(Btw this ࣪˖➹﹑is my cat) ࣪English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. Also I don’t write smut only fluff and a bit angst.
Feel free to send me ideas or suggestions by klicking this tired kitty ⟢ /ᐠ > ˕ <マ
Here is my c.ai cat ⟢ (•˕ •マ╮ᕤ
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Stories:
Aged up!Damian Wayne/ al ghul x fem!reader
M.Lists:
⛧ Tim Drake x Bernard Dowd x fem!reader ⛧
✦ Tim Drake x Mutant fem!reader ✦
✩Tim drake x cult fem!reader✩
༒︎ Aged up!Damian Wayne/al ghul x fem! Pet store!reader ༒︎
࿈ Aged up!Damian Wayne/al ghul x fem! Depressed! Reader ࿈
do any of you Ever get the feeling that your family prefers your siblings over you ? Like when I am just a few minutes short of a heatstroke and I (16) get like almost no reaction other than “go in the shade and coole your head.” But when my little brother (11) says he has a stomach ache my parents almost immediately let him stay home from school and drive him to the doctor but mr I just basically get told to tough it out and go to school and that it’s because of my “unhealthy” eating
Or he gets a toy car (almost 50 euro) from my uncle for his birthday while I get a 20 euro gift card (almost the same thing with other relatives) and like my Parents listen to him and stuff but not to me they care about his needs but always laugh when I explain my routines and stuff (I need routines to function and plan my day and otherwise I’m stressed, don’t know what to do and end up doing nothing)
or when we argue (mostly because he annoys me while I just am reading minding my own business and then after the tenth time of telling him to leave me alone I snap and kinda yell ) he get the right and I get punished or like he always corrects me but I’m not allowed to correct him when he does something wrong or something that affects my routine/ plan for the day
is it wrong to feel bad and am I wrong for going out of everyone’s way? Because the only person I could talk to is dead and even she was preferring my brother
⟣ Part eleven ✦ Series Masterlist ✦ Part thirteen ⟢
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
For about a month, things were peaceful.
Miraculously.
The family had finally stopped treating every mention of Tim’s girlfriend like an incoming meteor.
Mostly.
There were still occasional questions.
Jason still occasionally demanded brownie cookies.
Damian had developed a suspicious fondness for the tea at the cottage.
Barbara had become completely comfortable around you.
And everyone else had accepted that you would meet them when you were ready.
Tim, meanwhile, had settled into a strange little routine.
Sometimes you would visit him during patrol.
Sometimes he’d visit the cottage.
And sometimes—
You simply went on walks.
Which sounded incredibly mundane.
Except your walks happened at night.
Across Gotham’s rooftops.
And because you had absolutely no interest in obeying gravity, you and Tim would simply float across the gaps between buildings.
Tim would occasionally use his grapnel.
You would float beside him.
Tim would glare at you.
You would smile.
“Show-off.”
“You could float too.”
“I like my grapnel.”
“Of course you do.”
And then you’d keep walking.
It was peaceful.
Strangely peaceful.
Gotham below was still Gotham—sirens, traffic, neon signs, occasional criminals making extremely questionable life choices—but up there, it felt quieter.
You and Tim talked.
Sometimes about serious things.
Sometimes about books.
Sometimes about absolutely nothing.
And, inevitably, you fed Gotham’s stray cats.
There was one particular orange cat who had somehow decided Tim was its personal food dispenser.
Tonight was no different.
You crouched beside a rooftop ventilation unit, holding out pieces of chicken.
The orange cat approached cautiously.
Tim stood beside you, still in costume, arms folded.
“You’ve created a monster.”
The cat ignored him.
You smiled.
“He likes you.”
“He likes the food.”
“Same thing.”
Tim sighed.
Then crouched down.
The cat immediately walked over and rubbed against his leg.
Tim stared at it.
“…Traitor.”
You laughed.
The cat purred.
Then another cat appeared.
Then another.
Tim looked around.
“Where did all of these come from?”
You looked delighted.
“They heard there was food.”
“Great.”
You reached into the bag.
“More?”
Tim sighed.
“Of course.”
⸻
Several rooftops away—
Dick Grayson watched through binoculars.
He had absolutely no reason to be there.
None whatsoever.
He was simply patrolling.
In that exact area.
At that exact time.
On that exact rooftop.
For completely legitimate reasons.
Obviously.
He lowered the binoculars.
“…Okay.”
He’d seen you before.
Briefly.
But never like this.
Never without the chaos.
No reality-warping.
No cosmic portals.
No impossible displays of power.
Just you and Tim sitting on a rooftop feeding cats.
Dick smiled despite himself.
“That’s actually adorable.”
Then he heard a voice behind him.
“You’ve been watching them for five minutes.”
Dick froze.
Slowly turned.
You were standing behind him.
He looked at you.
You looked at him.
Then at the binoculars.
Then back at him.
“…Hi.”
Dick smiled awkwardly.
“Hi.”
A pause.
“You must be Dick.”
His eyebrows shot upward.
“You know who I am.”
“Tim talks about you.”
That made him grin.
“Good things?”
You smiled.
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“He’s your brother.”
Dick laughed.
“Fair.”
Tim finally noticed.
He looked across the rooftop.
Saw Dick.
Then saw the binoculars.
His expression became utterly flat.
“Dick.”
Dick lifted one hand.
“Tim.”
“What are you doing?”
“Patrolling.”
“With binoculars?”
“Advanced patrolling.”
Tim stared.
You giggled quietly.
Dick immediately looked at you.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“No, I definitely do.”
Tim walked over, hands on his hips.
“You followed us.”
“I was curious.”
“You’re nosy.”
“I’m your older brother. It’s my job.”
“That’s not a job.”
“It is in this family.”
Unfortunately, nobody could argue with that.
You stepped closer to Dick.
“It’s nice to finally meet you properly.”
Dick’s expression softened.
“Yeah.”
He looked at Tim.
Then back at you.
“I’ve wanted to.”
Tim groaned.
“I knew this was going to happen.”
Dick ignored him.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Hopefully nothing embarrassing.”
Dick glanced at Tim.
“Define embarrassing.”
Tim immediately pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
Dick laughed.
Then his attention shifted back to you.
“You really do take him on walks?”
You nodded.
“Sometimes.”
“During patrol?”
“Sometimes.”
“Floating?”
You nodded again.
Dick looked delighted.
“That’s incredible.”
Tim muttered, “It’s not that impressive.”
“You literally walk on rooftops with your reality-warping girlfriend while feeding stray cats.”
“…When you say it like that—”
“That’s exactly how it is.”
You laughed again.
Dick smiled.
And for the first time, he understood something the reports and recordings never could.
You weren’t some distant cosmic phenomenon.
You were simply someone who liked walking around Gotham with Tim.
Someone who noticed hungry cats.
Someone who laughed at stupid jokes.
Someone who had somehow made his perpetually exhausted little brother look peaceful.
Dick looked at Tim.
Then at you.
Then smiled.
“I think I like you.”
Tim groaned.
“Please don’t say that like you’re adopting her.”
Dick grinned.
“Too late.”
You smiled warmly.
The orange cat meowed.
Dick crouched down.
“Does this one have a name?”
You nodded.
“His name is Pancake.”
Dick stared at the cat.
Then at Tim.
“You named a stray cat Pancake?”
Tim shook his head.
“I didn’t name him.”
Dick looked at you.
“You did.”
“Yes.”
“Why Pancake?”
You shrugged.
“He looks like one.”
Dick considered the cat.
“…He kind of does.”
Tim looked between all three of them.
“You’ve been here thirty seconds.”
Dick smiled.
“And I’ve already met the cat.”
Pancake promptly climbed into Dick’s lap.
Dick looked down.
Then up.
“…I think I’ve been accepted.”
Tim sighed.
You laughed.
And somewhere across Gotham, another member of the Batfamily quietly lost the battle against your ability to make people feel comfortable around you.
Dick had come looking for the mysterious cosmic girlfriend.
Instead, he found his little brother floating across rooftops with her, feeding stray cats under the stars.
Honestly?
He preferred this version.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Summary: Reader went to the manor to get Tim’s headphones and meets two family members
Warnings: language?
⟣ Part ten ✦ Series Masterlist ✦ Part twelve ⟢
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The afternoon at Wayne Manor had been suspiciously peaceful.
Alfred Pennyworth was in the kitchen.
Cass and Jason were engaged in a chess match that had apparently become a matter of personal honor.
And, somewhere outside Gotham, Tim Drake was asleep at the cottage.
Very asleep.
Completely unavailable.
Mostly because he’d been trapped beneath the cosmic kitten.
The kitten had apparently decided Tim made an excellent mattress.
Tim had attempted to move.
The kitten had responded by becoming approximately three times heavier.
Tim had surrendered.
⸻
The front door of Wayne Manor opened.
Alfred looked up.
You stepped inside carrying a large container.
“Hello.”
Alfred smiled warmly.
“Good afternoon.”
You held out the container.
“I brought these.”
He accepted it politely.
He opened the lid.
Brownie cookies.
Still warm.
Alfred’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“These look rather lovely.”
“They’re for everyone.”
“How thoughtful.”
You glanced around.
“I actually came to pick up some things Tim left here.”
“Of course.”
Alfred gestured toward the manor.
“Would you like me to accompany you?”
You shook your head gently.
“I know where they are.”
Which was technically true.
You had been in the manor before.
Briefly.
And apparently your memory was significantly better than Tim’s because you knew exactly where he’d left his headphones.
“I’ll just grab them.”
“Very well.”
You disappeared down the hallway.
Alfred watched you go.
Then looked down at the cookies.
He smiled.
There was something rather charming about the fact that the most powerful person anyone had ever encountered had apparently decided her introduction to the family should involve baked goods.
⸻
Meanwhile, in the library—
Jason was contemplating the chessboard.
Cassandra sat opposite him.
Neither had spoken for several minutes.
Jason moved a piece.
Cass immediately looked at the board.
Then at him.
Jason grinned.
“Got you.”
Cass shook her head.
“No.”
Jason frowned.
“What?”
She pointed at the board.
“Trap.”
Jason looked again.
“…No.”
Cass gave him a tiny smile.
“Yes.”
Jason leaned closer.
“You can’t just say ‘trap.’”
Cass pointed again.
Jason stared.
Then slowly leaned back.
“Okay. That’s a pretty nasty trap.”
Cass smiled.
Victory was apparently approaching.
Then—
You walked through the library.
Neither of them paid much attention.
You were looking around for something.
“Sorry,” you said quietly.
Jason glanced up.
Cass did too.
You walked toward one of the side tables.
“Tim left his headphones here.”
Jason gestured vaguely.
“Drawer on the left.”
“Thank you.”
You opened the drawer.
Found the headphones.
Then paused.
Your eyes drifted toward the chessboard.
You looked at Jason.
Then Cass.
Then back at the board.
“Don’t move that rook.”
Jason blinked.
“What?”
You pointed casually.
“If you move the rook there, she’ll take your bishop, then you’ll have to move the queen, and she’ll have you in check in about three moves.”
Jason stared at you.
Cass stared at the board.
You picked up the headphones.
“Anyway.”
You smiled politely.
“Have fun.”
Then you walked out.
The door swung shut behind you.
Silence.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Jason looked at Cassandra.
Cassandra looked at Jason.
Jason slowly looked down at the chessboard.
Then back toward the door.
“…Who was that?”
Cass shrugged.
“No idea.”
Jason frowned.
“She just walked in.”
“Yes.”
“She knew the position.”
“Yes.”
“She predicted your moves.”
Cass nodded.
Jason stared at the door again.
Something wasn’t connecting.
Five minutes passed.
Then Jason’s eyes widened.
His mouth dropped open.
“Oh.”
Cass blinked.
Jason pointed toward the hallway.
“OH.”
Cass’s eyes widened.
She looked toward the door.
Then back at Jason.
“…Her.”
Jason practically whispered:
“That’s her.”
Cass’s expression transformed.
The quiet realization was immediate.
The mysterious girlfriend.
The reality-warping woman.
The person everyone had spent months talking about.
The woman who had casually erased an alien invasion.
The one who had apparently conquered Tim Drake through food, sleep, affection, and weaponized cuddles.
That was her.
Jason slowly put both hands on his head.
“We just met her.”
Cass nodded.
“We just met her.”
“And neither of us realized.”
Cass nodded again.
Jason stared at the chessboard.
Then suddenly looked horrified.
“She saw my move.”
Cass smiled.
“Yes.”
Jason looked personally offended.
“She corrected me.”
Cass’s smile widened.
“Yes.”
Jason leaned back in his chair.
“…She beat me without even playing.”
Cass considered that.
Then quietly:
“Funny.”
Jason pointed at her.
“Don’t.”
Cass laughed.
⸻
Five minutes later, Jason practically sprinted into the kitchen.
“ALFRED.”
Alfred calmly looked up from arranging the brownie cookies.
“Yes, Master Jason?”
“She was here.”
Alfred smiled.
“Yes.”
Jason froze.
“You knew?”
“Of course.”
“You knew that was her?”
“Yes.”
Jason stared at him.
Alfred adjusted the cookies neatly on a plate.
“She was kind enough to bring these.”
Jason looked at the brownies.
Then at Alfred.
Then toward the hallway.
“…And you just let her walk around?”
Alfred raised an eyebrow.
“She is Mr. Tim’s guest.”
Jason opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Fair.
Then Cassandra quietly appeared beside him.
She looked at the cookies.
Then at Alfred.
“Good.”
Alfred smiled.
“Indeed.”
Jason grabbed one.
Took a bite.
Stopped.
His eyes widened.
“…Okay.”
Cass took one too.
She chewed.
Looked at Jason.
Jason nodded slowly.
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
Jason looked toward the hallway.
“…We need to tell everyone.”
Cass nodded.
“Immediately.”
And somewhere in the woods, completely unaware that two members of the Batfamily had just experienced the world’s slowest realization, Tim remained asleep beneath a star-covered kitten.
The kitten purred.
Tim shifted deeper into the blankets.
And the headphones you had just retrieved appeared beside him in a tiny burst of starlight.
Because apparently even reality itself had decided that disturbing Tim’s nap was a punishable offense.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
So this is the series that you guys choose to continue and now the question is who reader should meet next
Summary: sadly Tim forgot to hide the footage and the justice league found it
Warnings: language? BB guns
⟣ Part one ✩ Series Masterlist ✩ Part three ⟢
༄↟𖠰⋆☽˚.✩‧₊𖠰ᨒ ོ ˚
The problem started because someone forgot to label the training footage.
Or more specifically—
Someone named Tim Drake forgot to label the training footage.
Which meant that when routine training recordings were uploaded into the Justice League database, they looked exactly like any other combat exercise.
Except one tiny detail.
The unidentified combatant.
⸻
It was a quiet afternoon in the Watchtower.
Dinah Lance sat reviewing reports while half-listening to a conversation nearby.
Then a combat analysis file popped onto her screen.
She clicked it absentmindedly.
At first she wasn’t paying attention.
Four heroes.
Forest environment.
Training simulation.
Pretty standard.
Then she noticed the opponent.
A woman.
No file attached.
No hero designation.
No League affiliation.
No metahuman registration.
Nothing.
Dinah frowned.
“Who the hell is that?”
⸻
The footage continued.
Bart disappeared first.
Dinah watched him get tagged three times before he even located the attacker.
Her eyebrows rose.
“Okay.”
She rewound.
Watched again.
Still couldn’t spot you.
⸻
Then Cassie.
Same result.
Eliminated.
Quickly.
Efficiently.
Without ever finding you.
Dinah sat forward.
Now she was interested.
⸻
By the time Conner’s footage rolled around, she had completely abandoned her paperwork.
The room was silent except for the recording.
Conner scanning.
Moving carefully.
Looking around.
Then—
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
You appeared.
Like a ghost.
One frame you weren’t there.
The next frame you were dropping from a tree directly onto him.
The knife hit his throat before he could react.
Dinah paused the footage.
Rewound.
Played it again.
Paused.
Rewound.
Played it again.
“…No.”
⸻
Five minutes later she was storming through the Watchtower.
⸻
The emergency meeting wasn’t technically an emergency meeting.
But it looked suspiciously like one.
Several League members had gathered around the conference table while footage played across the massive monitor.
The room grew progressively quieter.
Then progressively more concerned.
Then progressively alarmed.
⸻
“Wait.”
Barry Allen pointed at the screen.
“That’s Bart.”
“Yep.”
“He got taken out first?”
“Yep.”
“By a civilian?”
Dinah rubbed her forehead.
“Apparently.”
⸻
The footage rolled onward.
Everyone watched.
Nobody spoke.
⸻
Then Conner’s clip played.
Again.
Silence.
⸻
Finally someone cleared their throat.
“…How exactly is a civilian doing this?”
⸻
“She has no powers.”
Another pause.
“None?”
“None.”
⸻
The room exploded.
⸻
“Absolutely not.”
“That’s concerning.”
“Very concerning.”
“Did she receive military training?”
“Assassin training?”
“Government black ops?”
“Who is she?”
“How is she doing that?”
⸻
At the end of the table, Clark Kent looked especially disturbed.
Mostly because Conner had gotten folded like laundry.
⸻
Meanwhile Bruce was drinking coffee.
⸻
Everyone eventually noticed.
Because while the rest of the room was reacting like they’d discovered a security breach—
Bruce looked bored.
⸻
Dinah narrowed her eyes.
“You know who she is.”
Bruce took another sip.
“I do.”
⸻
The entire room turned toward him.
⸻
“You knew about this?”
“Yes.”
⸻
“You knew there was a civilian capable of doing that?”
“Yes.”
⸻
“You didn’t tell anyone?”
Bruce looked genuinely confused.
“You didn’t ask.”
⸻
Clark pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Bruce.”
⸻
Bruce set down his coffee.
“She’s Tim’s girlfriend.”
⸻
Silence.
⸻
“What.”
⸻
“Tim’s girlfriend.”
⸻
More silence.
⸻
Barry blinked.
“Tim’s girlfriend hunted Young Justice for sport?”
⸻
Bruce considered the wording.
“More or less.”
⸻
“WHY ARE YOU SO CALM ABOUT THIS?”
⸻
Bruce looked at the screen.
The footage had paused on the moment you appeared behind Conner.
⸻
Then he shrugged.
“I’ve met her.”
⸻
The League stared.
⸻
“You’ve met her?”
⸻
“Twice.”
⸻
“And?”
⸻
Bruce thought for a moment.
“She’s polite.”
⸻
Dinah nearly threw something at him.
⸻
“POLITE?”
⸻
Bruce nodded.
“Very polite.”
⸻
On-screen, you were currently pinning a Kryptonian to a tree.
⸻
“Bruce.”
Clark pointed at the footage.
“She’s terrifying.”
⸻
“Yes.”
⸻
“THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?”
⸻
Bruce leaned back.
“She’s never caused any problems.”
⸻
“Because she’s dating your son.”
⸻
Bruce didn’t even correct the statement.
Which was concerning in its own right.
⸻
The meeting dissolved into chaos.
⸻
Then another voice spoke up.
A calm voice.
⸻
Diana Prince had been watching the footage quietly the entire time.
Unlike everyone else, she wasn’t focused on the takedowns.
She was studying your movements.
Your posture.
Your reactions.
The way you disappeared into the environment.
⸻
Finally she spoke.
“She’s hunting.”
⸻
The room quieted.
⸻
Diana pointed at the screen.
“Look at her behavior.”
⸻
Everyone watched.
⸻
“She isn’t treating this as combat.”
⸻
The footage showed you moving through the forest.
Patient.
Silent.
Observing.
Waiting.
⸻
“She’s treating them as prey.”
Diana’s expression darkened slightly.
“And she’s enjoying herself.”
⸻
Nobody liked that observation.
Because it was accurate.
⸻
Then the footage reached the end.
The kitchen scene.
⸻
Everyone watched in silence.
⸻
You stood by the counter making hot chocolate.
Smiling.
Looking harmless.
⸻
Then Tim entered.
⸻
“Kitty!”
⸻
You immediately wrapped yourself around him.
⸻
The entire League watched the terrifying forest predator transform into the world’s most affectionate girlfriend in under three seconds.
⸻
“…”
⸻
“…”
⸻
“…”
⸻
Barry finally broke.
“I hate this.”
⸻
“Why?” Clark asked.
⸻
“Because it makes no sense.”
⸻
On-screen, you were currently trying to steal Tim’s marshmallows.
⸻
“This is the same person.”
⸻
“Apparently.”
⸻
“The one who nearly gave Conner a heart attack.”
⸻
“Apparently.”
⸻
The footage ended.
⸻
Silence filled the conference room.
⸻
Then Bruce stood up.
⸻
The League looked at him.
⸻
“That’s it?” Dinah asked.
⸻
Bruce collected his coffee.
⸻
“She’s harmless.”
⸻
Across the table, several people made sounds of outrage.
⸻
Bruce paused.
Then amended:
“Mostly harmless.”
⸻
That statement somehow made everyone feel worse.
༄↟𖠰⋆☽˚.✩‧₊𖠰ᨒ ོ ˚
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
ᯓ➤Tim lets his girlfriend hunt his team and it takes a surprising turn for them
✩ Part two
ᯓ➤sadly Tim forgot to hide the footage and the justice league found it
✩ Part three
✩ Part …
༄↟𖠰⋆☽˚.✩‧₊𖠰ᨒ ོ ˚
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Summary: Tim lets his girlfriend hunt his team and it takes a surprising turn for them
Warnings: language? BB guns
✩ Series Masterlist ✩ Part two ⟢
༄↟𖠰⋆☽˚.✩‧₊𖠰ᨒ ོ ˚
The first time Tim told them the training idea, they thought it was a joke.
Seriously, hunted by Tim’s stay-at-home girlfriend?
Cassie nearly choked on her drink laughing.
“Tim, no offense, but that’s ridiculous.”
“Lots of offense taken,” Tim replied.
Bart grinned. “Dude, I can run faster than sound.”
Conner folded his arms. “And I’m Kryptonian.”
“Mmhm.”
Tim’s complete lack of concern should have been a warning.
It wasn’t.
⸻
The training hall’s artificial forest stretched for acres beneath the mountain. Trees, brush, uneven terrain, streams, rocky outcroppings—everything designed to simulate a real wilderness environment.
Tim stood at the starting point while the four members of Young Justice gathered around him.
Their usual weapons had been swapped out for BB equivalents.
“No flying above the canopy,” Tim told Conner.
Conner scoffed.
“No speed-force cheating.”
Bart groaned dramatically.
“Ten minute head start.”
Cassie cracked her knuckles.
“And Y/N?”
Tim smiled.
The smile alone should have sent them running.
“Good luck.”
⸻
Ten minutes later they were deep in the forest.
Nothing.
No sounds.
No movement.
No sign of you.
“See?” Bart said. “We’re totally fi—”
Pop.
A BB smacked directly into his forehead.
“OW!”
A second hit him in the shoulder.
Then a third.
Bart spun around.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
The forest remained silent.
Then—
Laughter.
Bright.
Delighted.
Somewhere in the darkness.
Bart felt every hair on his arms stand up.
“NOPE.”
He took off running.
⸻
Five minutes later Cassie found him sitting beside the elimination zone.
“You too?”
Bart pointed accusingly at the forest.
“She’s in there.”
“Obviously.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
Cassie rolled her eyes.
Then she got shot in the back of the head.
The BB bounced off harmlessly.
She froze.
Bart started laughing.
Cassie slowly turned around.
Nobody.
Nothing.
Just trees.
And then—
That same laughter.
Closer this time.
A gleeful, excited sound.
Cassie suddenly understood exactly what Bart meant.
⸻
Conner lasted the longest.
Mostly because he was cheating.
“She’s behind that tree,” he said confidently.
The tree was empty.
“Okay.”
He scanned again.
Nothing.
No heartbeat.
No footsteps.
No movement.
Nothing.
For someone without powers, you were impossible to track.
The forest seemed to swallow you whole.
Conner moved forward cautiously.
A branch snapped somewhere behind him.
He turned.
Nothing.
Another sound.
To the left.
Nothing.
A flicker of movement.
To the right.
Conner lunged—
And suddenly a shape dropped from above.
You hit him before he could react.
One second the tree branch had been empty.
The next you were there.
Wild grin.
Eyes shining with excitement.
The impact drove him backward against a trunk.
Before he could move, a training blade was pressed lightly against his throat.
Your body was tense.
Balanced.
Perfectly still.
Like a predator deciding whether to pounce.
Conner forgot how to breathe.
For a split second all he could focus on was your expression.
Then you smiled.
“Gotcha.”
The blade disappeared.
You skipped backward.
Laughing.
And vanished into the darkness.
Conner remained frozen against the tree.
“…Holy crap.”
⸻
Tim found them all twenty minutes later.
Defeated.
Exhausted.
Slightly traumatized.
Cassie pointed at him.
“You knew.”
“I did.”
“You absolutely knew.”
“I did.”
Conner still looked disturbed.
“She dropped out of a tree.”
Tim nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Like she wasn’t even there.”
“That’s generally how stealth works.”
Bart threw a pinecone at him.
Tim dodged without looking.
⸻
The tower kitchen smelled like chocolate.
The four heroes shuffled inside after showering and changing clothes.
They expected to find a terrifying huntress sharpening knives or cleaning gear.
Instead—
You were standing by the counter stirring mugs of hot chocolate.
You looked up.
“Oh! You’re back!”
The smile you gave them was completely normal.
Warm.
Friendly.
Sweet.
Conner stared.
Cassie stared.
Bart stared.
Tim walked straight past them.
You immediately brightened.
“Kitty!”
Tim barely got a chance to set down his staff before you wrapped your arms around him.
You nuzzled your nose against his.
Tim’s expression softened instantly.
“Hey.”
The room went silent.
Because this—
This couldn’t possibly be the same person.
Not the monster from the woods.
Not the thing that appeared out of shadows and vanished into darkness.
Not the person who laughed while hunting them.
You handed everyone mugs.
“Extra marshmallows.”
“Thanks,” Cassie said automatically.
You smiled.
Then wandered back to Tim’s side.
Tim slid an arm around your waist.
You leaned into him happily.
Conner looked between the two of you.
Then at Tim.
Then back at you.
“How are you real?”
You blinked.
“What?”
“You pinned me to a tree.”
“Oh.”
You looked thoughtful.
“Sorry?”
“You sounded way too happy about it.”
“I was having fun.”
Conner pointed emphatically.
“THAT IS THE PROBLEM.”
Bart nodded.
“She’s got a point.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Yes, you do,” Cassie said.
You looked genuinely confused.
Tim took a sip of hot chocolate.
Completely unbothered.
“They’ll get used to it.”
“We are not getting used to it,” Conner said.
Tim glanced at him.
“You will.”
The four of them exchanged looks.
Then they looked at you.
Curled against Tim’s side.
Holding a mug of hot chocolate.
Looking perfectly harmless.
And somehow that was even scarier than the hunt.
༄↟𖠰⋆☽˚.✩‧₊𖠰ᨒ ོ ˚
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Summary: Tim returns to work and reader gets him and babs some lunch
Warnings: language?
⟣ Part nine ✦ Series Masterlist ✦ Part eleven ⟢
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Tim Drake’s return to active duty was met with universal skepticism.
Not because he couldn’t do the job.
Because he looked healthy.
Which was somehow more alarming.
Jason Todd had stared at him for a full minute before finally asking:
“Who are you and what have you done with Tim?”
Tim had responded by throwing a stapler at him.
Unfortunately, Jason had a point.
Tim was sleeping.
Eating.
Drinking water voluntarily.
His caffeine intake had dropped from “medical concern” to merely “concerning.”
Something had clearly happened.
The family blamed you.
Tim considered that a compliment.
⸻
Three weeks later.
The Belfry.
Barbara Gordon was working.
The clock on her screen read 2:17 PM.
Three active investigations.
Two cyberattacks.
One attempted weapons deal.
And Tim.
Tim was currently sitting at another workstation three desks away.
Looking focused.
Looking productive.
Looking—
Barbara narrowed her eyes.
Looking like he hadn’t eaten lunch.
Again.
She opened her mouth.
The windows all slid open simultaneously.
Fresh air rushed through the room.
Sunlight poured inside.
The stale atmosphere vanished instantly.
Barbara blinked.
“…What.”
A familiar portal made of drifting stars unfolded nearby.
Tim immediately relaxed.
Like physically relaxed.
Barbara actually watched it happen.
The tension left his shoulders before you’d even stepped through.
Fascinating.
You emerged carrying a large box.
And a drink.
And another box.
Tim smiled.
The genuine kind.
The rare kind.
The kind Barbara had only seen a handful of times over the years.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
You walked over immediately.
Then stopped.
Your attention shifted toward Barbara.
For a second.
Then your face brightened.
“Oh.”
Barbara suddenly felt like she was being evaluated.
Not in a threatening way.
In a “meeting your boyfriend’s sister” way.
Somehow more intimidating.
“You must be Barbara.”
Barbara blinked.
“…You know who I am.”
“Of course.”
That somehow wasn’t reassuring.
You smiled warmly.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Then before Barbara could respond—
You handed her a food container.
Barbara stared.
“…What’s this?”
“Lunch.”
Silence.
Barbara looked at the container.
Then at you.
Then back at the container.
“Why?”
You looked confused by the question.
“First impressions are important.”
Barbara actually laughed.
A little.
Because somehow that was the least insane thing she’d heard all month.
⸻
Meanwhile.
Tim had already abandoned productivity.
You sat down in his chair.
Then immediately pulled him down with you.
Barbara watched in fascination.
Because Tim did not resist.
Not even slightly.
You settled comfortably.
Tim wrapped his arms around your waist automatically.
Then rested his face against your back.
Like a giant sleepy cat.
Again.
Barbara had heard stories.
The stories had not adequately prepared her.
Tim nuzzled slightly against your shoulder blade.
Barbara looked away.
Then looked back.
Just to make sure she’d actually seen that.
Unfortunately.
She had.
You didn’t seem surprised.
You simply opened the food container.
Inside sat fresh steak.
Mashed potatoes.
Green beans.
And enough nutritional value to make Alfred proud.
Tim immediately spotted it.
“…Steak.”
“You need iron.”
“I have iron.”
“You fainted three weeks ago.”
“I stood up too fast.”
“You stood up.”
Barbara choked on her drink.
Tim looked betrayed.
You ignored him.
A fork floated upward.
Tim immediately sighed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I can feed myself.”
“You worked through lunch.”
“I was busy.”
“You forgot lunch existed.”
Barbara watched this entire interaction with growing amusement.
Because Tim Drake.
Master strategist.
Crime-solving machine.
Was being gently but thoroughly defeated.
By concern.
Tim accepted the fork eventually.
Which really told Barbara everything she needed to know.
⸻
Half an hour later.
The investigation board had gained useful insights.
Several cases were progressing.
Tim had eaten.
Barbara had eaten.
The room smelled significantly better.
And the open windows remained a blessing.
“You know,” Barbara said eventually, looking toward you from her workstation, “you’re not what I expected.”
You looked up.
“Good or bad?”
“Good.”
Barbara smiled slightly.
“Everyone’s been preparing for some terrifying cosmic mystery.”
Tim snorted.
You tilted your head.
“I am a terrifying cosmic mystery.”
“Fair.”
“Just also one that carries snacks.”
“Also fair.”
Barbara laughed.
There it was.
The thing she’d been trying to figure out.
The thing Tim never seemed able to explain properly.
It wasn’t that you were harmless.
You absolutely weren’t.
If every report was accurate, you were probably one of the most powerful beings anyone had ever encountered.
But power wasn’t what defined your presence.
It wasn’t even the first thing people noticed once they actually met you.
The first thing people noticed was kindness.
And somehow that made everything weirder.
⸻
A little later, as the afternoon drifted onward, Barbara glanced toward the pair of you again.
Tim was reviewing files.
Actually reviewing them.
Not doom-spiraling through six unrelated investigations.
You sat comfortably in his lap reading your own book.
One hand absentmindedly running through his hair.
Tim looked absurdly content.
Barbara immediately opened the family group chat.
A terrible decision.
Barbara: Met her.
The response was instantaneous.
Dick: ??????
Stephanie: HOW
Jason: TELL ME EVERYTHING
Duke: REPORT
Damian: Begin.
Barbara smirked.
Then typed:
Barbara: She brought me lunch.
Silence.
Three seconds.
Five.
Then—
Stephanie: SHE BROUGHT YOU LUNCH???
Dick: SHE LIKES YOU
Jason: FAVORITISM
Duke: THIS ISN’T FAIR
Damian: Explain further.
Barbara added another message.
Barbara: Also she force-fed Tim steak.
The chat exploded.
Again.
⸻
Across the room, Tim’s phone buzzed.
And buzzed.
And buzzed.
He glanced down once.
Saw fifty-seven unread messages.
Then calmly flipped the phone over.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
You looked up from your book.
“Everything okay?”
Tim leaned back slightly into your touch.
“Yeah.”
The phone buzzed again.
And again.
And again.
Barbara was visibly enjoying herself now.
Tim pointed accusingly.
“You told them.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You absolutely told them.”
Barbara smiled innocently.
A dangerous sight.
“You said you wanted to meet the family one person at a time.”
Tim groaned immediately.
Because that meant—
Eventually—
Dick.
Jason.
Stephanie.
Duke.
Cassandra.
Damian again.
Maybe even Bruce.
The realization visibly hit him.
You noticed.
Then gently kissed the side of his head.
“It’ll be fine.”
Tim buried his face into your shoulder.
The universal gesture for I don’t believe you but I appreciate the effort.
Barbara watched the exchange.
Smiled.
And sent one final message to the group chat.
Barbara: You’re all doomed. She already has cookies ready.
The resulting chaos could probably be heard from space.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Ok you’re definitely not gonna believe this but it’s 100% true.
I was reading your series w/ Damian (super good by the way I love it) like it was the last thing I read before bed last night
Then today, a stray cat ran to me from across the street for no reason and tried to go home with me. A bird sat on my chair at a cafe. And then an actual live wild bunny was crossing the road (blind with sickness) and just let me pick it up, sat on my lap all tame even though it was definitely wild, and let me take it home to clean it up before letting it free in an area near my house with wild rabbits
Is this the craziest coincidence EVER or is your fic enchanted or something?!! Is this a Teen Beach Movie situation or what?!
awww that is so cute and like I definitely need spells and stuff to post that because my internet connection that day was shhhhhiiiit like girl why do schools always have the worst internet? So like I know I should be studying because my first final is next week but I just can’t you know like when you want to do something but you know you can’t do that and then you’re just paralysed somehow ? And then you’re sitting there and start crying because you feel bad because you can’t pit and you’re useless? If you get you get it
anyway this is me rn because someone actually messaged me and told me the story is good
I just posted the first chapter of the story that I’m writing on. It’s not a fanfic more like just an idea I had and the story I built around that or more like the story that I’m building. and it eventually Wlw so If you don’t like that kindly go away because no one Is forcing you to read this and no one needs hate comments
Which was embarrassing because Dick’s entire personality was being underestimated right before causing problems.
⸻
Three days later, Dick found himself standing outside the pet store with Haley sitting patiently beside him.
The three-legged pitbull wore a bright purple bandana.
Dick swore she looked smug.
“You know this is reconnaissance, right?” he told her.
Haley wagged.
“Not a social visit.”
More wagging.
“Absolutely not because everyone wants to know why Damian keeps thinking about a random girl.”
Haley sneezed.
Dick sighed.
“You’re useless.”
The dog disagreed.
⸻
Inside, you were kneeling on the floor near the adoption area.
A clipboard rested beside you.
A tiny three-legged kitten was currently tucked inside the neckline of your hoodie, peeking out comfortably while you sorted paperwork.
The kitten looked completely satisfied with its life choices.
You didn’t seem bothered by this arrangement at all.
Dick noticed that before anything else.
Normal people didn’t sit on shelter floors organizing files while a kitten treated them like a portable apartment.
Then again, you weren’t exactly normal.
Not that he knew why.
Just…
Different.
Gentle.
The kind of gentle that couldn’t be faked.
The bell over the door chimed.
“Welcome in,” you called automatically without looking up.
Haley froze.
Then immediately dragged Dick across the store.
“Damn it,” Dick muttered.
The pitbull practically power-walked toward you.
You finally looked up.
“Oh!”
Your face brightened instantly.
Not because of Dick.
Because of Haley.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Dick watched Haley absolutely melt.
The dog reached you and immediately pressed her head against your shoulder.
The traitorous beast looked one tail wag away from filing adoption paperwork.
You laughed softly and scratched behind Haley’s ears.
“Oh my goodness.”
More tail wagging.
“You’re adorable.”
Dick blinked.
Because Haley wasn’t usually adorable.
Haley was a seventy-pound tank who occasionally forgot she only had three legs and attempted parkour.
Yet here she was acting like a puppy.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
You glanced up.
“Oh, sorry. Did you need help finding something?”
Dick nearly laughed.
No recognition whatsoever.
None.
Not Nightwing.
Not billionaire Bruce Wayne’s eldest son.
Nothing.
Just another customer.
It was honestly refreshing.
“A few things,” Dick answered.
“Dog supplies?”
You looked at Haley.
Then at the basket in his hand.
Then back at Haley.
“Definitely dog supplies.”
Dick grinned.
“That obvious?”
“A little.”
The kitten chose that moment to stick its tiny head farther out of your hoodie.
Dick stared.
The kitten stared back.
“Is that cat living in your shirt?”
You looked down.
“Oh.”
The kitten blinked innocently.
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“She’s recovering.”
“Inside your hoodie?”
“She likes it there.”
Dick laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Okay.
Now he understood why Damian found you interesting.
Most people reacted to the Wayne family.
You reacted to animals.
Entirely different thing.
⸻
Twenty minutes later Dick was still there.
Not because he needed supplies.
Because he was observing.
For science.
Definitely science.
You were helping an elderly customer pick cat food.
Then comforting a nervous rescue dog.
Then answering questions about bird care.
Every animal in the building seemed magnetically drawn to you.
Including Haley.
Especially Haley.
The pitbull had abandoned Dick completely.
She now sat beside you like a furry bodyguard.
“Wow,” Dick said.
You looked over.
“What?”
“I think my dog likes you more than me.”
Haley leaned harder against you.
“Aw.”
“See? That’s hurtful.”
You smiled.
“You’ll survive.”
Probably.
Maybe.
⸻
An hour later Dick finally headed home.
Haley looked genuinely offended about leaving.
The dog spent the entire car ride staring out the window like she’d been separated from her soulmate.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Haley ignored him.
⸻
Wayne Manor
8:17 PM
Dick walked into the kitchen.
Immediately every head turned.
Like sharks smelling blood.
Jason nearly fell off a chair.
“Well?”
Steph pointed dramatically.
“Report.”
Tim closed his laptop.
Cass looked curious.
Barbara’s voice came through the speakers.
Even Bruce was present.
Dick didn’t miss Damian immediately pretending not to listen.
The effort was impressive.
The success was not.
Dick sat down slowly.
“Oh.”
Everyone leaned forward.
“Oh?”
Dick grinned.
“Now I get it.”
Damian froze.
Jason pointed.
“HE SAID THE THING.”
Steph gasped.
“HE SAID THE THING.”
Dick ignored them.
“She’s nice.”
Damian looked away.
“Groundbreaking observation.”
“No seriously.”
Dick laughed.
“She’s genuinely nice.”
Silence.
That got everyone’s attention.
Because Dick rarely said things like that.
“Animals love her,” he continued.
“Haley fell in love immediately.”
Damian muttered something under his breath.
Dick definitely heard “traitor.”
“She carries injured animals around like it’s completely normal.”
“She brought a rabbit to campus,” Duke contributed.
“See?”
Dick pointed.
“Exactly.”
Steph grinned.
“Oh, he’s doomed.”
Damian looked horrified.
“I’m not doomed.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Barbara laughed through the speakers.
“What was she like?”
Dick considered.
Then smiled.
“Lonely.”
The room quieted.
Damian’s eyes lifted immediately.
Dick noticed.
So did everyone else.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
“She doesn’t seem to realize it,” Dick continued. “But she looked lonely.”
For some reason that made Damian’s jaw tighten.
Just slightly.
Only his family would notice.
Unfortunately for him—
His family noticed everything.
Jason smirked.
“Oh, you’re definitely doomed.”
Damian stood.
“I’m leaving.”
Steph pointed after him.
“That’s confirmation!”
The kitchen erupted into chaos.
Upstairs, Damian closed his bedroom door and stared at the ceiling.
Downstairs, his siblings continued discussing you.
And across Gotham—
You sat in your apartment studying neuroscience notes with a three-legged kitten asleep in your lap.
Completely unaware that you had somehow become the most discussed person in Wayne Manor.
⋆⁺₊⋆———⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰———⋆⁺₊⋆
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Summary: sadly it was the responsible thing to do and wake reader so they could get out and talk to Clark
Warnings: language?
⟣ Part eight ✦ Series Masterlist ✦ Part ten ⟢
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Eventually, even Tim Drake had to admit defeat.
The cuddle nest had been compromised.
The moment Bart Allen had breached the perimeter, the peace level had dropped by approximately ninety-seven percent.
There were now conversations happening.
Questions.
Arguments about pillow ownership.
At one point Bart had somehow convinced the space cat to sit on his head.
The cat seemed as confused by this as everyone else.
Tim opened one eye.
Then another.
Then sighed the sigh of a man accepting fate.
“Okay.”
Bart grinned.
“You love me.”
“No.”
“You tolerate me.”
“No.”
“You acknowledge my existence.”
Tim pointed.
“That’s enough.”
Bart looked delighted.
Unfortunately.
Tim carefully sat up, disentangling himself from blankets and cosmic nonsense.
Then gently nudged your shoulder.
“Hey.”
You made a sleepy noise.
The star curtain dimmed slightly.
The cat lifted its head.
Tim smiled despite himself.
“Clark’s here.”
A pause.
Another sleepy noise.
“Okay.”
“Think we should say hi.”
“…Five more minutes.”
Tim considered.
Then looked at the rest of Young Justice.
Then at Superman.
Then at Bart trying to wear the space cat like a scarf.
“…Actually no, fair point.”
A minute later, however, you finally blinked awake enough to sit up.
The cosmic curtain dissolved into drifting stars.
The mattress vanished.
Half the pillows disappeared into little bursts of starlight.
The remaining pillows simply gave up on existence.
Clark watched all of this happen.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it.
⸻
About fifteen minutes later everyone was gathered properly in the common room.
No blanket nest.
No cosmic curtain.
No pillow fort.
Just conversation.
Well.
Relatively normal conversation.
Clark found you surprisingly easy to talk to.
Which somehow made everything stranger.
Because this was supposed to be the mysterious reality-warping entity that had every scientist on Earth stress-eating.
Instead—
You were asking Conner about his week.
Listening to Cassie’s story about a mission.
Politely refusing to let Tim have another coffee.
Normal.
Dangerously normal.
Clark found himself relaxing.
Then, somehow, the topic of secret identities came up.
A mistake.
A terrible mistake.
Because you immediately turned toward him.
“Can I ask something?”
“Sure.”
You tilted your head.
Genuinely curious.
“You do know the glasses don’t actually work, right?”
Silence.
Clark blinked.
“What?”
“The disguise.”
“…My disguise?”
“Yeah.”
You pointed at his face.
“The glasses.”
Conner immediately looked interested.
Bart nearly choked.
Clark laughed nervously.
“What do you mean?”
You looked completely sincere.
“You’re still obviously Clark.”
The room exploded.
Bart fell off the couch.
Cassie made a strangled noise.
Conner was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.
Clark felt twenty years of confidence evaporate.
“But—”
“The posture change helps.”
“What?”
“And the different mannerisms.”
“What?”
“The glasses don’t do much though.”
“What?!”
You looked concerned now.
“Oh.”
Clark already hated that “oh.”
“…Oh?”
“I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I?”
Conner physically slid off his chair.
Bart was now crying.
Tim had hidden his face behind a book and was refusing to help.
Traitor.
Absolute traitor.
⸻
An hour later, after much suffering on Clark’s part and much amusement on everyone else’s, things settled down.
You and Tim eventually retreated toward his room.
Tim carrying books.
You carrying snacks.
A completely normal couple activity.
As you disappeared down the hallway, Clark caught one last glimpse of Tim immediately leaning into your side.
Tim caught him looking.
Then pointedly shut the door.
Message received.
⸻
Several hours later—
The Watchtower.
Justice League briefing room.
Clark had returned.
The meeting was technically about unrelated matters.
Technically.
Unfortunately.
The existence of Tim’s girlfriend remained the most interesting topic in the room.
“So?” Barry asked immediately.
“You met her?”
Clark smiled slightly.
“I did.”
Half the room looked up.
Batman looked up too.
Which was much rarer.
“Well?” Hal pressed.
Clark sat down.
“She was nice.”
Batman narrowed his eyes.
That wasn’t enough information.
Clark continued.
“Very nice, actually.”
Diana looked curious.
“And?”
Clark smiled.
“And honestly… she seems exactly like Tim described.”
That got attention.
Because nobody believed Tim’s descriptions.
Not really.
Not when they involved phrases like she’s just quiet and she mostly drinks tea.
Not after watching her casually overwrite reality.
Clark shrugged.
“She genuinely seems more interested in making sure Tim eats and sleeps than doing anything with her powers.”
Barry pointed dramatically.
“I KNEW IT.”
Bruce remained suspicious.
Naturally.
Then Conner entered.
A terrible development.
Because Conner possessed information.
And lacked restraint.
“Oh,” Conner said casually. “Did you tell them about the glasses thing?”
Clark closed his eyes.
Across the table, Diana looked interested.
Barry immediately sat up straighter.
Hal grinned.
Batman slowly looked toward Clark.
“Glasses thing?”
Clark considered fleeing.
⸻
Unfortunately.
Someone else was present.
Barbara Gordon.
Who had been quietly working nearby.
Listening.
Like the information predator she was.
The moment she heard the story—
Her phone appeared.
The Batfamily group chat opened.
And she typed.
Oracle: Clark met her.
Three seconds.
Nothing.
Then:
Nightwing: ????
Spoiler: WHAT
Red Hood: EXCUSE ME
Signal: THE SUPERMAN???
Robin: Explain.
Barbara smiled.
And continued typing.
Oracle: They talked for over an hour.
The group chat exploded.
Messages flew by so fast they blurred.
Nightwing: HE GOT TO MEET HER BEFORE US???
Red Hood: THIS IS FAVORITISM
Spoiler: TIM HAS BEEN HIDING HER FOR MONTHS
Signal: HOW DID CLARK UNLOCK THIS ACHIEVEMENT
Robin: Unacceptable.
Barbara added one final message.
Oracle: She also told Clark the glasses don’t work.
Silence.
A beat.
Then:
Nightwing: SHE WHAT
Red Hood: OH MY GOD
Spoiler: SHE SAID IT
Signal: SHE ACTUALLY SAID IT
Robin: Finally. Someone had the courage.
Barbara laughed.
Across the room, Bruce’s phone vibrated.
Then again.
And again.
And again.
He looked at it once.
Saw the rapidly imploding family group chat.
Closed it immediately.
No.
Absolutely not.
He was not dealing with that tonight.
Meanwhile, far away at Mount Justice, Tim sat on his bed reading while you leaned comfortably against his shoulder.
Peaceful.
Quiet.
The way he liked it.
His phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Then continuously.
Tim looked down.
The Batfamily group chat had accumulated eighty-seven messages in under two minutes.
He stared at it.
Then calmly turned his phone off.
You glanced up from your book.
“Everything okay?”
Tim immediately settled back against you.
“Perfect.”
And somewhere in Gotham, eight members of the Batfamily simultaneously became even more determined to meet the girl responsible for all of this.
Which could only end well.
Probably.
Maybe.
The odds were, admittedly, not encouraging.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
» Damian’s endless love for you so he writes and you keep everything you gives you and he mistakes it as rejection
࿈…
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆ ࿈ ⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Summary: the story I made out of this _࿈_ or Damian’s endless love for you so he writes and you keep everything you gives you and he mistakes it as rejection
Warnings: past Ed mention , SH scars , Hurt/no comfort
࿈ Masterlist ࿈ Part two »
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆ ࿈ ⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃
Damian Wayne had never been good with words.
Not spoken ones, anyway.
Words on paper were different.
Paper didn’t stare back at him. It didn’t interrupt him. It didn’t force him to expose pieces of himself before he was ready.
So he wrote.
He wrote late at night at his desk with Titus sprawled across his feet.
He wrote in the barn while Bat-Cow chewed lazily nearby.
He wrote sitting cross-legged in the hay with Alfred the cat in his lap, reading entire paragraphs aloud.
“What do you think?” he would ask seriously.
The cat would blink.
“I agree.”
And then he would continue writing.
Most of the letters were about you.
Not in a dramatic way.
Just observations.
The way you tucked your hands into your sleeves.
The way your eyes softened whenever you looked at animals.
The way you always listened when other people spoke but never seemed to think anyone would want to hear you.
The way you smiled when you forgot someone was looking.
Damian noticed everything.
He always had.
And when he finally gathered enough courage, he started giving the letters to you.
Sometimes they came folded neatly.
Sometimes they were tucked inside books.
Sometimes they arrived alongside small gifts.
A silver necklace.
A fountain pen.
A pressed flower sealed between sheets of clear plastic.
A sketch of you reading.
A sketch of you laughing.
A sketch of you smiling at something outside the frame.
Every gift came with another letter.
Every letter carried pieces of him that nobody else got to see.
And every single one ended up in a wooden box beneath your bed.
Because you couldn’t throw them away.
Couldn’t display them either.
People didn’t do things like this for you.
Not really.
Not without wanting something.
Not without laughing later.
Not without eventually deciding you weren’t worth the effort.
So you stored everything carefully.
Protected it.
Preserved it.
Because one day he would want it all back.
Obviously.
Why wouldn’t he?
Eventually he’d find someone prettier.
Someone more confident.
Someone easier.
Someone who wasn’t constantly fighting the thoughts in her own head.
Someone who deserved him.
The box existed for when that happened.
Not if.
When.
⸻
Whenever things got bad, you would pull the box from beneath your bed.
Usually at night.
Usually when the familiar urge started crawling beneath your skin.
The urge to hurt yourself.
The urge to make everything stop for just a moment.
You’d sit on the floor and open the lid.
Letters.
Sketches.
Tiny gifts wrapped in tissue paper.
Evidence that someone had cared.
Even if you couldn’t understand why.
Sometimes you’d spend hours rereading them.
Reading the same lines over and over until the thoughts quieted.
Until you could breathe again.
Until you could convince yourself to survive one more night.
⸻
Then one day the letters stopped.
No warning.
No explanation.
Nothing.
One week passed.
Then two.
Then three.
No folded pages slipped into your books.
No awkward gifts appeared in your locker.
No sketches.
No notes.
Nothing.
You noticed immediately.
Of course you did.
But you didn’t ask.
Because asking would only confirm what you already knew.
He’d gotten bored.
He’d found someone better.
Finally realized he could do better than you.
It made sense.
Honestly, you were surprised it had taken this long.
Meanwhile, Damian was suffering through an entirely different nightmare.
Because he never saw you wearing the necklace.
Never saw you using the pen around him.
Never saw any sign that you kept the things he gave you.
And suddenly he realized something awful.
You hated them.
No.
Worse.
You hated receiving them from him.
The realization hit him like a punch.
Because if you had liked any of it—
Wouldn’t you wear the necklace?
Wouldn’t you use the pen?
Wouldn’t you mention the sketches?
Anything?
Instead you accepted everything politely and then—
Nothing.
Damian had spent weeks agonizing over the possibility before finally forcing himself to stop.
If you didn’t want his affection, then continuing would only make you uncomfortable.
So he stopped writing.
Stopped sketching.
Stopped leaving gifts.
And tried very hard not to think about how much it hurt.
⸻
You sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor.
The wooden box rested open beside you.
Tears blurred your vision.
The necklace glimmered softly beneath your lamp.
You picked it up carefully.
Polished it.
Wrapped it neatly.
Set it aside.
Then another gift.
And another.
And another.
Everything had to be perfect.
If Damian wanted everything back, you weren’t going to give him damaged goods.
Your hands shook as you sorted the letters into piles.
The oldest first.
Then the newer ones.
Chronological.
Neat.
Orderly.
Like none of it mattered.
Like every page hadn’t become something precious.
A tear splashed onto the paper.
You froze.
No.
No no no.
You wiped at it desperately.
The stain spread.
Another tear followed.
Then another.
Suddenly you couldn’t breathe.
Because this wasn’t supposed to hurt.
You had known this would happen.
Had prepared for this.
Had expected it.
So why did it feel like someone was tearing something out of your chest?
A sob escaped before you could stop it.
Then another.
And another.
Soon you were crying so hard you couldn’t see.
Letters scattered across the floor.
The necklace slipped from your fingers.
Your shoulders shook violently.
“He found someone better,” you whispered to yourself.
The words tasted like glass.
“Of course he did.”
Eventually the crying stopped.
Not because you felt better.
Because you were exhausted.
Your eyes drifted downward.
Tear stains marked several pages.
Ruined.
You ruined them.
The guilt arrived immediately.
Sharp and familiar.
Ugly.
Pathetic.
Look what you’ve done.
You can’t even keep them nice.
You always ruin everything.
You stared at your reflection in the dark window.
Dinner sat untouched downstairs.
You weren’t hungry anyway.
You needed to lose weight.
Missing one meal wouldn’t matter.
Maybe two.
Maybe three.
The thought settled comfortably beside all the others.
Punishment disguised as logic.
You carefully stacked the letters again.
Ignoring how badly your hands trembled.
Ignoring the hollow ache in your stomach.
Ignoring the way your eyes burned.
By midnight, everything was organized.
Ready to be returned.
Every letter.
Every sketch.
Every gift.
All the proof that, for a little while, someone had looked at you and seen something worth loving.
You closed the lid.
Then sat beside the box in silence.
Staring at it.
As if closing it somehow made everything inside less real.
Less painful.
Less yours.
Outside, rain tapped softly against the window.
Inside, you wrapped your arms around yourself and tried not to cry again.
And across Gotham, Damian Wayne sat at his desk with an unfinished letter in front of him.
A letter he had promised himself he wouldn’t write.
A letter addressed to you.
A letter that began with only four words.
I miss you terribly.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆ ࿈ ⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃
again English isn’t my first language and I let ai correct my spelling and grammar. And Just as a little reminder I just made an instagram if you’re interested anyone can message me I’m open for listening to venting or talking 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
so I know there was a fanfic about Tim Bradford called ‘Tim Bradfords Princess’ and I can’t find it anymore just like the creator it was @fluentmoviequoter and when I open any links tumblr says it doesn’t exist anymore
