonic kory and wally]
friends to lovers || idiots to lovers || hopeless romantics
synopsis : you have had a crush on dick grayson since forever. good thing, he's as hopelessly down bad for you. it's a match made in idiocy. shawdyer reference :3 found family trope. sfw.
cw: reader is mentioned to be straight i'm so sorry but she's only in her early twenties so who knows. roofie, date rape and cannibalism mentioned. suicidal hyperboles mentioned. there's a dog. anthophia. reader has hair. this is really fucking cute otherwise, believe me.
you were so fucking giddy, you could die.
after almost six years of dancing around the butterflies and hearteyes between you and dick, he had finally asked you out. or rather you went out on a terrible date earlier this week to cope with your reckless, impulsive, lovesick heart. got pissed at the mediocre man you had had to spend the evening with and returned to the titans tower only to find dick having a mental breakdown of his own. he had even finished all the ice cream tubs in the freezer and gotten himself sick.
wally personally wasn't sure if it was concerning or relieving as the drinks shelf went untouched. he'd hidden the key in advance, but dick never reached for alcohol to cope to even begin with. he had grabbed for all the ice cream tubs and watched 90s rom coms with pure rage and melancholy.
kory had gotten so so worried about the two of you. she didn't like how restless and pained dick constantly was around you now. that desperate yearnful look in his blue eyes that always ended up turning sad. and how you went out with other people all the time only to return home to her and to cry about it all feeling so so wrong because none of it compared to the giggles dick made you feel from the inside.
he made you a fucking poet for x’hal’s sake. kory had been rather stunned when you had once drunkenly ranted about dick being a non-human. your theory was that he actually lived inside your bloodstream somehow and made you feel oh-so flutterly from the inside, that man definitely existed in multi forms. and why was he so perfect with his reassuring words and his gorgeous face and those ridiculous biceps and the stupidly lickable hands—if dick grayson didn't existed you were pretty sure you'd no longer be attracted to men to even begin with. he had to be some sort of entity with amazing titties. the people that gawked after nightwing’s ass were not familiar with the panty-dropping sight his pecs were. living in the US was becoming very unsafe for you—you wanted him so bad—it made you want to shoot everyone and then yourself.
thankfully none of that happened. kory had grabbed dick right off the couch, from his self pity corner, by the collar of his t-shirt and flew him in front of you before dropping him to his feet. he would have fallen to his butt if not for his acrobatic skills. spoken too soon—he did fall—to his knees when he saw you. you were a goddess and he wanted to remain on his knees forever for you.
you'd laughed, an exhausted thing after the shit date you'd had, “proposing to eat me out, birdie?” you'd smiled down at him, gasping dramatically, flushed cheeks matching his as you had offered him your hand. the crude jokes were nothing new from you. or the nickname.
back when you two first met, you refused to call him robin. you found it ridiculous. you guys were supposed to be friends, why couldn't he just trust you and tell you his name like you told him yours. you had made a joke about birdie and robin not making any difference at all and stuck with that name. annoyed by your theatrics in the beginning, now dick loved the years of familiarity behind it.
he had scoffed—grinning—and grabbed your hand. his heart skyrocketed and exploded inside his chest at the contact as he hauled himself off the ground gracefully, “you're terrible.”
“ah,” you had pretended to be hurt, “so you're saying you won't make out with my cunt? how heartbreaking. i thought we had something special, dick.”
dick had shaken his head amusedly, both of you having forgotten of kory’s majestic presence as she floated closeby with thoughtful eyes. seeing you two together made her heart feel both full and really really sad. she just wanted for you two to be finally together and stop suffering separately. if only everyone wore their hearts on their sleeves the world could be so much less complicated.
“how was your amazing date?” dick had asked, eyes suddenly sharp, his smile tighter.
“i think the hopeless romantic in me violently commits suicide everytime i go on these.” you had groaned, and then complained, “he had a stain on his shirt, birdie.” you spun around 360 to show off how stunningly you'd dressed, “at this point i’m convinced no man deserves all this swag.” you let out a frustrated breath, “defeated by my heterosexuality. i'd be unstoppable as a lesbian. it's whatever, gar stocked the fridge earlier with ice cream, didn't he?” you sighed and dick’s face fell with guilt, “i shall mend my disappointed heart and repel all the testosteronic energy with ice cream and rom coms.”
“about that—”
“oh, no, what did your edward cullen arse father do this time—” catching on that he already took shelter in your shared coping mechanism. and really, batman was definitely an emo edgy kid who didn't want to be like— the other fang-baring motherfuckers—hence the batman title instead of count dracula.
“x’hal. you both talk so much about nothing at all, i’m going to faint.” kory had finally spoken, reaching her final straw, and that's when it all happened. she lectured you both on your— pathetic, all consuming, can't eat, can't sleep, would reach for the other half way down hell—behavior. and the two of you, realizing that you might not be alone in your adoration felt a little brave.
dick had asked you out almost abruptly. and you had kicked the side of his thigh lightly, pouting and upset because you wanted to ask him first. he kicked back lightly to your thigh and promised that the past minute never happened and let himself be asked out like a clueless pretty boy.
that was 3 days ago.
now you climbed up your bathroom counter, almost disappearing into the mirror, doing your eyeliner. you drew the butterfly wing upon your eyelid, careful of your latest scar that ran up your cheekbone. it didn't hurt anymore. it just left a temporary mark.
“he's taking you to the beach for dinner?” kory’s eyes widened and she smiled big, “that is wonderful.”
you laughed, nodding your head up and down as you capped up your eyeliner tube. still leaning in close to the mirror to make sure the lines were symmetrical, “it's a maybe, if we're both not too tired and overstimulated by the end of the day. we have planned a bunch of stuff for today. that's why we're leaving so early. i wanted to visit this new little cafe, right?” you rambled, “but dick already bought these movie tickets for after lunch. and i was like i get to sit beside you and gawk at ryan gosling? at the same damn time?!?” you shook your head, and turned around to face your friend, “oh, the greed. the greed.” you sang dramatically, “so we decided on both. we're going to grab breakfast at the café. and then we're visiting the museum. honestly, i don't really care. i just want to walk around with dick. he told me he wants that, too.”
you paused and when you realized kory wasn't annoyed by you talking so much, none of your friends ever were, to be honest, you carried on, “we're visiting an italian place for lunch and after the movie—-” you stopped to take a breath, “this ridiculous man is taking me to the arcade. is it too early to get married?” and then you let out a scream, running over to hug kory with your unfiltered excitement.
kory let out a startled noise and hugged you back, “i’ve never seen you so happy for a date.”
“well, most times i’ve got other things to think about.” you started rambling again, “my worst fear is going on a date with a really charming man and letting my guard down only to get roofied, raped and murdered. and on the bonus horror side, i also never get justice in this scenario, because the cops working on my case get mcdonald's for their lunchbreak and i’m the filling inside the burgers.”
kory pulled away, looking horrified but not surprised, “you know how dick tracks all of us all the time?”
“yes.” you frowned.
“well, he also tracks your heartbeat.” she looked around and then met your surprised gaze, “haven't you noticed? he has always been up until you make it back safely to your bed from the dates.”
a dopey grin took over your face, “i’m going to get him pregnant. oh my gosh.”
she chuckled, “you're so cute.” kory gushed, reaching for your hair, and you grinned bigger, “allow me to do your hair?”
“i love you.” you immediately agreed.
dick grayson was freaking out so fucking much he could piss his pants and crawl six feet under.
the only things that kept him from getting spontaneously exploded currently was your golden retriever, tweety, and the excited squeals and crashouts he could hear drifting through your bedroom wall. it reminded him that he had nothing to feel insecure about, he was going out with his favorite person in the entire world. you were his safe place, his happy place. he hoped he could live up to be the same in return, otherwise, he might as well lock himself up inside a random bunker for an eternity. because really, the sun meant nothing compared to you.
“i can't believe she named her tweety,” wally said, bringing dick to the present, “isn't that yellow bird a boy?”
dick kissed your golden retriever’s forehead and stood to his full height again. the sunshine furbaby immediately pawed up at him. he scratched behind her ear and frowned at wally, “wait—she's a he?”
“he was always a he, bro.” his best friend responded, plucking stray dog hair off the navy jumper dick wore. he had to watch dick drive himself up a wall worrying about dressing perfect this morning. he had changed several times, and fixed his hair up for half an hour straight. then he had stared at himself in the mirror for a couple minutes too long, got the ick and started from scratch again. now he wore a dark navy sweater layered lean on his frame with comfortable blue jeans, “when i was hospitalized last month, i made, like, the most random google searches ever. because i was bored, y’know. disney princesses had it fucking rough. it's literal trauma porn.”
“excuse me–” dick’s eyes widened, “yeah, maybe don't mention all that to kory. it'd break her heart.”
“what are you two talking about?” speak of the angel. kory stood right outside your bedroom door, looking at the pair of best friends curiously. your golden retriever bolted towards her immediately.
just as wally opened his mouth to respond and spew out some lies, you stepped out and dick’s eyeballs turned into literal hearts. you were so fucking beautiful he wanted to harvest his heart out and gift that to you in a jar.
“oh god—” dick breathed.
“is this from your be an alpha book?” wally playfully taunted. okay, so maybe dick had bought a book on how to ask out the girl of your (wet) dreams several months ago. and the content inside had been so repulsive, he had to throw the thing in the bin. and maybe wally found it and teased him for it relentlessly now.
he rolled his eyes at the redhead, his attention drawing back to you. your gaze raked down his figure slowly, appreciatively, and your cheeks flushed. a dopey grin on your face that he wanted to kiss so so badly. you had butterfly wings on your eyelids. he shook his head, smiling when he saw the teeny-tiny braids in your otherwise down hair. you'd once mentioned that those brought positive energy. goodness. you mesmerized him. he'd seen the sun, you were a thousand times more blinding.
“do tell what's going on in that brilliant mind of yours.” you grinned up at him smugly.
dick felt the tips of his ears burning, why was his mind screaming please, please please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease and for what. he cleared his throat, “I—”
“the woman was too stunned to speak, grayson’s version.” wally snorted, “don't get offended, babe. he's just experiencing love at first sight.”
“oh my god.” dick’s throat closed up, horrified by the words wally said. yes, he was experiencing exactly that but that was besides the point, “will you just let me speak?! jesus, dude-”
“oh, sure.” wally nodded, holding his hands up in surrender, “i still prefer to go by wally west by the way. the name jesus doesn't really vibe with me much. unless you were referring to me as some sorta sex god–”
“x’hal.” kory laughed, “what demon possessed you today?”
“you mean my undiagnosed mental health issues?” wally shot back.
dick dragged his eyes back to meet your waiting ones, “you look beautiful.” he murmured, taking a step closer, “i mean—you always do but–” he trailed off, “give me a moment to process okay?”
“okay.” you nodded once, blushing prettily, “do you want me to do the spin?”
“will you, please?” dick held his breath, starry-eyed.
you nodded, and took a step back to happily twirl.
“fuck, i don't deserve you.” he said, when you stopped to face him again.
“don't decide for me, richard.” you scolded the man, and crossed your arms across your chest, “your turn. won't you spin for me, birdie?” you asked in a mock-sickly-sweet tone.
he huffed, accepting defeat, and completed his 360. he was rather surprised to find your jaw slightly hung open, it pleased him greatly, he wanted to punch himself in the face for being so embarrassingly easy.
“so so gorgeous.” you mumbled, as though annoyed at him but there was that stupidly soft look all over your face reserved only for him, “and dick,” you said.
“yes?”
“feel free to fall in love.” you teased with a lopsided smile.
dick’s knees buckled, wally grabbed the back of his jumper using superspeed and kept him from falling. well, too late, he'd already fallen, hadn't he? no one suspected a thing, thanks to wally west’s superspeed.
you were so fucking adorable. dick needed to scream into a pillow asap.
“oh no–” wally shuddered.
“what now, dude–” dick irritably asked.
“you didn't get her flowers, bro. ” wally let out an exaggerated disappointment breath, “she literally inhales rom coms, dick-”
dick exhaled a relieved breath, “she has anthophia,” he explained.
“getting chased by ivy’s cannibal flower monsters was not very romantic.” you added, and gave dick an appreciative look for remembering. he shook his head, it wasn't a big deal. he remembered everything about you, it was his default.
“we should leave.” dick said, nodding his head towards the exit, “i wanna spend as much romantic time with you as possible.”
“you wouldn't believe!” you gasped, pretending to be surprised, “i wanna spend as much romantic time with you as possible too, birdie.”
he laughed, eyes crinkling and you impulsively grabbed his hand. dick paused and then intertwined your fingers together, squeezing once. you squeezed back.
kory and wally stepped back, letting the two of you have your moment.
you released dick’s hand and went to the shoe rack. your pair was already laying about outside. you were very untidy about where you left your things. you stuffed your feet into the heeled boots and dick was quick to reach your side, down on one knee to do the laces.
"there," once he was done, he stood back up and tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, "now you won't fall.”
$ log - you tell the avengers you've accepted a summer internship. somewhere else, not with them. steve rogers begins a formal inquiry into his own leadership!
$ warn --sfw --younger!recruit!reader --dramatic!avengers --protective!avengers!
$ wc -w 2k
$ cd masterlist
You pick dinner because it's neutral ground. In retrospect, a catastrophic error in judgement.
"I got a placement," you say. "For the summer. It's with a strong firm in the city, three months, it's good for my degree and—"
"Wonderful," Bruce says. "Which firm?"
You blink. "Meridian."
He nods, reaches for the salad bowl. "Good reputation. Strong mentorship programme, if I remember right. You'll want to get ahead of the modules before you start, their work skews heavily toward infrastructure." He pauses. "Do you want me to send you some reading?"
"Yes, actually, that would be great!"
"I can put a list together tonight," Natasha says, from across the table. She says it the way she says most things, which is without looking up, like it's already decided. "The team lead on their east coast division trained under Kovač. Technically excellent. A little rigid, but you'll manage."
"You know their team lead?"
"I know most people."
"Thank you. Both of you. That's —"
"That's three months," Tony says.
The table turns, as Tony has put his phone down. That should’ve been the first sign of disaster.
"Three months with a — what did you say, firm—"
"Meridian, yes —"
"Never heard of them."
"You've heard of them," Bruce says mildly. "They did the DOD infrastructure audit in 2019."
"I choose not to have heard of them," Tony says. "Here's what I'm offering: full lab access, your own project, no supervision unless you want it, and—" he pauses for what you can tell is a dramatic effect, "—four hundred a week."
You stare at him. "Tony —"
"Five hundred."
"I haven't said anything —"
"The face you made said something. Six fifty, and I'll throw in the good coffee. Not the compound coffee. My coffee."
"Steven," Thor says.
Steve doesn't respond. He's been quiet since the word placement left your mouth. The quality of his quiet has been getting heavier and it’s started to affect the atmospheric pressure of the room.
"Steven," Thor says again, gentler.
"I heard her," Steve says. He has both hands flat on the table. He's looking at his plate. He has not touched his plate.
"It is only three months," Thor offers. He means it kindly, but it lands like a eulogy. "A short time. A blink. I have waited longer for ships." A pause. "Though the ships came back." He frowns. "Most of them."
Steve closes his eyes.
"Thor," Sam says.
"I am helping," Thor says.
"I think," Sam says, turning to you with the careful tone of a man building a bridge over active water, "that this is a genuinely good opportunity and you should absolutely pursue it."
You exhale. "Thank you —"
"I also think," he continues, "and I'm just raising this, I'm not making it a thing, I'm just raising it —" he pauses. "Did you look at other options?"
"Sam —"
"Before you applied, were there other options on the table?"
"It's a competitive placement, there wasn't exactly a —"
"Were we an option?" he says. "On the table, that you looked at and considered and then decided against."
"You can't be an option, you're not a —"
"We have infrastructure," he says, gesturing broadly at the compound around them. "We have resources, we have personnel —"
"Eight fifty," Tony says.
"— we have a training programme," Sam continues, "that Natasha and Steve spent —"
"Forty hours," Natasha says.
"Forty hours building, and I just want to know, academically, whether that came up at any point during your decision-making process."
"It's not that kind of decision —"
"Were we on the list?" he says, very evenly.
The table awaits the grand conclusion.
"...there wasn't a list."
Sam leans back in his chair, and just looks at his plate. "Okay," he says.
Steve makes a sound, that wasn’t exactly a word.
More like the sound a man makes when he's been doing quiet maths and has arrived at an answer he doesn't like. Everyone at the table hears it. Nobody addresses it directly; nobody wants to be the one to open that particular door.
You look at him.
He has moved from hands-flat-on-table to one hand over his mouth, elbow on the table. He was staring at the middle distance with the expression of a man conducting a full internal audit of every decision he's made in the last eight months.
"Steve," you say carefully. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he says, into his hand.
"You don't look —"
"I'm just thinking."
"About what?"
A pause.
"About whether I've been a good captain," he says, simply, and the simplicity of it is somehow worse than if he'd said it dramatically. There's no angle on it, and no play for sympathy.
Just Steve Rogers, sitting at a dinner table, genuinely asking himself the question.
The room goes very quiet, even Tony stops typing.
"Steve," you start, "that's not —"
"No, I —" He takes his hand away from his mouth, and straightens up. There's something resolved in his face that you distrust immediately. He seems to have made a decision without enough information and intends to see it through. "I want to know what I did wrong. That's fair, isn't it. You deserve to be heard."
"You didn't do anything—"
"Because I've been thinking about the Patterson debrief," he says.
"The Patterson — that was six months ago —"
"I was hard on you."
"You were accurate —"
"I could've been more —" he pauses, picking the word carefully, "— constructive."
"Steve, I learned from that debrief, it was fine —"
"And the rotation scheduling in March," he continues, with the momentum of a man who has opened a file he's been keeping closed, "I had you on doubles for two weeks running. That wasn't — that was too much, and I should've —"
"Steve."
"— and the equipment issue. You flagged it twice and I didn't move it up the chain fast enough, that was on me, I should've —"
"Steve."
He stops.
"I like working with you," you say. "That's not what this is."
He looks at you for a long moment. Something in his expression does something complicated. Then, very quietly, he puts his face in his hands.
Not dramatically, Steve doesn’t do dramatics, he’s a man of dignity. Just — his elbows go to the table and his palms go to his forehead and he sits there. So does the table, with nobody saying anything for a full four seconds.
"It's a three month internship," Bruce says gently, into the silence.
"I know what it is," Steve says, muffled.
He clearly does not fully know what it is.
"I'll do a thousand," Tony says. "Week. Flat."
"Tony —"
"No strings, no deliverables. You can consult on whatever Meridian's got you on, I don't care, I just —" he pauses. For just a second, something more emotional underneath the bidding war flickers. But, he covers it immediately. "I have better coffee."
"You keep saying the coffee."
"The coffee is exceptional."
"Eleven hundred," he says, before you can finish. "And I'll get you a better chair. You've been complaining about the chair in the east lab for —"
"I haven't said yes to any of this."
"Twelve hundred and the chair and I'll put your name on the lab door —"
"Tony —"
"A plaque," he says. "Engraved. Nice font."
Bucky hasn't spoken.
He's been sitting at the far end of the table since you made the announcement. He has a look on his face that you've learned to read as the specific register of Bucky feeling something he has no modern vocabulary for. So he’s simply sitting inside it like a very unhappy building.
"Buck," you try.
He looks at you.
"Say something."
A long pause.
"I taught you the Bucharest cover protocol," he says.
"I — yes —"
"It took me three weeks," he says. "Three weeks. We run it every Tuesday."
"I know, I was there —"
"You're the only other person who knows the Bucharest cover protocol."
You stare at him. "Bucky, that's —"
"Fine," he says. He picks up his glass, and takes a drink. He sets it down with a precise, final click that communicates everything he has decided not to say.
You look at Sam, who mouths: give him a minute.
"Here's my thinking," Clint says.
Everyone turns. He’s been sitting on a theory and has decided the time has come.
"You want normal," he says. "That's what this is. You want regular. Office job and commute. Colleagues who don't know how to dismantle a perimeter. Normal-person stuff."
"Clint —"
"I have that," he says, leaning forward. "I have a farm. I have kids. I coach little league on a completely voluntary basis, I do not have to do that, I choose to do that because I am a normal person with normal hobbies who happens to also —" he gestures vaguely at himself, at the compound, at the general situation.
"The point is, if you want normal, I am right here. You could come to the farm. Help Laura with the garden. It's very —" he searches for the word. "Regulatory."
You open your mouth.
"I have chickens," he adds, as a closing argument.
"Clint, I don't want to work on your farm —"
"I'm not offering you a job, I'm offering you a vibe," he says. "The chickens are incidental."
Thor has been quiet since the ship comment. But quiet for the Asgardian has a texture to it, a specific density, and you've noticed it building for the last ten minutes.
"I do not pretend to understand the customs of this era," he says, finally, with great dignity. "But in Asgard, when a warrior of your standing sought training elsewhere, it was —" he pauses. "It was considered."
"Considered what?" Sam asks.
Thor looks at you. "A message," he says simply. "To the one who trained them."
Steve makes a sound (a wail? sob?) from behind his hands.
"Thor," Natasha says.
"I speak only of custom —"
"Different custom," Bruce says. "Very different. Completely inapplicable."
"I am simply providing context —"
"The context is making it worse."
"I don't see how —"
"Steve's had his face in his hands for four minutes."
Thor looks at Steve, then looks at you. Something crosses his face — the big, open guilt of someone who has genuinely tried to help and has made things measurably worse.
"I'm sure your captain has been excellent," he tells you, earnestly, which lands on Steve like a small additional weight.
"I know he has," you say. "That's what I keep —"
"Thirteen hundred," Tony says.
"I didn't fail you," Steve says, from behind his hands. He says it like he's trying to convince himself. "I just — I want to make sure I didn't fail you."
"You didn't."
"The Patterson debrief —"
"Was six months ago and I learned from it."
"March rotations —"
"Were fine."
"The equipment —"
"Steve." You wait until he lowers his hands. He looks exhausted in the specific way of someone who has been their own harshest critic for so long it's become reflex.
"Listen to me. You're a good captain. You've been — you're a good captain. I'm going because I want to learn something new, not because I want to get away from you. Do you understand that?"
He holds your gaze for a moment.
"Three months," he says.
"Three months."
A long breath, then he picks his fork back up. Steve starts eating with the air of a man who has not resolved anything but has decided to table it. For him, it’s roughly equivalent to waving a white flag.
You find a sticky note on your kit bag the next morning.
Make sure they know what they have. — N
Underneath, in different handwriting - blunt, slightly too much pressure on the pen, like someone who learned to write when paper was expensive:
Tuesday cover protocol debrief before you go. You're not leaving until you can run it in your sleep. — B
And at the bottom, in the handwriting you'd know anywhere, neat and deliberate and with slightly too much space between the letters because he still isn't used to ballpoints:
Locker's yours when you're back. Don't let them work you too hard. — Steve
You stand in the corridor for a moment. Three months, you think, It’ll be absolutely fine.
(You're going to miss them so much it's embarrassing.)
$ tag @twentytomidnight @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger
every single time you bend down in front of him he smacks your ass like it’s a reflex. like a doctor hitting your knee with that little hammer. he genuinely doesn’t even realize he’s doing it anymore.
when you take off your shirt he hollers, “BOOBIES!” loud enough for half of the cleaner hq to hear. rudo once dropped a wrench because of it.
he got a pic of you in his pocket where you sleep with your mouth wide open, double chin included. he proudly shows it EVERYONE.
calls you baby in increasingly stupid variations. sugarbaby. babycakes. babygirl. babybel cheese. babesaurus rex.
absolutely the type to fake dramatic injuries for attention. “aughhh… my heart…” — “what happened?” — “you looked too pretty.”
if you ignore him for more than ten minutes he starts escalating. first it’s whining. then poking. then laying on top of you like a weighted blanket. “hello? hello? customer service? my girlfriend stopped loving me.”
he cannot flirt normally. ever. he points at you and goes, “that one’s mine btw,” like he found a cool rock.
one time he tried to kiss you smoothly and accidentally headbutted you hard enough to make both of you see stars.
obsessed with making you laugh. if you laugh so hard you snort, he acts like he just won the lottery.
if you’re cooking he WILL appear behind you and steal food straight from the pan while acting offended when you hit his hand away. “wow. abuse. in my own home.”
absolutely the kind of boyfriend who starts fake beef with inanimate objects for hurting you.“this table got one more time to hit my girl before i square up.”
loves putting his cold hands on your skin just to hear you shriek.
kisses you mid-sentence. not romantically either. fully to shut you up because he thinks it’s funny.
every time you wear something slightly revealing he malfunctions, in a “walking into walls because he’s staring” way.
would 100% yell “THAT’S MY WIFE!” over the smallest accomplishments. you parallel parked successfully? THAT’S MY WIFE!!!!
he treats your bra like a deadly ancient artifact whenever you ask him to unclasp it. “okay wait. hold on. i almost got it. why’s this built like a fucking escape room?”
once tried to carry you bridal style to be romantic. immediately dropped you both onto the couch because he tripped over absolutely nothing. another time he knocked you out on the doorframe.
if you’re shorter than him he rests his chin on your head constantly. if you’re taller than him he still tries. the posture is horrendous.
shamelessly fishes for compliments. “babe do i look sexy today?” — “you’re wearing one sock and my shirt?” — “answer the question.”
he sees you naked and suddenly turns into the loudest man alive. “WOOOOOOO!!!!” then rips his shirt off like in the werewolf meme.
genuinely thinks couple arguments can be solved with snacks and cuddles. “okay but what if we held hands and got noodles instead?”
When you woke up this morning, your body had been sore. Like you had been through the meat grinder kind of sore but in a good way.
You had looked over at Dick sleeping soundlessly. Half his body on top of you and half on the bed with his messy raven hair falling over his eyes, his long lashes almost brushing his sharp cheekbones.
Yeah, a very good way.
But when you got out of bed and basically limped around the apartment, he gave you the smuggest look ever. Seriously no one had ever looked as proud of themselves as he had.
You wanted to slap him. Or kiss him. You were still deciding.
That didn’t stop you for asking him for help though, since he had been the one to carry you around the apartment and draw you a warm bath. The shoulder massage he gave you in the bathtub wasn’t too bad either. Plus the pancakes he had prepared with a little smiley face on top with chocolate syrup.
But that didn’t take away from the fact that he was an unserious man.
He had known you were supposed to have lunch with your friends today so he had been an exceptional tease last night in bed. Not just a tease, he was also apparently under the impression that you were made of rubber and could bend you however he pleased.
Just because he worked out eight hours a day didn’t mean you did too. You’d be lucky to even squeeze in a workout once a week and he knew that and yet he chose to manhandle you.
Not that you were against it. He was very skilled in the bedroom and the nights where you had to just lay there for him to do all the work were your favourites.
But damn now you were limping on your way to meet your friends. You and Dick walked out of the car, hand in hand towards where your friends were sitting outside the cafe.
And he had the audacity to snicker.
“It isn’t funny!” You huffed out, hands clutching his arm to hold for balance since your legs were way too sore to even walk.
“You weren’t complaining last night,” he replied and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose, looking way too amused.
“Shut up,” you scoffed instead of replying since thats all you could do. He wasn’t wrong.
Once you reached the table, Donna, Wally and Roy immediately greeted you with hugs.
“You okay?” Donna was the first one to speak, noticing your limp.
“Yeah,” you swallowed and sat down on the chair next to Dick’s, shifting a little. “Just walked into a chair.”
“Uh huh,” Roy narrowed his eyes at Dick’s smug face.
“And was the chair named Dick Grayson?” Wally added.
“Wally!” You gasped and looked at Dick for help but he just laughed and draped his arm over the back of your chair.
The rest of the lunch went by with way too many jokes about Dick’s dick and you’d think he’d be offended by it but he was the one initiating most of them.
Like you said, unserious.
✶ JASON TODD
Jason was out running when you woke up. It was your usual morning routine –he woke up before you, gave you a small kiss on your forehead and left for a run then returned an hour later with coffee and sometimes pastries.
This time however, you had told him you were making pancakes so he wasn’t surprised to find you standing in the kitchen wearing his shirt that he discarded last night.
He walked over to you, black tank top clinging to his body due to the sweat like a second skin and if you weren’t sore from last night you would have done something about it.
The minimal clothing you were wearing –Jason’s t-shirt and panties– didn’t do a lot to hide the marks he had left on you last night. Your thighs looked like a crime scene with how many hickeys he had left there.
You waddled over to the fridge to grab the eggs when Jason noticed you.
“What’s up?” He frowned and came up behind you.
“Hmm?” You asked and cracked an egg in the bowl.
“You’re waddling like a penguin,” he pointed out.
“Oh,” you blushed and immediately looked away from him. “You know,” you shrugged.
“Babe what?” He asked and turned you around to steal all your attention.
“Last night,” you said. “You’re not exactly small.”
“Well thanks,” he gave you a confused smile. “Is that why you’re limping?”
“That and my legs being folded like a lawn chair over your shoulders for over an hour yes,” you quipped.
Jason in response let out a cackle.
“Great, hope you’re proud of yourself,” you scrunched your nose and turned back to prepare the pancake batter.
“I mean it does wonders to a guy’s ego,” Jason let out a dramatic breath. “Seven orgasms in one night is my new record.”
“Jason!” You huffed and pushed him away. “You cannot count my orgasms you freak.”
He laughed again and came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle before nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.
“Seriously though, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked, pressing fluttering kisses to the hickeys he had left on your neck.
“No,” you hummed and craned your head back.
“You liked it?”
“Yes,” you breathed as his kisses made their way down to your shoulders.
His fingers busied themselves with massaging your hips, causing you to close your eyes in relief and rest your head back on his shoulders. Which gave him even more room to kiss on your neck.
“Let me make you feel better,” he murmured and turned you around before getting down on his knees.
“Jason,” you said through a shaky breath.
“Yeah?” He looked up at you through dark eyelashes and hooked your thigh over his shoulder. “Is this okay?”
You nodded your head which was all the permission he needed.
It was going to be a long morning.
✶ TIM DRAKE
In hindsight, waiting for your boyfriend to return from his week long mission at the manor probably wasn’t your brightest idea.
He had texted you that he would be back today and would just crash at the manor instead of coming back to your shared penthouse.
But you hadn’t seen him in a week! So it was only fair you drove to the manor and let yourself into the batcave to wait for him.
It had almost been an hour since you made yourself at home on the little beanbag chair with a book in your hands in the Batcave along with Barbara who was perched at the Batcomputer, doing whatever it is that Oracle did.
Tim returned soon along with the rest of the Bats on his Batcycle (Batman wasn’t a very creative person you were beginning to realise).
Damian made a ‘TT’ sound at you before making his way towards the shower area.
Tim on the other hand broke out in a grin the second he looked at you. He didn’t even bother taking off his mask or the suit before he was launching himself at you on the beanbag.
“Tim!” You grunted when his armoured chest collided with yours. “You’re crushing me.”
“Don’t care,” he muttered and pushed his head in the crook of your neck.
“Take a shower you stink!” You said and pushed him off.
“I see how it is,” he raised his head to look at you and if you could see his eyes behind his domino mask, you knew he would be narrowing his eyes at you. “I come back a week later after saving the world and my girlfriend says I stink.”
“You do,” Jason mumbled somewhere behind him.
“Ignore him he’s jealous,” Tim said to you before leaning down to give you a fleeting kiss. “I’ll be back,” he murmured and finally got off the beanbag to go take a shower.
That had been enough of your loving and sweet boyfriend for the night.
Because he was soon coming out of the shower without a shirt and in only a pair of sweatpants. He didn’t even bothering talking to anyone or even debriefing the case like he usually did, he just made his way towards you and picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.
Thankfully everyone else was busy cleaning themselves and only Barbara was present in the Batcave. She shook her head at you like she knew exactly what was happening but didn’t want to be a part of it.
It had been a very long night.
The night for which you were paying now.
Tim’s heavy arm was thrown over your stomach in a tight grip like he never wanted to let you go.
Squinting open an eye, you flicked the bedside lamp on –having no clue what time it was outside due to the blackout curtains being drawn.
You turned over in Tim’s iron grip and looked around the room which looked like it had gotten robbed last night.
Your shirt was thrown on the floor along with your shorts, your bra dangling down the knob of the door –no clue how it got there. And your panties were probably torn in half somewhere. Even the pillows were thrown haphazardly, the covers weren’t even covering you.
Half the reason you woke up was the chill in the room causing goosebumps to rise on your naked body. The only source of heat you had was Tim’s equally as naked body wrapped around you like a koala.
You rubbed your eyes and tried to look at him. The first thing you saw were the red scratches on his chest, glowing against his pale skin and you were sure if he turned around his back would look the same.
“Tim?” You whispered and brushed his hair away from his face.
He only groaned in response and tugged you closer but his grip on your back was beginning to hurt.
“Hey,” you tried again and pushed at his shoulder –which you now saw had a bite mark on it.
Images of Tim’s bicep wrapped around your neck came to your mind but you quickly shook them off. Not the time.
“Tim come on, you’re hurting me,” you winced, which finally caught his attention.
“What?” He asked, voice laced with sleep and somehow deeper like you’ve never heard before. “Where are you hurt?”
“It just feels sore.”
“Fuck I’m so sorry,” he sat up straight in bed and leaned down to pull the covers up.
“It’s okay, you didn’t do anything I didn’t like,” you giggled when he turned around and yep his back looked every bit like his chest. Red scratches all over.
“Your back,” you whispered and reached out to lightly brush your hand over the marks. “What the fuck did we do last night?”
“I think I just missed you too much,” he chuckled. “Turn around let me give you a massage.”
“Yes please,” you moaned and turned around on your stomach to let Tim rub the soreness out of your muscles with his nimble fingers.
The knots in your muscles immediately came loose with each movement of his warm hands on your much colder body. Maybe they taught massaging the pain away at vigilante school or wherever Bruce took all the kids of his he seems to adopt.
His hands went lower to gently rest your calf over his shoulder –much gentler than last night. He pressed soft kisses to your leg as his fingers rubbed all the way to your ankles.
Later when you two went down for breakfast (it was around lunchtime), Cass and Damian gave you a disgusted look. Jason raised an eyebrow at the bite marks on Tim’s forearm while Dick only laughed in amusement. Even Barbara was staring at the hickey on your jaw since apparently Tim had forgotten he was human.
✶ BRUCE WAYNE
You were sitting on the chair in the little breakfast nook when Bruce entered the kitchen. A crossword puzzle was sat on the table next to a plate of toast and orange juice in front of you as you mindlessly scribbled on the puzzle.
Bruce came up behind you and gave you a little kiss on the back of your head before walking over to the cabinets to pull out a mug.
“Oh wait! I made you a yogurt bowl,” you said and hopped off the chair.
Bruce raised an eyebrow and watched you limping towards the fridge in nothing but his old uni sweatshirt. Your hair was falling over your shoulders, messy from a good night’s sleep. And other activities.
His eyes wandered lower to the backs of your knees where he was gripping your legs last night and sure enough there were marks to show it. For a second he was worried but when you turned around and gave him your million dollar smile, he forgot what he was thinking about.
“It has raspberries, nuts, pumpkin seeds, chia seeds. It’s good for your health,” you beamed and set it down in front of your own breakfast on the table.
Bruce joined you in a beat and eyed you as you grimaced a little while sitting down.
“Everything okay?” He asked.
“Yeah,” you said, voice a bit sarcastic which he didn’t miss.
“That’s not convincing,” he frowned.
“You rearranged my guts last night. I think that has something to do with me having trouble sitting down,” you smirked and he immediately blushed.
You heard a sudden noise from behind you and when you turned around to look, Tim was standing there, looking nauseated. “I’ll uh… have breakfast in my room…” he said.
“I didn’t know you stayed here last night,” you said to him.
“I wish I hadn’t,” he gagged and grabbed a cup of coffee before leaving the two of you alone.
Bruce scrunched his nose and turned his face towards his breakfast.
“Oh don’t go all shy now! You were very vocal last night,” you teased and nudged his foot with yours just to watch his ears turn even redder.
“I think we should take a warm bath together to you know, let our bodies heal,” he suggested.
“Uh huh,” you narrowed your eyes. “And no other reason at all.”
“Of course my darling,” Bruce smiled and tugged you out of your chair before picking you up in his arms.
“No other reason at all.”
my first multi part fic ever feeling nervous
didn’t know which photos to use so…
if you couldn’t tell i’ve been extremely tim drake pilled lately thanks to all the requests ive received for him 😭
likes comments and reblogs appreciated, hope you guys enjoy <3
living in gotham is a thrill that you get after moving from your city, especially when you can make profit out the masked heroes that roams around the city (oh and the masked heroes in question are questioning about it.)
starring.. batboys x gn!reader ★ profanity social media au crackfic tim questions his genius-ness dick finds it hilarious that tim is losing his mind jason almost not gaf made from their povs tim finds you hot at the end tim & dick’s point of view implied alternative universe where the people of gotham is unaware of the heroes roaming.
yours truly, shua — work by shuaze. do not copy, translate, feed to ai, repost on any other platforms.
synopsis ⠀:: ⠀ when you do something that makes them question their sexuality.
including ⠀! ⠀ barbara gordon. stephanie brown. cassandra cain. rachel grayson. jessica todd. tessa drake. diana wayne. ✶
contents ⠀! ⠀ fem reader. obsession. genderbend batboys. women are hot asf. women who love women are angels. masterlist. english is not my first language. ✶
BARBARA GORDON
She is helping you study.
You're leaning over her shoulder to read something on her laptop.
You absentmindedly rest your chin on her shoulder.
"..."
She freezes.
A full body lock, every nerve suddenly tuned to the warmth of your jaw settling into the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. Your breath ghosts across her collarbone, a soft, steady rhythm she can feel through her shirt.
Why do you smell so nice?
Warm skin, clean cotton, and a faint sweetness that makes her mouth water.
No, that's a weird thought.
You're her friend.
Girls smell nice.
Probably.
Then you laugh softly at something on the screen.
Your hand brushes hers.
Barbara's heart skips so fast she nearly drops the keyboard.
"Why that was... hot?"
She spends the next three hours secretly googling things like:
"Can straight women think their female friend is attractive?"
"Why am I nervous around my friend suddenly?"
"Why I feel hot when she touch me?"
By midnight she's staring at her ceiling.
"...Oh fuck."
STEPHANIE BROWN
You're shopping together.
You come out of the changing room wearing a cute dress.
She looks up.
It’s nothing outrageous—just soft fabric that drapes exactly right, hugging your waist, skimming your thighs. But when you do a little spin, the hem flutters up just enough.
"Steph?"
...
...
"..."
Her mouth is completely dry.
The way the light catches the curve of your collarbone, the way the dress moves when you shift your weight, the way you’re looking at her expectantly with those eyes.
Pretty.
...
"WAIT."
She immediately stares at a random lamp, cheeks burning.
"Wow."
"Cool lamp."
You're confused.
"What lamp?"
"I LOVE LAMPS."
She refuses to look at you for the next ten minutes because every time she does—
Pretty girl.
Pretty smile.
Pretty eyes.
"OH GOD."
By the end of the day she's texting Barbara:
"Hypothetically... if your friend is really pretty... and you can’t stop picturing the way her dress hugged her... everything..."
Barbara replies almost immediately.
"You like girls."
Steph throws her phone across the room and presses her thighs together in mortified confusion.
CASSANDRA CAIN
Cass doesn't really categorize attraction with words.
She notices feelings first.
You're laughing.
Your eyes crinkle.
You gently fix the collar of her jacket.
Your fingertips graze the sensitive skin just below her jaw.
"There."
"..."
Cass forgets how to breathe.
Like actually.
Her throat closes. Her heart slams once, hard, then stutters into a frantic rhythm. A flush crawls up her neck, hot and prickly, and her stomach clenches like she’s missed a step on a rooftop.
You tilt your head.
"Cass?"
Nothing.
Her brain has become static.
You poke her cheek.
"...You alive?"
Tiny nod.
Very pink ears.
That night she signs to Barbara:
"Heart...weird."
Barbara immediately assumes medical emergency.
"No."
Cass signs awkwardly.
"Girl."
Barbara slowly blinks.
"Oh."
"...OH."
RACHEL GRAYSON
Tonight she's supposed to be going on a date with her boyfriend, Brandon.
You're helping her get ready.
She sits on your bed while you stand between her knees, close enough that the heat of your body radiates against her.
"So..."
"Don't laugh."
"I'll try."
"I'm nervous."
You laugh anyway.
"It's just Brandon."
"I know!"
You gently tilt her chin.
"Look at me."
She does.
Big mistake.
You're wearing an old crop top.
Every time you lean in, she catches a glimpse of your collarbone...
...the soft curve of your tits peeking above the neckline...
Then your fingers gently rest under her chin.
"So pretty."
You murmur it absentmindedly while blending her makeup.
Pretty...?
You lean even closer.
"Stay still."
Your thumb brushes the corner of her mouth.
Then you carefully apply lip gloss.
"So..."
"..."
"...Almost done."
She isn't listening.
She's staring.
Your eyes are focused completely on her lips.
Your face is only inches away.
Your own lips part slightly in concentration.
Why...
Why do you look so pretty?
Why is the scent of your perfume making her dizzy?
Why does she want to lean forward and close that tiny, unbearable distance?
You finally finish.
"There!"
You beam at her.
The sweetest smile she's ever seen.
"So gorgeous."
She forgets Brandon exists.
For about thirty very confusing seconds.
She stares.
You wave a hand.
"Earth to Rachel?"
"..."
"...Babe?"
"...Can..."
She coughs.
"...Can you...do my makeup again?"
"I literally just finished."
"...Again."
"Why?"
"...Practice."
She absolutely considers canceling her date.
Suddenly she'd rather spend the evening with you cuddling than going out.
JESSICA TODD
Some creep has been bothering you for nearly ten minutes.
You keep trying to leave.
He won't let you.
Then—
A hand grabs his shoulder.
"You deaf?"
Her voice is terrifyingly calm.
"She said no."
One glare.
The guy decides life is precious and disappears.
She immediately turns toward you.
"You okay?"
You don't answer.
Instead—
You throw yourself into her arms.
She catches you immediately.
Your face presses against her chest.
Your fingers clutch her jacket.
When you finally look up—
Your eyes are watery.
Your lips are in the saddest little pout.
"...Thank you."
She feels so fucking hot it's emberassing.
"I..."
"I really needed you."
You sniffle.
"...Can you take me home?"
...
...
Take you home.
You need her.
You're holding her.
Jes forgets how to speak.
"...Uh."
"...Yeah."
"...Home."
She puts an arm around your shoulders.
The whole walk back she's staring aggressively forward because every single time she looks down—
You're leaning against her.
Trusting her.
Depending on her.
Her brain keeps screaming.
FUCKING GOD YOU'RE SO FUCKING ADORABLE.
SHE WILL FIGHT THE ENTIRE CITY FOR YOU.
WAIT.
WHY WOULD SHE FIGHT THE ENTIRE CITY FOR YOU?
Halfway home you hook your pinky around hers without thinking.
She nearly trips over absolutely nothing.
TESSA DRAKE
She has a scientific explanation for everything.
Surely this has one too.
You've fallen asleep beside her during an all night investigation.
ceo tim drake x assistant!reader, fluff and smut (first time writing smut be nice!!!!) MDNI!!! idiots in love, yearner tim drake, (he whimpers :0), based on this request
fanart by @/bee-doodle
It was always slow at Wayne Enterprises around noon. Everyone went to lunch and since you were Tim Drake’s assistant, your lunch hours were different.
You had been mindlessly playing with a W.E pen when you saw Bruce Wayne approaching. Your whole body went rigid at the sight and you quickly opened a random Word document in your computer to pretend to be busy.
Except he didn’t spare you a glance and went straight towards Tim’s glass office doors.
He had that infamous Bruce Wayne stoic expression on his face. Eyebrows slanted, eyes blazed, lips turned upside down. It was enough to make you jump out of your chair.
“Mr. Wayne!” You said and stumbled towards the door of Tim’s office to stop Bruce from going in. “Can I help you?”
“I need to see Tim,” he said with finality in his tone. Jeez did the man ever smile?
“I’m sorry he’s unavailable right now, I can take a message,” you replied with a tight smile.
“It’s urgent,” Bruce pressed.
“I’m afraid he’s on a very important call and asked not to be disturbed.”
“I’m sure he can make time,” he replied, voice getting impatient.
“Okay um, can I at least go in and let him know you’re here?” You asked, hand already turning the doorknob.
Bruce didn’t say anything in return. Which was approval in itself.
You gave him another forced smile and entered Tim’s office.
As expected, he was curled up on the couch that probably cost a million. A throw pillow was clutched in one of his arms while the other was hanging off the side of the couch along with his red tie that he hadn’t even bothered to take off.
When he showed up to work this morning, he looked like he’d been through the ringer last night. Hair disheveled and messy as if he had forgotten to douse it in gel –no pomade (like he had corrected you multiple times) the way he did every morning. Eyes swollen and red and a fresh bruise on his jaw.
Maybe your boss was an underground fight club member.
It almost broke your heart to wake him up, he looked so peaceful and young like this. Like a guy his age should look.
Against your will, you kneeled down next to him and brushed his hair off his face. An involuntary smile appeared on your face at the sight of Tim sleeping and you mentally scolded yourself for it.
The months and months of progress you’ve made to bury your feelings for your boss was not about to go to waste just because he looked adorable while he was sleeping.
“Tim,” you whispered.
He didn’t even stir so you shook his shoulder a bit harder and called out his name again.
“Tim!” You hushed and he finally stirred awake.
“Hey,” he blinked and stared at you with wide blue eyes. “What's up?” He asked, rubbing his eyes open.
“Bruce is here,” you informed.
“Huh?” He asked again and sat up straight.
“Bruce, he’s here,” you repeated.
“Right!” Tim sprang up and tightened his tie before lightly slapping himself awake.
He rounded his desk and sat down on his chair before gulping down the glass of water sitting there.
“Send him in,” he said to you.
You nodded your head and walked out to let Bruce know Tim was ready for him.
“All good,” you smiled at Bruce and gestured for him to go in before going back to your desk.
There was nothing to do. You had answered emails, scheduled Tim’s meetings and organised your desk and it wasn’t even 1 o’clock yet.
Usually Tim was there to entertain you. Sure he had his CEO duties but you usually lounged in his office, sometimes playing chess and sometimes talking about random things while everyone else went for lunch. And sometimes you didn’t even talk, he did his work while you did yours on your little work iPad you carried around.
But today he had been exceptionally tired and the two energy drinks he had didn’t do shit to keep him awake.
He was a good enough boss. Better than your last one really and it probably stemmed from the fact that he was your age.
You had expected a pompous rich nepo baby asshole who happened to have a rich dad who gave him the CEO job for the hell of it when you had applied for the position.
But Tim was none of those things, in fact he was one of the nicest people you knew. A little awkward but extremely talkative and funny in a way most people didn’t really get.
You did though, you laughed with him. You got all of his jokes. Not only his jokes but you had developed a habit of knowing all of his tells. It felt like the two of you had your own secret language.
Like if he was in an extremely boring meeting he didn’t want to be a part of, he would look at you through the glass doors in a silent prayer that only you could understand.
The way his voice always got an octave higher when he was talking about something he liked –which more often than not, only happened when you were around.
It was these little things that added up this last year that made you fall for your boss. And no you wouldn’t tell anyone about this.
You would die with it buried deep in your chest and maybe when he got married to someone one day you would read about it in the newspaper and look away.
Not only was he your boss but you were 101% sure he did not feel the same way.
To him, you were someone he could ask for coffee, to reschedule his meetings and to keep his father away when he took his afternoon naps. He would never see you as a potential romantic partner and you were okay with it.
Plus he paid you enough. If for nothing, you could keep your feelings to yourself for that.
You looked at the glass wall of his office, blinds now drawn up.
Bruce was standing in front of his desk with his palm flat on it. Tim was nodding along to whatever he said but you could tell he wasn’t really listening.
Then he looked up and his eyes met yours.
Those perfect blue doe eyes of his that always made you melt. That made you believe that maybe you could risk it all.
You made a face at him and he smiled. It lit up your whole heart.
A few minutes later, Bruce was gone. All he gave you before leaving was a curt nod.
You were out of your seat and inside Tim’s office within seconds.
“He looked scary today, everything okay?” You checked and sat down on one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Yeah,” Tim let out a loud sigh and tilted his head back. “Another god damn gala next week.”
You snickered. All the Wayne kids hated these galas so much. “Good luck.”
“You’re coming too,” Tim said.
“No thank you,” you scoffed. “I’ve already worn all the nice dresses I had to your galas. Plus, I have a movie date with myself next Saturday. Can’t make it.”
“Reschedule it,” he dismissed.
“You’re not my boss on the weekends Mr. Drake-Wayne.”
“No but I assumed I was your friend and I’m asking for a friendly favour.”
“That’s not how you ask for favours,” you quipped.
“Please, pretty please. I’ll pay for the dress and take you to lunch,” he pleaded with a little pout and fuck if you even stood a chance.
“Fine,” you relented.
“Thank you,” he smiled. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Crash and burn,” you replied.
“I truly would,” he sighed.
You got up from the chair before he could see you getting all flustered and giddy at his stupid remark and left the office.
Tim watched you go and didn’t say anything. Maybe he was still groggy from his little nap or maybe he had given up but either way, he didn’t come up with any more excuses to keep you in his office.
He didn’t really need an assistant, not really. But Bruce had been breathing down his neck about getting one so he could focus more on his other activities.
And when he saw you stumble inside his office and shake his extended hand with your opposite hand, he knew he had to hire you.
Who needs a doctorate for answering phone calls anyway and you were qualified enough.
He was so sure he had made an ass out of himself when he introduced himself to you. But you were equally as awkward, it was a match.
And so what if he didn’t tell you that the company phone he had given you tracked your location.
It wasn’t always there, just after the Christmas party incident of last year when one of Gotham’s many villains decided to pay Wayne Enterprises a visit.
He had to go be Red Robin, he couldn’t exactly keep you safe like that. So a week later you had gotten a brand new company phone which had all the necessary numbers already added in and as Tim told you, it would alert the authorities immediately if you called the number.
He didn’t mention it would alert him before the cops.
In his defense, he just wanted you safe when he couldn’t reach you. You already lived in a shady neighbourhood, he did not want you to be unsafe everywhere else too.
Honestly he paid you enough he still didn’t get why you couldn’t move. Maybe he had to talk to the accounting department to see if he can give you another raise.
Your complaints about your apartment building never stopped. He even hired someone to go over to that building and fix everything they could and even that hadn’t been enough.
A busted intercom, really?
That had been his biggest concern.
Anyway he had gotten it changed the next day.
He watched you now through the glass wall of his office. You were swivelling in your chair, clearly bored out of your mind since he only ever gave you just enough work to not draw any suspicions. Everything else was handled by him.
He picked up the phone on his desk and dialled your desk phone.
You picked it up and in the sweetest voice possible said, “Mister Drake’s office, how can I help you?”
“Mister Drake would like to know why’s his assistant pouting,” Tim said through the phone.
You sighed and looked at him through the wall.
“I’m bored and I’m done with work.”
“Let’s go for coffee then,” Tim offered before he could stop himself. He would give you the world if he could.
“Tim, you have a 1:30 with Lucius Fox,” you reminded him.
“Nooo,” he groaned and put his head on the table. “I don’t want tooooo,” he whined.
“Tough,” you chuckled in response and hung up.
Five seconds later, Tim was leaving his office and coming to you.
He leaned back onto your desk, a bit too close than you’d have liked him to be. You could smell his cologne –something citrusy and rich which made you think of all the wrong things.
“What does Lucius want?” Tim asked and picked up the paperweight from your desk.
“I don’t know, he wouldn’t say,” you rolled your eyes. “A measly little assistant like me wouldn’t even begin to understand the big boy things you do.”
He chuckled and set the paperweight down. “It’s probably just something about the new bio tech subdivision.”
“You’re right I don’t know shit about it,” you said.
“So what’s new?”
“You don’t have to stop working and talk to me just because I’m bored. You should probably be yelling at me or giving me work to do,” you said. “It’ll look like you’re playing favourites.”
“You’re right. Ahem,” he coughed and furrowed his eyebrows. “How dare you sit there and be idle!” He yelled in a serious tone.
“As hilarious as that was,” you smiled. “It’s nearly time for your meeting. Shoo,” you dismissed him.
He whined again. “Can we switch jobs for one day?”
“If I get paid as much as you do, probably yes. Now leave!” You ordered and pushed him off your desk but of course he was probably like 180 something pounds of pure muscle so it was a futile attempt.
“Yeah okay,” Tim sighed and finally moved. “I do need you to check the tech and the accounting files though.”
“I will,” you nodded and swivelled your chair to pull out the chest of drawers that had all the files.
-
It wasn’t until 9 PM that Tim left his office. He probably had one of the longest days of his life today and all he wanted to do was go home and sleep for as many hours as he could before he had to leave for patrol.
But when he saw you still sitting on your desk, he stopped short.
Maybe sleep could wait.
The whole office was already dark, everyone else having gone home. The only light that was on was the lamp on your desk, it cast a painfully white glow on your face but it didn’t make you any less beautiful to him.
“Hey,” Tim said, cutting the silence. “Thought you went home?”
“No I was just finishing up with the files,” you said and turned off your computer. “I thought I was the only one here.”
“I’m just leaving,” he smiled.
“Yeah me too as soon as I find an uber,” you sighed.
“What happened to your car?” Tim asked as you two made your way towards the elevator together.
“Well I took it to the mechanic and he offered me 500 dollars to give it to him so he could pull it apart and use the good parts that still worked,” you replied.
“Good. It was a safety hazard,” he chided and pressed the button for the basement.
“Excuse you,” you huffed.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Tim offered. He didn’t know exactly why he offered but he did and the look on your face made him immediately regret it.
“No that’s okay, I’ll just wait downstairs,” you politely declined.
Nope you wouldn’t. And he didn’t entirely agree with you going home in your weird sketchy neighbourhood in an uber this late at night.
“Come on, I don’t mind. I have to ensure my employees’ safety,” he pressed.
“Well if you have to,” you agreed with a dramatic breath.
Good, you saved him an hour of looking obsessively at his phone just to see if you safely made it home.
He hid his smile and walked out of the elevator after you, quickly making his way to his car.
He opened the passenger side of the door for you, getting a bit too close to shut it behind you then scolding himself for it when the smell of your fruity shampoo wafted over him.
It was truly pathetic of him.
He walked over to his side next and started the car, pulling out of the basement parking lot.
“Thank you for this, you not only saved me time but also money,” you chuckled.
“I’m more than happy to take you home until you get a new car,” he replied then told himself to calm the fuck down.
“That’s okay I usually go home with Zack, he lives around the corner from my apartment.”
Well Zack’s hours will be changing soon.
“Huh,” Tim said and added in your address to his gps.
“How do you know my address?” You frowned.
Fuck.
“It was in your file when you interviewed,” the lie rolled off his tongue so easily it was honestly impressive.
“Oh I didn’t think you read all that,” you said with a surprised chuckle.
“I don’t usually, I read yours though.”
“Why?” You asked, looking over at him.
All he could do in response was shrug.
Silence fell over the two of you after that. It was surprising to Tim how he could be quiet for that long considering he literally never shut up and had the habit of rambling when he was nervous and oh he was nervous around you alright.
It wasn’t awkward though, it was the silence of two people who knew and liked each other and could be in each other’s company without needing to have a conversation to fill the awkward gap.
He was giving you glances occasionally. You were looking out of the window with a content expression and Tim smiled to himself at that.
It took everything in him to remain seated and not reach over and kiss you.
He had the sudden urge to go stargazing with you. It was strange and he was beginning to lose his mind.
A pit of despair fell into his stomach when he turned the corner of your apartment.
He parked the car right outside the curb of your apartment building and got out first. With rushing footsteps, he walked over to your side and pulled the door open before you could.
You gave him a puzzled look and stepped out.
“I should be the one doing that for you, I’m the assistant,” you joked and walked over to the door of your building with Tim behind you.
“Office hours are over. I like to think we’re friends when we’re not colleagues,” he said and stopped right in front of the stairs leading up to the lobby of your apartment.
You stood on the first step, now nearly the same height as him but not quite.
“Thank you,” you smiled shyly and clutched the binders you were holding in your right arm closer to your chest while the left held your laptop bag.
“You’re welcome,” Tim smiled back.
Just as you opened your mouth to say something to keep the conversation going, your phone began ringing in the pocket of your pencil skirt. It was an important call too considering it was your company phone that was buzzing at 9 PM.
“Can you?” You asked, gesturing towards your busy hands.
“Oh um,” he furrowed his brows and looked at you in confusion.
“My phone!” You repeated impatiently.
“Right!” He replied and stepped forward.
One of his arms was curling around your waist so he could reach the back pocket of your skirt. His chest was flush against yours, his cheek touching yours while his palm was snaking inside the back pocket of your skirt.
Your breath hitched immediately at his touch. His hand was warm. And big. And you could feel it against your ass.
His other hand was pinching the fabric of your skirt in his hands to hold it down so he could pull your phone out and your brain short circuited.
By the time he took the phone out, it had stopped ringing.
You looked up at him with wide eyes. He was so close that you could see his crystal blue eyes clearly.
“I meant I needed you to hold my bag,” you let out in a low voice.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, still just an inch away from you.
He licked his suddenly dry lips. His arm was still curled around your waist and your chest was still pressed against his but he didn’t dare let you go.
“It’s fine,” you replied and looked away from him, too flustered to even be around him.
“Sorry,” He quickly repeated and finally let you go when he saw the look on your face. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“Well, bye!” You said and this time, you didn’t spare him another glance before running inside.
Yeah he was definitely going to have to quit his job and stay home and never leave his apartment.
-
When you got to work the next morning, you decided to forget the night before happened. So Tim Drake –your boss (who you had feelings for, not to mention) gave you a ride home. So what? He probably did that with all his employees. And it was a simple misunderstanding that he had his hand on your ass to pull your phone out.
That's what you had been telling yourself all the way to work.
What the hell was he doing anyway? He was your boss. He was your boss who you had very strong feelings for and he shouldn’t be this close to you while looking like that when he was the reason you stayed up all night overthinking every interaction.
Fuck him.
The next few days at work included you avoiding Tim at all costs and him doing the same.
He walked over to his office every morning and never even spared you a glance which was so unlike him because he always stopped at your desk in the mornings to chit chat about random things. It was one of your favourite things about him, his ability to talk and talk.
You looked at him through the glass wall one time despite yourself. He was leaning his head back on his chair with both of his hands covering his face like he was having an existential crisis.
You quickly looked away before he could look at you because that had been your thing, he always somehow caught your eyes.
For the next few days, you worked and worked and didn’t give Tim one glance or even talk to him unless absolutely necessary.
It was Saturday now, the night of the gala.
You were in the makeshift ballroom on the ground floor of the Wayne Enterprises building where the gala was supposed to be held.
Tim hadn’t been here yet and you were somewhat grateful for that. You still needed to get your nerves together before you could see him again after avoiding him for days.
He hadn’t been joking when he told you he would pay for your dress because he had and it was a very expensive gift that you were wearing.
It was a simple sleek black full body dress that had rhinestones on the corseted chest area and you were utterly grateful for Tim’s black amex card.
As if you had summoned him by thinking about him, he walked in with Dick, Steph and Cass behind him.
His eyes immediately spotted you at the bar with none other than Zack.
You were laughing at something he had said and it was enough to make Tim clench his teeth in frustration.
It was almost as if you two were tethered because you felt his gaze on you and before he could even approach, you met his eyes from across the room.
You excused yourself from Zack and went over to Tim and his siblings.
Steph immediately engulfed you in a friendly hug. So did Cass while complimenting your dress. Dick hugged you as well because he was Dick and he was a hugger.
It would look extremely weird if you only left out Tim so you quickly reached forward to give him an awkward side hug but he put both his arms on your waist instead.
You pulled away but he still lingered, hands still clutching your waist until he finally let you go and gave you an awkward smile.
“You look…” he trailed off and swallowed thickly, looking you up and down.
Hot?
Ravishing?
Like out of his wet dream?
“Gorgeous,” he settled on the safest option.
“Oh look alcohol!” Steph cheered and quickly walked away with Cass behind her.
“I’ll just uh,” Dick said and gave you a tight smile before leaving you two alone.
Subtle.
“Thank you,” you smiled and felt your cheeks heat up under Tim’s scrutinised gaze.
“You’re welcome,” he smiled back. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something in my office and I’m afraid it can’t wait,” he said in one breath.
“Is everything okay?” You asked, suddenly worried.
“Yeah yeah,” he shook his head. “Just something work related.”
“Okay…” You said and followed him towards the elevator to go up to his office.
“I uh,” he began once you two were in his office. “I’m sorry. About that night. I shouldn’t have touched you like that, I wasn’t thinking. I think I’m just leaning too much on you and it’s not fair to either of us. I’m your boss and it’s just inappropriate.”
“Tim,” you said and backed away from him. “It’s fine, you sound like you’re breaking up with me,” you chuckled then mentally slapped yourself.
He laughed too but it felt forced. “Maybe. Um look, you’ve been a great employee and I swear you’ve saved my life multiple times. At times, it felt like I couldn’t have survived this job if it wasn’t for you and I’m so so grateful–”
“Are you firing me?” You interrupted his rambling.
“No!” He exclaimed. “I’m offering you a promotion. It’s in the marketing department. It’s the job you’re most qualified for based on your resume and you’ve proven more than once that you’re a great employee so,” he stopped and looked at you expectantly.
“Oh,” was all you could say. “That’s… a lot.”
“Take your time to think about it,” he added quickly.
“It means you won’t be my boss anymore,” you said instead.
“Yeah,” Tim replied with a small smile.
And that felt like a small win.
The offer had been a surprise even to him. He had to go talk to Tam and she didn’t understand why he suddenly wanted to get rid of you but it all clicked together within seconds.
He had looked so miserable while talking about how amazing of an employee you were. She got the feeling he didn’t want to let you go as much as he wanted to let you in.
He couldn’t stand to be your boss anymore and he would pray to any god who would listen that you accepted the offer.
You stared at the clock ticking behind Tim for a second before your eyes landed on his crooked tie.
“Your tie,” you giggled.
“Don’t be rude. I had to watch a youtube tutorial because my assistant who always did my ties has been avoiding me,” he said before he could stop himself.
“I’m not avoiding you,” you sighed and stepped closer to fix his tie.
Tim’s heated gaze stayed on you as your fingers brushed his neck and collar to fix his tie. He had known how to tie a tie of course he had, you don’t grow up in the upper class world of Gotham without learning how to tie a tie.
But the first time you had seen him in his office with his tie turned backwards during your first week at the job and offered to do it for him, he had let you.
He had been a fool that entire meeting. He didn’t hear a word Bruce said, just kept looking at his tie with a stupid smile plastered on his face.
He had vowed to never do his ties again after that. Any excuse to get you to touch him was enough.
You stood inches away from him now in the dim light of his office. Looking something out of his wildest fantasies and he didn’t know how much longer he could pretend.
The detective in him had also noticed the shift in you too. How your breathing got shorter every time he was in your vicinity, how your eyes always sought him out, how you laughed way too loudly you almost snorted whenever he made a joke.
Maybe he had won and maybe you did want him after all but he would never do anything on a whim to jeopardise what you had. He’d be your friend forever if it meant he could keep you in his life.
“We missed our chess game this week,” he said now, in a low voice as he gazed down at your pouty lips perfectly painted with gloss that he would think about until the day he died.
“I was busy with work,” you lied.
You stayed put in your spot just inches away from Tim even after you were done fixing his tie. A palm glued flat on his chest while the other fell helplessly at your side.
You blinked as if something had finally snapped you back to reality and moved away from him.
Just as you turned around to leave, Tim’s common sense bid him goodbye too.
He was quick to grab your wrist and jerk you back towards his chest. Before either of you could ever process what was happening, Tim’s lips were on yours.
A surprised gasp left your mouth at the sudden kiss. Your eyes blown wide in complete contrast to Tim’s closed ones. He wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you flushed against him in case he was dreaming again.
He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, realising what he had done.
“I’m sorr-” he began but you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back down for a kiss.
One of his arms remained around your waist while the other rubbed up and down your back like he was too scared to even loosen his grip in case you disappeared.
“Tim,” you managed to speak between the searing hot kisses he was giving you.
“Yeah?” He asked and reached for your mouth again, taking your bottom lip between his teeth.
“Wait,” you panted and pushed him away.
He finally relented and let you go. Chest heaving with so much hunger for you he was practically buzzing.
“We can’t do this, you’re still my boss,” you murmured.
“Yeah,” he chuckled without any humour and wiped your lip gloss off his mouth. “Let’s go back.”
“Tim, wait,” you said and he turned around to look at you. “I said we can’t do this. While you’re my boss,” you repeated.
“I get it,” he took in a frustrated breath and ran his ring clad hand through his raven hair. “You don’t have to repeat it. I didn’t forget.”
“You know for a prodigy you really are dense,” you quipped, making him look at you in confusion. “I’m saying I accept the offer you idiot.”
“Oh!” His eyes widened and a grin broke out on his face.
You smiled and stared at him, waiting for him to kiss you again but he just stood there and mirrored your expression.
“Tim!”
“What?” He asked in confusion.
“Kiss me, you fool!”
“Oh right!” He jumped forward and picked you up, causing you to giggle before he sat you down on his desk.
“You’re so stupid,” you chastised.
He rested his forehead against yours. “Careful, I’m technically still your boss.”
“Sorry, Mr. Drake,” you mewled, trailing your painted nail down his clothed chest.
Tim sucked in a breath and finally kissed you again with all his of pent up hunger pouring out in one single kiss.
“You have no idea,” he spoke in a deep voice, momentarily stopping sucking on your bottom lip to talk. “Always in those damn skirts of yours, sitting right in front me.”
“What-”
“Shh,” he said and put his finger on your glossy lips.
You looked at him through a needy gaze before parting your lips so your tongue could slip out and swirl around his finger.
He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes for a second at the sight of you parting your lips to wrap around his finger.
“Fuck,” he cursed and parted your legs so he could slot himself in between them.
With a tsk, he pulled his hand away from your mouth and trailed it down your neck and collarbones, leaving goosebumps of desire in his wake.
Once he reached your breasts, he brushed his thumb over one nipple through the fabric of your dress and you could have sworn your brain shut down at the sensation that shot through your whole body and ended up right between your legs.
“Tim,” you whispered and pulled him towards you by his tie. “I need you…”
“Need me to what?” He asked against your mouth like the little shit he was.
“You know,” you groaned in impatience.
“I don’t,” he smirked, feigning innocence.
“Touch me,” you managed.
“I am touching you,” he replied and bit his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling at your already fucked out state.
“You’re so annoying,” you rolled your eyes and pushed him away to hop off the desk but he laughed instead and stopped you.
“You can’t even say you want me to fuck you,” he chuckled condescendingly.
Your cheeks heated at his crudeness but you didn’t say anything. Not that you could because he immediately got down on his knees right in front of you and slowly with careful hands, pushed your dress up.
He trailed wet open mouthed kisses from your calf to your inner thigh, making your chest heave up and down in excitement.
He parted your knees next and cursed under his breath at the sight or your lace panties.
“You wear that for me?” He asked and looked up at you through long black lashes.
“No…” You teased. “It was for Zack.”
“Oh?” He raised a brow and put his thumb right where you needed him, applying just enough pressure through your panties as a form of punishment. “Then why aren’t you with him? Why are you here letting me touch you like this?” he finished and applied even more pressure until your jaw went slack in pleasure.
“Tim please,” you whimpered.
“Maybe I should leave you here like this, spread open on my desk for Zack to find,” he clicked his tongue and pulled his hand away, about to stand up.
“Don’t you dare!” You fumed and pushed him back down with your hand in his hair.
He chuckled triumphantly like he was so proud for calling your bluff and moved closer to press a light kiss over your panties. “You still haven’t told me what you need from me?”
“I need you to make me cum,” you whined, voice cracking like you were about to cry with how turned on you were.
“Don’t cry sweetheart I’ll take care of you,” Tim cooed. “You just had to ask.”
“I’m asking you,” you bit your bottom lip when you felt his long and nimble fingers slide your panties down your thighs so slowly it felt like torture.
He kept pressing wet kisses on your thighs until your panties were off and tucked away safely in the pocket of his suit jacket.
His thumb found its way back to your clit –this time without the barrier of your panties. You immediately melted at the strange yet pleasant feeling of his fingers rubbing your wetness.
“Who got you this wet?” He murmured with so much desire in his voice, you were surprised he hadn’t fucked you yet.
“You did,” you whispered.
“See? You can be a good girl, just need a little nudge,” he gave you a sweet smile and put his fingers back on your clit.
He leaned even closer and finally put his lips on you, swirling his hot tongue around your wetness. Your mind went blank at the first flick of his tongue and all you could do was let out small whimpers of pleasure.
He let go of your dress that he was holding up, causing it to fall over his head and used both of his hands to part your legs even further.
His finger came back and prodded at your opening before slowly pushing in, causing your fingers to tighten up in his hair. He grunted at the feeling which in turn sent a wave of pleasure through you.
“Oh… fuck,” you gasped when he nipped at your clit. “Right there, fuck!”
You felt yourself get closer and closer to your release with each movement of his finger in and out of you moving in tandem with little flicks of his tongue on your clit and right when the coil in your stomach was about to break, he pulled away.
“What the fuck?” You bellowed.
He pulled his head out of your dress and stood up to his full height, lips now swollen and glistening with your juices. A teasing smirk made its way on his lips at your reaction but he didn’t do anything about it.
Instead, the asshole just stood there and sucked your juices off his fingers.
“Why’d you stop?” You whined and he stepped forward.
He pressed his lips against yours in response. You could taste yourself on his tongue as it tangled with yours before he finally pulled away and walked over to the front of his desk.
“Tim what's so important right now?” You watched him in impatience as he opened the drawer and pulled out a condom.
“You have a condom just sitting there?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged and came in to stand in front of you. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to fuck you. I had to be prepared in case the opportunity presented itself.”
“You are so weird,” you giggled and watched as he took off his dress jacket and tossed it on an empty chair.
“Weird or practical?” Tim asked with a raise of his eyebrows.
You pulled him forward by his tie again instead of answering and plucked the condom out of his hand. He watched as your fingers traveled down to unbutton his dress pants with such determination he would almost smile at how cute you were if he wasn’t hard as a rock.
Your lips found their place in the crook of his neck, pressing wet kisses everywhere you could on the exposed skin while you fiddled with the button of his pants.
His pants finally came off low enough for his bulge to be free from the painful confines. Your lips were still attached to his neck, giving him hickeys just because you could and just because he looked too damn delicious in that black suit of his.
“Possessive much?” He chuckled.
You pushed his boxers down and his cock sprang free. Your eyes travelled low to take in the sight of the leaking red tip of his cock. It probably wasn’t appropriate to think of dicks as pretty but you weren’t sure if there was any other way to describe Tim’s.
Tearing the foil wrapper open with your teeth, you rolled the condom onto his dick with precision, causing him to let out a shaky breath.
“Okay enough,” he grunted and swatted your hand away, taking his cock in his own hands.
He tugged it once, twice before putting the tip right over your clit, not quite pushing it in.
“Tim I swear to god…” You threatened through gritted teeth which was enough for him.
He finally pushed all the way in, knocking the breath out of your lungs.
“Fuuuck,” he moaned, head falling forward on your shoulder.
He turned his head to the side and pulled your earlobe between his teeth before letting it go and nipping at the exposed skin of your neck.
“Move, please,” you croaked.
“You feel so much better than I imagined,” he moaned and began thrusting in and out of you. “And believe me I’ve thought about this a lot.”
“Pervert,” you giggled and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.
“If you knew half the things that went through my head every time I saw you…” He trailed off and raised his head up from your shoulder.
He attached his lips to your collarbones instead, the deep V line of your dress exposing enough of your skin for him to go feral. He kissed and sucked on your skin until he reached the valley between your breasts.
“Tim!” You cried out in pleasure, feeling his tip hit all the right places.
“Keep saying my name,” he coaxed and licked your nipple through the fabric of your dress.
“God fuck!” You screamed, hands coming back to his dark locks. “Keep going!”
He raised his head back to his full height and rested his forehead against yours, still thrusting in and out of you at a relentless pace.
The wooden desk rocked back and forth underneath the two of you with each harsh thrust he delivered accompanied by a whimper and he sounded so pretty you couldn’t help but kiss him.
Your other hand flew to the side to grip the edge of the table but it collided with the pen holder instead, causing it to fall down on the floor with a clatter.
“You feel like a dream,” he panted against your lips. “Fuck baby… so… warm… you’re made for this. For me, aren’t you?”
“I’m close,” you cried once the earlier feeling of your impending release washed over you again.
“Say it,” Tim gritted. “Say this pussy belongs to me and I’ll let you cum.”
“Fuck!” You cried again and pulled at his dark hair. “It’s yours, it’s always been yours.”
“Yeah?” He pecked your lips and sped up his pace. “God I’m so in love with you,” he confessed through clenched teeth.
“I… I love you too,” you whispered.
“Cum for me baby,” he cooed and reached his hand down to rub tight circles on your clit. “Cum on my cock. Show me how much you love me.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Apparently it was the only thing you could chant as you fell apart on his cock.
“I love you… fuuuck… I love you so much,” he almost whined in his fucked out state before finally releasing into the condom.
Tim immediately fell limp on top of you, not caring that you were both still dressed in extremely expensive clothes and had a whole gala to go back to.
Your hand came up again to cradle his head to your shoulder while he tried to regulate his breathing.
“You mean it?” He asked and looked at you through glossy eyes. “You love me?”
“I do,” you smiled and cupped his cheeks. “I’ve loved you for about a year now,” you said with a shy smile.
“I might actually be an idiot,” he laughed at himself and slowly pulled out of you, making you both gasp.
“I can’t believe you fucked me on your desk,” you said like suddenly realising what you had done while you fixed the top of your dress.
The condom was discarded now and his boxers and pants were pulled up. If it wasn’t the mess of his hair and the hickey on his neck, you would have no idea what just happened mere seconds ago.
He grabbed a few tissues from the desk and cleaned you up before helping you off the table. He was being so careful and gentle with you it was almost impossible to believe he was the same person who rearranged your insides just a minute ago.
“Tim, my panties?” You looked around the dim office in confusion, trying to remember where he threw them off in the haze of want and need.
“I think I’ll hang on to those,” he smirked and pulled you in for another kiss.
this was such a fun request, thank you anon! hope it was what you wanted!
whys writing smut so hard? i always think i’m so bad at it
likes comments and reblogs appreciated, hope you guys enjoy <3
cw ; fem reader, perv!tim makes a reappearance, munch!tim, tim is a dom on this blog (who also whimpers)
i think tim would obsess once he finds out. doesn’t matter your relationship. if it’s bsf!tim it definitely comes out during a random conversation when he’s over at your place. you let it slip out on accident but he doesn’t miss it. “… you’re a virgin?” gets hard immediately. doesn’t want to push you or rush you, so he finds an excuse to go to the bathroom to jerk off.
within the week he’s got you under him.
if it’s bf!tim he’d still obsess but would be much more patient. especially if it came up during foreplay.
regardless of relationship though, he’d spend so long between your legs, making you cum on his tongue at least twice. maybe even three times if you can take it. insists it’s to prep you but he really just wants an excuse to eat you out. stretches you open on his fingers until he thinks you’re ready.
almost bottoms out instantly as soon as he barely has his tip pushed in. fists the sheets and whines right against your ear.
once you’re adjusted to his size, he’s fucking you… semi-rough. every time you squeak when he bottoms all the way out, balls pressed to your ass, he apologizes all shaky only to do it again.
“i’m sorry— nghh, feels so good.”
nearly cums inside you, unless you give him the okay then he’s absolutely pumping you full of him and will fuck it deep into you until he’s satisfied. if not he pulls out and finishes on your legs or stomach.
then he flips you over and fucks you from behind. i think tim loves this position ‘cause you get so noisy <3 he gets a little mean in this position— will spank you, will pull hair if that’s applicable to you, will wrap his arm around your neck in a headlock.
could very easily turn into marathon sex if you’re into it. tim’s stamina is built for it. will bend you in every position, usually ones where he’s in control.
and his aftercare is simple but it’s good! will either stay inside you and cuddle you from behind or pull out and have you lie on his chest. either way he’s fussing over you.. just a little <3 the type to run a hand down your back and ask, “are you okay? did i hurt you?” after rearranging your insides :3
following up on virgin!reader, i like the idea of an oblivious reader talking to bsf!tim about maybe wanting to experiment a little, gain some experience before getting into something serious… maybe even asking if he knows anyone who’d be interested in something like that lmao
OHHHH YES, you’d drive him crazy
because bsf!tim thinks he’s obvious. he’s touching you constantly, showers you with compliments, and gets you pretty much anything you want if you ask nicely <3 growing up rich benefited him in that aspect.
he also gets jealous. painfully so, at least thinks he’s obvious about it. you could be talking to other guy friends or even worse, going on a date and while he’s not totally vocal about his jealousy, it’s present in his actions. he’ll clench his jaw, bounce his knee, gets short with you, maybe even a little annoyed, and then feels bad when you get upset so he apologizes and then blames it on lack of sleep.
but then one night he’s on your bed with you, arm around you, you’re convinced it’s just platonic cuddles! but tim’s already half hard and trying to hide it.
“i don’t know, i just wanted to give it a try,” you shrug. “do you… know anyone who’d be down to teach me?”
yeah, him!
but he holds his composure, arm tightening around your waist a fraction. if you weren’t so blind to his feelings you’d feel the jealousy rolling off him. more than jealousy. he’s pissed. why would you need anyone else to fuck when he’s right there?
“are you kidding?” he’s trying to be patient but it’s getting marginally more difficult when you’re not even considering him as an option.
before you can get the words out, he’s shifting his position to pin you down, one long-fingered hand holding both of your wrists down. he’s a lot stronger than he looks. you couldn’t budge if you wanted to.
“fuck everyone else, you have me.” he proves his point by pressing his hips into yours, letting you feel the hard bulge in his sweats press against your pussy.
in minutes he’ll be eating you out with your knees bent to your ears.
Warning: no mentions of readers gender, batman slander? somewhat suggestive, everyone is of age.
You unknowingly praise their second identity in front of them.
Dick G.
You were sitting on your phone with your best friend, chatting about the latest catastrophes in Gotham when she brought up Nightwing.
"Oh girl, did you hear about the spotting of Nightwing last night? He was helping Batman and, oh my God, he looked sooo good," she giggled.
"Oh my—no I didn't. Send it to me, like, NOW."
You might have a slight crush on Nightwing from the one night he saved you from a drugged-up burglar. He carried your work bags and walked you home. Ever since then, you've fallen for him.
A smile took over your face as your phone dinged back to back with blurry pictures of Nightwing.
"OH MY GOSH! He looks so good, especially the last one. Very cinematic." You chuckled, referring to the photo of him standing on the ledge of a building, slightly looking back as the city lights illuminated his silhouette. He could star in a movie.
"God, I wish he'd come to Gotham all the time!"
"Whatcha lookin' at?" You jumped at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.
"Oh—uh, nothing. Just looking at some photos." You felt bad for lying.
"Hm. What photos?" He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, causing his shirt to rise and show off his V-line.
You swallowed thickly, eyeing him up and down. He was wearing gray sweats that hung too low and a black muscle tank he had cropped himself. Talk about an '80s heartthrob.
"It's just photos my friend sent." You could hear her giggling through the phone, saying something along the lines of, "You're in trouble."
"Shut up, I'll call you later." You quickly pressed the red button and locked your phone.
Dick approached the bed, plopping down beside you and resting on his forearm.
"Come on, show me… or you're gonna make me think you're doing something naaaughty." He sang the last word, tilting his head as he looked at you with those big doe eyes you adored so much.
You felt horrible finding another man attractive when you had such a caring, loving boyfriend right here. You pouted, looking down at your phone and then back at him. With a sigh, you turned your phone back on and showed him.
"We were talking about Nightwing and how… cute he is."
Dick examined the picture for a second before smirking. "Can't blame you. Dude's got killer quads."
Your eyes widened for a second. "Wait… you're not upset?" You eyed him suspiciously.
He scoffed out a laugh. "No. Why would I be? He's nice-looking. Plus, I got something he doesn't."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "What?"
"You." He swiftly sat up, yanking your thighs toward him and wrapping your legs around his torso. He leaned down, trapping you beneath him as he placed a hand beside your head. Your stomach immediately erupted with butterflies.
"No matter how many superheroes you have a crush on, I'll always have your heart."
He smiled, holding your chin in between his thumb and index finger.
"And you're just okay with this?"
He shrugged. "What can I do? You have eyes. Plus, I know you're loyal. It's like you liking one of those anime guys—it's just never going to happen."
You gasped, lightly hitting his chest. “Rude!”
He laughed, but something in his eyes told you he was holding back. You didn't know what it was, but you weren't going to worry about it.
Jason T.
You were watching the late-night news when a story about Red Hood popped up. He had saved the mayor from an assassination attempt. The news reporter stood outside the building where the crime had taken place, explaining how it all went down.
A moment later, they showed shaky phone footage of him carrying the mayor over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes while shooting at what you assumed were the bad guys.
You bit your bottom lip, holding back a smile.
“Mmm, what a man,” you whispered to yourself.
“What was that?”Your boyfriend peeked up from his book.
“Oh, uh… nothing. Just watching the news.” You cleared your throat and pointed to the TV.
“Hm.”
You avoided his gaze and continued watching.
“You… don’t like him, do you?” he asked, marking his page before closing the book. Heat rose up your neck and spread across your cheeks.
“No… maybe?” You winced, not wanting to look at him. “Okaaay! I do. He’s hot, and strong, and he’s for the people!”
Jason scoffed.
“I mean, this guy is like a tank.” He can take a hit and keep moving. I once saw a video of him take out ten drug dealers at once and just walk it off.”
Jason shook his head in disapproval.
“He’s a murderer. Trust me, there’s nothing to admire about him.”His body became tense, almost as if the more he thought about Red Hood, the angrier he got.
A deep silence fell over the room for a few seconds. You slouched into yourself with a frown.
“I-I wouldn’t say that, Jason…”
You continued, “Red Hood is a lifesaver. He fights for the little guys who can’t protect themselves. He might take lives, but what would you rather have—an innocent person dead or a psychotic human trafficker running around the streets?”
“And dare I say…” You covered your face with both hands like you’d just confessed to a crime. “…he’s better than Batman.”
Complete shock took over his face watching you hide behind your hands. Jason’s cheeks turned a dusty rose color.
“Wh-what?! You think Red Hood’s better than Batman?”
“Well, yes. He gets rid of the bad guys. Batman just puts them in jail—or barely that—and then they break out and repeat the cycle. Now, in no way, shape, or form am I saying murder is right. Absolutely not. BUT if it’s between a mom and her kids or a killer clown… kill the clown.”
Jason was stunned. He’d never heard you speak about a topic this adamantly before—not unless it was about one of those romance books you read or the political state of the world. But never about vigilantes or what people like to call anti-hero’s.
Honestly, he was kind of proud.
“I… for the first time in years, I’m speechless.” He admitted.
You shrugged and switched the TV over to Netflix.
“Well, that’s just my take on it. Don’t get too mad over it. I just prefer Red Hood over Batman.”
While you flipped through the menu looking for a movie, Jason hid a proud smile behind his hand. You had unknowingly made him fall for you even harder.
Tim D.
You and your boyfriend Tim were having your monthly shopping trip. He held your hand while carrying your bag in his other hand, while simultaneously being on his phone. You weren’t upset because you knew he was taking care of business.
You smiled happily swinging his hand back and forth looking into the shops as you passed by. One shop in particular caught your attention. You let out a gasp, dragging him behind you.
“Look Tim! It’s Red Robin plushies, oh my goodness.” You smiled gushing over the plushies on display in the window.
“Come, I want one!” You dragged your boyfriend into the shop. You were in awe they had all the justice league in plushie form, including Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin. Of course your favorite was Red Robin.
“Uh babe?”
“Hmm?” You asked looking at the wall of trinkets.
You browsed through the stickers, keychains, bracelets— they had so much stuff. You could spend a fortune in here.
“Just out of curiosity when did you start liking Red Robin?” He asked watching you be so giddy over the overpriced items.
“What do you mean silly I’ve always liked him— I oooh this one would go so well in my car! Imma hang it from the mirror.” You smile waving a tiny Red Robin symbol in his face.
“What do you mean, what do I mean? You’ve never mentioned this guy.”
You frowned. You looked up at nothing trying to remember if you mentioned him or not. You shrug, maybe you didn’t…oops.
“I swear i did, if I didn’t yes I like Red Robin. He’s such the hot nerdy type…kinda like you!”You smirked teasing him. Tim’s face grew a bright red.
“You think I’m hot? Wait— nerdy?!”
You shrugged, “well yes, you’re incredibly smart, very handsome, an extremely hard worker, you manage to remember things I’ve said only once…which is a bit scary but I kinda like it.”
“All the qualities I love in a guy, plus you have a killer physique. Definitely a sleeper build.” You smirked pecking his lips. He stood there stunned, like the first time you ever kissed him.
“Sleeper build?” He repeated your words as if it was a foreign language. If he wasn’t blushing he was blushing now.
You spent the last ten minutes collecting figurines, plushies and stickers of Red Robin and Tim happily paid for it all. The most eager he’s ever been to spend money.
“You actually like Red Robin? Not many people remember he’s even a Robin…” he trialed off with a long look in his eye.
“Of course I do, he’s very brave and smart. People pay more attention to Nightwing but I think he’s just as cool.”
Tim fell silent watching the road as he drove. It wasn’t an awkward silence just a comfortable one almost like he was thinking.
“You said I…had a killer physique?” He glanced at you then back at the road.
You kind of cringed at the word choice hearing it from him.
“maybe, why bring it up now?” You gave him a teasing look.
“Nothing…just wanna show you what it can do. If you allow me” he glanced over to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. You felt the car pick up speed, you let out a flustered giggle.
“You’re a mess Tim.”
Damian W.
You were lying on your boyfriend’s bed while he was immersed in his sketchbook. You were scrolling through Twitter when you pass a tweet posted by Gotham’s_Gossip, it was about Robin.
Robin saves civilians from The Riddler only for said civilians to still feel unsafe. A trash title paired with a blurry picture of Robin swinging from rooftops.
Out of curiosity you clicked the post to read to comments and to your surprise they were really mean.
‘Not surprised he’s rude.’
‘Believable. He saved me from a thief than told me I’m an idiot for being out late’
‘Boooo. Never liked him anyways. That can’t be the same robin batman had before, he was such a joy’
‘Lol why is this kinda funny’
You frowned scrolling further down and they all were hate comments.
“What incompetent people, they wouldn’t know a good hero if they smacked them in the face.” you mumbled spam reporting the post.
“What’s the matter?” Damians smooth voice drifted through the room.
You shut your phone off smacking it on the bed, “nothing its just…Gotham is so hard on Robin. He’s doing his best, all heroes don’t have to be all smiles and rainbows. The guy saved your life and you’re complaining? If I were him I’d let them get roughed up a bit before helping.”
Amused Damian’s lips held a slight smile.
“Beloved, why are you so adamant about defending Robin?”
You shrugged sitting up “I dunno, I always liked him I guess.” You whispered the last part hoping Damian didn’t hear but of course he heard.
Now intrigued he closed his sketchbook and sat up from his desk.
“You…like Robin?” He asked voice full of skepticism.
You contemplated on answering that question. Damian has always had a jealousy streak no matter how many times he denied it, you could always tell.
“Well yes” you answered carefully. “He’s very calculated, strong and incredibly smart when it comes to taking down bad guys bigger than him.”
Damians cocked an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t have to be like Superman. Smiling and taking photos, he’s already putting his life on the line to save the city the least they can do is say thank you geez. You don’t see Mary Sue going out at night with her child’s baseball bat beating up criminals do you?”
For some odd reason that got a small chuckle out of Damian. Maybe the thought of a middle aged mom with a bat sitting on rooftops waiting for criminals amused him.
You chuckled too imagining it.
“It is nothing to worry about, my heart. I’m sure those comments do not bother him. He seems very disciplined and couldn’t care less about what those people think.”
You snorted. “Well they should appreciate him more.”
Damian’s expression softened ever so slightly, “You speak as though you know him personally.”
“I don’t.” You quickly defended. “I just think people are unfair. Everyone praises Batman, but Robin is out there doing the same thing. He’s younger too. That has to be difficult, especially juggling his personal life along with being a vigilante.”
For a moment Damian simply stared at you. Difficult? Most people assumed Robin enjoyed the danger, the violence, the endless patrols. Very few stopped to consider the weight that came with the mantle.
“You think highly of him.”
You nodded “Someone has to, plus I think he’s kinda cute ” The answer came so quickly Damian almost choked on air.
You frowned looking at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying not to laugh ” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“I am just merely surprised that is all.” Damian leaned back against his chair. “Tell me. What else do you admire about this Robin?”
You groaned immediately. “See? This is why I didn’t want to answer.”
“Answer.” He pressed.
“You’re being weird about it.” You picked up a pillow throwing it at him, but he caught it effortlessly.
“And you are avoiding the question.” You narrowed your eyes before finally relenting.
“Fine. I think he’s brave.” Damian’s teasing expression faltered. “Brave?”
“Yeah. People hate him, criminals want him dead, reporters make fun of him, and he still goes out every night. I’d quit I don’t have time for all of that.”
A strange warmth settled in Damian’s chest. “You would quit?”
“Oh absolutely. Gotham would be on its own, good luck with fighting off alien and psychotic clowns.” That earned a genuine laugh from him.
You blinked shocked, Damian isn’t the type of person who laughs a lot. Especially not at your corny jokes “Wow. You’re really enjoying this conversation huh?”
He shrugged not hiding it, “Perhaps.”
You narrowed your eyes at him suspicious as to why this conversation amused him so much. “Should I be concerned?”
“No.” He simply answered but the smile never left his face.
You pointed accusingly at him. “You know, for someone who claims not to care about Robin, you’re awfully invested in hearing me compliment him.”
Damian nearly gave himself away. “Perhaps I simply have excellent taste in conversation.” With that he turned around opening his sketchbook once again.
You shrugged him off laying back down busying yourself on your phone.
night shift attending!reader who didn’t expect to match with gotham’s trauma centre. you don’t even remember putting it down on your list, but someone had to match there and that someone was you. most other workers at the hospital were in the same boat as you or had trauma bonded with the city in their youth and refused to leave.
night shift attending!reader who got the offer for attending position on night shift the day their residency ended. without any other offers, you took the job if only for the pay.
night shift attending!reader who meets batman on your very first shift as attending. you’d seen him around before, but weren’t important then. now, as he stands in the middle of your ER looking around for the former attending he was used to (an old, grumpy man who was more than eager to retire), you introduce yourself. he doesn’t comment on how young you are.
night shift attending!reader who meets damian wayne next. a scraggly, feisty child who had cut his arm at a gala on a flute of wine. since it was too public not to go to hospital, dick has to drag him there kicking and screaming. “I struggle to understand why we could not go to—” your stern stare shuts him up. he at least has the decency to look embarrassed up until you give him candy for ‘being so brave’. he scoffs at it but you catch him eating it when dick’s not looking.
night shift attending!reader who takes no shit from anybody anymore. you’re too fed up, too tired, too overworked to be polite to those who don’t deserve it. hospital ceo? vigilantes? villains? it doesn’t matter to you.
night shift attending!reader who has taught villains not to cause dramas around 7 am because when they eventually get caught and go to gotham central for care, you give them an earful while treating them (alone, of course, since you’re not going to risk your coworkers).
night shift attending!reader who has chewed out each member of the batfamily in the middle of the ER more than once for a variety of reasons. even red hood, despite his physique and intimidating stature, is not safe from your ridicule.
night shift attending!reader who attends a Wayne gala as a thanks for your efforts at the hospital, i.e. you stayed the longest. when you call tim’s name from behind him, he startles and jumps out of his skin. duke, a little off to the side, does the same. how odd, you think, before brushing it off.
night shift attending!reader who doesn’t take the offer for an attending position at new york after mentioning it once to nightwing and getting an entire group of vigilantes convincing you to stay for the next week. in all honesty, you were never even considering the offer, but it’s nice to know you’ve grown on them as much as they have on you.
a/n: the second oneshot from this series :) my requests are open as well so feel free to send in ideas!
masterlist
"Hey, uh…would you happen to know why I have no access whatsoever to Batcomputer? Or why I’ve been taken off patrol tonight?" Your boyfriend's—Tim Drake's—voice drifts into the room, and you look up to find him leaning against the doorframe. You're sprawled out on the sectional, legs kicked up on the armrest without a care in the world.
"Maybe."
"What did you do? I'm in the middle of trying to figure out a case, and I wanted to do recon tonight to hammer out some evidence I was missing."
"I told Bruce you needed a break. Gave him a real good sob story, actually. You've got tonight and tomorrow off."
"Baby. Love of my life…" Tim walks over to the couch, kneels at your head, and cups your face, "what possessed you to do that?"
"You've gotten 20 hours of sleep in the past week, Tim."
"That's…not that bad," he mumbles sheepishly.
"If I told you I had only slept for 20 hours in a week, you'd swaddle me in a blanket and keep me in a dark room until I fell asleep." Tim sighs and droops in defeat at your words because yeah. Okay. Maybe you have a point.
"Did you really have to get Bruce involved?" he whines. "He was giving me that silently disappointed stare and told me that I needed to listen to you more."
"One, he is a very smart man. Two, you would've sat here on your superpowered laptop all night if I hadn't made him lock you out of the system. Three, if you try to hack anything to get access tonight, I'm breaking up with you."
"I wasn't even thinking about it! I just want to get to the bottom of this case," Tim mumbles.
"I know, Tim, and we both know you'll figure it out eventually. But you need a break. You look dead on your feet, and I've gotten texts from multiple people asking if you're ill or if something's wrong with you. Besides…is the idea of spending the next two nights with me so awful?"
You immediately wince at the pathetic phrasing, but it's hard not to feel as though you're being pushed aside for Tim's work. As much as you adore him and his brain and his drive, it hurts when it feels like he's constantly putting you on the back burner.
Tim reacts in a completely different way. It may have been kinder to slap him across the face if the wounded look in his eyes is anything to go by. "Have I really been making you feel that way?"
"No. Well, not no, but not yes—I don't know! I know you're busy. I just miss you. A lot," you mumble. Tim makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat and climbs onto the couch next to you, curling up next to you and smushing his face into your shoulder. "I never meant to make you feel like that."
"I know! I'm not upset at you. I just miss loving on you."
"I think I can work something into my schedule." Tim's response is muffled against your shoulder, and it makes you laugh into his hair.
"Mm, yeah? You want me to spoil you?" you tease him, letting your hand rub up and down his bicep.
"M'not opposed."
The coo that escapes you is entirely involuntary, and it's followed by a flurry of kisses that get smattered along the crown of Tim's head. It's entirely too easy to get swept up in the torrent of affection you carry for him. Truthfully, it'd probably eat you alive if you didn't get the chance to expel it every now and then. Each kiss you press to Tim's face and each caress of his skin loosens something in your chest that's been wound tight all night, and the affection seems to have a similar effect on Tim.
Well, maybe not entirely similar. He might as well be a puddle in your arms with the way his muscles have gone completely lax. You're the only person he implicitly trusts, the only person he instinctively and immediately tears his walls down around. So, to have you here, cradling him like he's something precious and giving him all the love he's never believed he's deserved, is enough to make his heart explode in his chest. His blue eyes, typically so sharp and perceptive, are lidded and dreamy, and he's muffling content sighs in the crook of your neck.
"I love you, Timmy. Every bit of you. Even the frustrating parts. Because no matter how much you may frustrate me, you also give me this part of you, and I love you for it."
"Hmm, you gotta stop, baby," he murmurs, slowly growing restless in your hold.
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Feels good."
"I fail to see how that's a problem."
"Too good." Tim shifts his hips, and you finally notice the growing problem between his legs.
"Ah." You brush his hair out of his face and glance down at him. "S'that all it takes to get you worked up, Timmy? Some sweet words, a few kisses, and getting petted?"
"Shut up," he grumbles. "Can't a guy like when his girlfriend's sweet to him?"
"You're cute." Slowly, you roll him onto his back and settle in at his side. Your head's on his chest now, and your hand's slowly trailing down the planes of his abs. "Just sit back for me, baby. I've got you."
Tim's all too happy to go pliant under your hand tonight; all the exhaustion of the past week has finally caught up with him, and he's content with living in it. He likes it, honestly, the way it blurs the edges of sensation until everything feels particularly fuzzy and beautiful. Though, he's quickly realizing that he much prefers exhaustion when he gets to experience it in your arms instead of on Gotham's seedy streets.
Tim lets out a sleepy moan when you palm him over his boxers. He hadn't even realized your hand had breached his waistband until you started tracing the shape of him through the thin fabric.
"Poor thing, you're already leaking. How long have you been hard?"
"Since you started playing with my hair."
You let out a quiet hum and let your hands do your talking for you. His sweats and boxers are finally pushed down just enough to let his cock spring free, and you waste no time, spitting into your hand and building up a slow pace. You stroke him nice and even, base to head, squeezing as you near his tip. The wet schlcks of your hand working him over are punctuated by Tim's shaky breaths and quiet whimpers that he tries to stifle by biting his lip.
"You deserve to feel good, Timothy. You deserve to feel loved and desired." Your words are whispered between soft kisses to his neck, and they only serve to make his cock twitch in your hand. Tim's always found it funny how he's supposed to be the detective between the two of you, but you always manage to figure out what he needs to hear. It's lovely and entirely disarming, and the softer you treat him, the more he breaks under your palms. Because Timothy Jackson Drake has never found himself to be deserving of affection, let alone affection as unbidden and unselfish as yours.
But if there's one thing he's discovered about himself through your relationship, it's that he wants it. God, he wants it so desperately. Love without expectation. Without accomplishment. Without him jumping through hoops or solving a case or saving the day. Love that's given when he comes crawling into your lap like a broken mess.
Love like you're giving him tonight.
That's the thought that finally sends him over the edge. The slick drag of your hand is heavenly, but it's not your hand that gets him there. It's you.
He ends up spilling over your hand in hot rivulets, hips bucking and soft moans parting his pretty lips. You wipe your hand off with a tissue from the box you keep on the coffee table and pull his pants back up for him. Tim's eyes remain shut for a few minutes, and they're glassy when he finally opens them.
"I know that loving me can be difficult. Really, I'm not sure how you put up with me, but thank you. Y'know how people say that you never realize what you're missing until you've had it? I've been feeling so off lately, and it took you doing all this for me to figure out why." Tim sighs and drags a hand down his face then looks at you with soft, blue eyes. "It was you. I missed you, and I didn't even realize it. I can barely function without you anymore. It scares me, honestly, but I'm so…happy I get to have you in the first place."
While the sudden vulnerability catches you off guard, it also makes something incredibly tender course through your veins. "You realize that I feel the exact same way about you, right? Being around you makes my days brighter, Timmy. I don't want you to ever forget that. I love you."
"I love you, too." Tim rolls onto his side again and holds you close to his chest. "And I promise I'll do better. Even if I have to put us time in a calendar."
"You’re my favorite nerd."
"Hey, I better be your only nerd, thank you very much."
That night, for the first time in a month, Tim Drake gets a full 8 hours of sleep, and you get to wake up against your boyfriend's chest.
all written work and dividers belong to @ackpplepie!! do not plagiarize, feed my work into ai, or translate it. i do not own the characters or images used above.
