#tim might be be a little concussed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

letoasai · 3 months

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Will work for food ~part 3

Part 2 ~ Master Post

Tim was beyond irritated. He could have been on a date. Okay, he wasn’t sure if they were dates but they could have been. Damn it. He’d continued to summon Phantom weekly and they’d gone to lunch every time. Pizza. Barbecue. An amazing ramen place. They went to a music festival and visited all the food vendors.

Things had been going smoothly. He’d been learning more about the Infinite Realm and about Danny himself and was having a great time despite his meddling siblings trying to butt in at every turn. Dick was a repeat offender but Duke, Cass and even Damien had all attempted to ambush him. It was lucky Danny thought it was hilarious and helped Tim avoid them.

The last two weeks had been a disaster though. He’d had a four day mission with his own team, and had to deal with his friends poking fun at him while trying not to get shot at. Superboy had vastly exaggerated his interaction with Danny to the others!

By the time he’d gotten back to Gotham, he’d had a small backlog of cases to get through. It was really cutting into both his CEO work and his freaking lunches with a really cute guy who just so happened to be an immortal king of a realm.

Just when he thought he’d have a little time in the next day or two, Scarecrow was back on his bullshit with his fear toxins. Hadn’t they just done this recently? How had he gotten out of Arkham so fast?

Tim was woozy, having taken a breath of the toxins and gotten a swift injury to his leg in the process. He’d say it was luck that he already had an antidote on him to fear toxins, but they all carried one with them at all times. He wasn’t freaking out but he could have done without the lightheadedness. It always briefly had him wondering if he’d gotten a concussion, but it was just a side effect. Usually.

“You good, babybird?” He heard Nightwings voice through comms. He probably thought he was whispering and had no idea how loud he actually was because of the chaos of the night.

“Never better.” He grumbled, trying to shake off a chill while limping. There was no one around to see at the moment so it was fine. “I’m headed your way.”

“Good, Scarecrows around here somewhere. Slippery nut job.” Nightwing said.

“Pay attention.” Batman’s voice ran through their comms. “He divided us on purpose. This isn’t his usual pattern.”

There was grumbling across the line, everyone having figured that out already but B wouldn’t be B if he didn’t state the obvious for them some nights.

Tim grappled from one street to the next, hearing sirens far enough in the distance that they couldn’t have been for this. When he landed safely, he pressed his palms to his masked eyes. The throbbing in his head was so annoying, but the jack hammering of his heart was…something he probably shouldn’t ignore but he was.

“Not a concussion, Red.” He muttered to himself. “Just a stupid sore leg and Scarecrow’s stupid toxins filtering out.” There was always the option that it was a new strain and his antidote didn’t work as well but he wasn’t hallucinating his worst fears so maybe not.

Trying to shake off his limp, Tim wandered across a nearly empty parking lot. There were a few abandoned cars, most of them missing their tires and on blocks. He kept an ear out, listening for anything that didn’t belong but it was Gotham, and even in the dead of night there were noises. Traffic, generators, air conditioners, nocturnal animals. There was always ambient noise, the key was ignoring the background hums and focusing on the shuffling goons. The problem he was having now however, was the faint ringing in his ears.

“Red?” Nightwing's voice drifted across comms again. “I don’t see you yet. Something happen?”

“No i’m…” Tim swallowed, suddenly parched and feeling overall…bad. He tilted his head back to check his surroundings and realized he’d gone the wrong way. How disoriented was he? “Okay, i might not be okay.”

“Red Robin?” Batman’s voice was calm but urgent. “Do you need backup.”

Tim almost stumbled but caught himself. “I feel like shit. I think there was something new in the toxins my antidote didn’t take care of.”

“Oh, how wonderful. You figured it out so quickly.”

Tim tensed, whirling around to face Scarecrow. Tim hated to think he’d been snuck up on but the rogue was sitting on one of the ripped apart cars in the lot.

“I’m coming to you!” Nightwing said firmly. “On my way!”

Tim waved Scarecrow’s words away cockily and only just noticed the way he trembled. “You’re losing your touch. Not a single, horrifying hallucination.”

The rogue just chuckled. “Oh no, tonight’s a bit of a tester. Something a little different.”

“That right?” Fuck.

“Oh indeed, you don't mind being a guinea pig, do you? This particular batch didn’t have the hallucinogens, no. What it is doing is creeping through your system, forcing your body to activate all too real symptoms of fear.”

“Seems a little corny for you.” Tim said, knowing the others were listening carefully.

“And you're shaking.” Scarecrow’s huge grin grew broader. “What else, little bird? Over heating? Or are you freezing? Heart pounding? Knees weak? Feeling a fresh wave of tears building? Do let me know. It’s for science.”

Tim tsked. He wasn’t about to cry but his throat was tight. It was almost like he was having trouble taking in a breath.

“Somehow, a gas that makes people sick is so much less impressive than your normal routine.” Tim said, his trembling getting worse, but he was positive he was being tracked by at least some of the others. He just had to stall until Nightwing got there. “A couple of phantom pains the best you could come up with?”

That wasn’t his best quip but Scarecrow took the bait anyway. “Oh no, it’s very real. Your body might not know why it’s so panicked, but it’s pulling out all the stops. Who knows, maybe your heart could just stop.”

The problem with a lot of Gotham rogues, was the fact that they were actually intelligent people. The man likely could have gone on and on, but he jumped up and moved onto the offensive. He had a pitchfork tonight, and no one could say the man was original.

“Now just stay still!”

Tim dodged, the pitchfork surprisingly leaving quite the hole in the concrete. It should have been a simple dance and disarm kind of fight, but Tim’s shaking just got worse, and his stomach started to hurt, and his heart really was trying to beat out of his chest. It really was like he was terrified, the chills of his body making him sweat.

“No ever actually stays still when someone’s running at them like a lunatic.” Tim said, but the words were almost hard to get out. He wasn’t choking but his throat was so clogged.

The sass cost him though, and he was hit in his already wounded leg. It sent him rolling across the parking lot and Scarecrow just laughed.

“Oh, what fun. It’s a shame though, i really miss the screaming of my patients visually seeing their worst nightmare, i’ll have to combine them.”

Tim legs nearly gave out from under him when he tried to get up. Injury and the damn shaking leaving him unstable. He’d had to stay crouching, pulling out his staff to dig into the ground in front of him to hold himself up.

“Regardless of my fears, you’re not one of them.” Tim wheezed, wondering if the hallucinogens were actually kicking in when a mist appeared. It was a frigid kind of cold that left ice crystals on all nearby metals.

“Oh, we’ll see, little bird. I have plenty for your entire family. In fact, i’d love to see what a second dose would do to you.”

“Nearly there.” Batman said, but there was a hiss to his tone that said he knew it wasn’t going to be a timely arrival.

“This isn’t good…” Tim whispered, watching Scarecrow pull out a small canister, and he was too wobbling to put more distance between them.

With a laugh, Scarecrow hurled it towards him. “Don’t be afraid to inhale!”

Tim jerked back using his bo-staff as a crutch to give him some kind of momentum but he watched as the canister exploded midair and…something was strange. The cloud of chemicals had been clear for one second before disappearing. There was no time to worry about how quickly it could have been caught on a breeze when even Scarecrow himself looked confused.

“So fear is your niche.”

Tim shuddered, eyes going wide as his head jerked towards the sound of the voice. The gentle reverb of the words slicing through him. His solace was that the ire he heard wasn’t directed at him.

Danny was there. Well, King Phantom was there, having appeared out of thin air. It was the first time Tim had seen that form in a while but his friend was just as hauntingly ethereal as Tim remembered.

He dropped the canister, and Tim had at least a partial answer. Whatever had gone wrong with the toxins had been Phantom’s doing.

The king stared down at Scarecrow, but Tim couldn’t see his face from where he now sat. “I know a thing or two about fear.” Danny whispered.

“Impossible.” Scarecrow spat, puffing up like a cat. None of the Gotham rogues liked their plans being disturbed and by a newcomer no less. “What did you do?! Did you inhale my toxins!? Absorb them!? Fool! You’ll be their next victim! You won’t be so relaxed for long! Even Red Robin’s a terrified mess!”

“Red Robin! Report!” Batman’s voice was firm in his ear.

“Relaxed?” Phantom mused, deceivingly calm. He’d stiffened, head turning just a little as if checking on Tim, but he never truly took his attention off the rogue. “No, not relaxed. Angry. As delicious as your parlor tricks were, i take offense to finding you hovering like a predator over my friend.”

He rose into the air a few feet, and only then did Tim realize that he had been standing instead of floating, well, he was floating now.

Scarecrow just tsked, unaware of the power in front of him. “Meta? Alien? It doesn’t matter. That combination of chemicals-”

“Was delicious.” Danny repeated.

Tim scooted away, his leg throbbing. “Phantom.” He muttered, finally answering Batman through strangled breaths. “Phantom’s here.”

“Regardless, the offering was not enough to pacify me.” Danny muttered, the black crown over his head spinning.

Scarecrow actually began laughing, it started with a chuckle but then it grew into something loud and boisterous. “You’re barely more than a child, are you sure you’re ready for this? The hero game is crowded here in Gotham, and you don’t look like any bird or bat i’ve ever seen.”

Tim watched the way Danny’s hood swayed to the side as he tilted his head. “I am no bird, nor am i a bat.”

“I’m sure you’ve impressed your little friends with your meta abilities, but it means nothing in a city like this. Though i see you have your talents. How are you unaffected by my toxins?”

Ice erupted from the ground, enguling Scarecrow’s legs an inch at a time, creeping up his body without a hint of warning. “You misunderstand.” Danny whispered. “I am not here for a conversation. I’m here for my friend, and to teach you that dabbling in fear is childsplay to a being like myself.”

Tim couldn’t see… Danny was facing away from him but his galaxy cloak billowed out around him without even the slightest breeze. There were shadows…? Something? Tim couldn’t see though he tried. What he could see was Scarecrow, and even with his face covered, his body language betrayed his growing horror.

“You can not frighten the dead.” Danny said, but in a voice that was decidedly not his own.

Scarecrow started screaming, a desperate sound that had him thrashing in place, the ice now well around his chest. Tim didn’t know what the rogue was seeing but if scaring someone to death was really a thing…

“Phantom.” Tim tried to raise his voice and had to close his eyes to shove away the sudden lightheadedness. He was shivering. “W..we good…?”

Whatever was going on paused, and Danny seemed to reign himself in. The strange movement of his cloak stopped and Tim briefly made a mental note to ask Danny what kind of other forms he might have.

Danny turned to him, looking normal, though he hadn’t seen his white hair in a while. “I forget sometimes…” He commented, voice even softer than usual. “The living are so fragile.”

Scarecrow was still screaming, but his head was lulling back and he looked seconds away from passing out. He was held in place by the ice, and obviously wasn’t going anywhere.

“Yeah, we’re like that.” Tim muttered, shoulders slumping now that the danger was taken care of, it didn’t stop the way his body twitched. His stomach hurt so bad.

Danny landed by his side silently, a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Leg’s a little messed up but it’ll heal. The… the toxins in my system are going to have to run their course, unless i can work out how to s..somehow come up with a new antidote before then. St..stupid…”

Danny cocked his head to the side, wispy white hairs floating around his face. It was unfair how attractive he was. “Want me to eat it?”

Tim heard a confused “Wut?” from his comm. Spoiler summing up that comment nicely.

“I can absorb emotion. Because it can sustain us. I just think of it as a different way to eat.” Danny said. Tim breathed a sigh of relief that that half ghost had been around him long enough to know that he liked explanations when he didn’t understand something.

“That’s w..why the fear toxins didn’t affect you.”

“Mhmm.” Danny hummed. “Gotta get that recipe though. That was tasty. Frighty would love it.

Tim sighed, feeling another wave of nausea and he…was pretty sure he was seeing colors he shouldn’t be. “You always leave m…me with more questions than answers. My s..symptoms aren’t emotional. Chem..chemically induced.” And fuck this was so embarrassing in front of the King of the Infinite Realm.

Danny hummed, and if Tim wasn’t mistaken, he sounded amused. He leaned closer, fingers touching Tim’s face and all at once, he started to feel better. His shaking stopped almost immediately and he was left to assume that despite the chemicals he’d inhaled, Danny was still able to take them from him. Honestly, scientifically it made no sense whatsoever.

At least his stomach didn’t hurt anymore.

“What do i owe you for this one?” Tim asked with a weary smile. Other than a sore leg, the other symptoms seemed to disappear.

“I got two separate fear meals. I’m good.” Danny chuckled, helping Tim to his feet only seconds before Batman and Nightwing arrived.

Nightwing made a beeline for Tim, grabbing him in the tightest hug while Batman was instead looking Scarecrow over who had, in fact, passed out at some point.

“Wing, watch it! Watch it! The leg!”

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Nightwing clung anyway. He then held a hand out to Danny. “Thank you so so much, your Majesty! Your timing is to die for!”

Tim knew he was in trouble when Danny took Nightwings hand to shake, and his eyes lit up. “Wing…” Tim said in a warning tone that went unheard.

“No big deal. Visiting Red Robin really lifts my spirits.” Danny said with a small grin, fangs a little larger than in his living form.

Nightwing tipped his head back and laughed. “Yes!”

“No…” Tim groaned, shoving away from his brother.

“In all seriousness, i’m glad i came.” Danny said. “I wasn’t sure if you were trying to summon me or not so i thought i’d poke my head in and see.”

“I…didn’t realize i did?” Tim muttered, checking his utility belt. “I do have the spell circle but…”

Danny shrugged “Well you said ‘Phantom’ at some point. I thought it sounded a little different but well…i didn’t think it would hurt to double check. I’m glad i was able to help.”

“We appreciate it, your Majesty.” Batman commented in a gruff tone. He very much did not appreciate it but couldn’t be mad about someone saving Tim when he wouldn’t have gotten there in time.“What exactly did you do? This ice is-”

“Oh, right.” Phantom waved his hand flippantly and the ice disappeared. Scarecrow dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. “He’ll probably suffer nightmares for the next week but he’ll shake it off.”

“I have… so many questions…” Tim repeated.

Danny just looked at him fondly. “You always do.”

“I’ll take him in.” Batman said. “Red Robin, return for medical treatment.”

“I’m fine, B.” Tim said, but he was getting a look. “Grab whatever he has on him so we can make new antidotes.”

Batman grunted, and it was possibly lucky that the rogue was already knocked out.

“Hey, hey, King Phantom-” Nightwing began.

“Just Phantom is fine.”

Nightwing was positively giddy. “What do you say to four a.m. waffles? I know you ate the fear or whatever but you deserve a proper thank you meal.”

There was something so boyishly charming about the way Danny smiled. His constellation freckles even seemed to twinkle. “As long as they don’t bite back. I’d like that.”

“Concerning.” Tim hummed, testing his weight on his leg. It wasn’t broken but he wouldn’t be grappling anywhere else tonight.

“Great!” Nightwing said, tapping his own comm. “Spoiler will meet us there!”

Danny glanced at Tim. “Do uh.. You go…” He gestured to them. “Dressed like this?”

“All the time.”

“Okay then.” Danny said, and the only adjustment he made was to reach up above him and grab his crown. It disappeared from view.

“So many questions.” Tim heaved a sigh. “I guess breakfast would be nice. We haven’t done breakfast yet.”

Danny nodded once. “At least i feel like i earned it this time. You’ve just been treating me so much lately.” He sounded as close to shy as Tim had ever heard and it was killing him.

Ugh, now he was doing the death puns…

“You don’t have to earn your food with us.” Tim said softly.

“RR is right, you know?” Nightwing beamed. “You should totally get him to bring you home one night, Phantom. Best home cooking you’ve ever had.”

Danny hummed, “It’s a low bar, but that could be…nice.”

“We’ll discuss it over waffles!” Nightwing just…decided.

Tim shook his head, not sure how he felt about these two getting along but Danny was smiling and Tim was a sucker for those smiles.

“Alright.” Tim said, stifling a yawn. “My leg is stiff so one of you is gonna have to help me get there, but let’s go eat.”

Danny’s green eyes just glowed with mirth. “No problem.”

#dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dead tired #tim drake #red robin #danny phantom #Nightwing #Batman #scarecrow #repaid with food #i don't actually know a damn thing about Scarecrow

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xxchumanixx · 3 months

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No problem ma dear. I'm sure you're going to make the absolute freaking best our of my request. Happy to hear that you are going to make a story out of it 🥹♥️

Restoring faith

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tag: fluff, language, comfort, angst, hurt, readers ex was abusive, grumpy Tim (yes, he's a warning), not entirely proof read yet Word count: 5.933 Authors note: Hello love, thank you so much for the request! I had so much fun writing it, and again, I'm sorry for losing the original request (but, tell you what, I managed to get the request at least copied and pasted, because I hadn't closed tumblr on my laptop yesterday and it was still there (even though it was just a bug, but hey, i managed to copy the text)) Fun fact: My daughters name is gonna be Hailee one day (If I ever get a daughter). Also, I might have messed a little with the timeline (in terms of Celina appearing a little earlier) Here's the original request:

"I currently can't stop thinking about Tim Bradford so I came up with this grumpy Tim request, cause I need grumpy Tim becoming the protective sweet guy he is. Tim has a new neighbor, a single mom. Afraid that now his peace and quiet in his home will be over, he's convinced of the contrary when reader's little girl wrapped the grumpy neighbor around her little fingers.

Reader wants to start a new life away from her abusive ex and so she moved states with her daughter. Tim instantly melts when the cute little girl gets bubbly when she sees Tim.

In the meantime Tim has a suspicion why reader is a single mom, she flinches when there're loud noises or when he gets too close to her. One night she wanted to do something in her apartment and fell from the ladder hitting her head hard. Her daughter runs to Tim telling him her mommy is hurt. Reader has a bad concussion and at first doesn't recognize Tim thinking it's her ex hurting her. From that moment her secret is revealed and Tim swears to himself he's going to protect these two at all costs. Perhaps we can also see Tim nursing her back to health with her concussion 😱🙃🥹 "

Now, without further ado, enjoy!

"Hailee?"

Rolling your eyes you sat the box in your hands down. Where did she go now? "Hailee?" you repeated louder, leaving the kitchen to go look for your daughter.

Leaving the house you saw her at your car, with a stranger.

"Hailee!" you called, as you suddenly panicked, running towards her. The stranger took a step back, holding up his hands.

Stopping in front of your daughter, shielding her as you softly pushed her behind you, you looked up at the stranger.

"Can I help you?" you asked, heart racing.

Did he find you? But he was in jail - he shouldn't even know you moved states.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." the man returned, smiling slightly. "My name's Tim Bradford, I'm your neighbor. I saw that your daughter was alone and I just wanted to make sure she's okay."

Eyes widening, you sighed in relief.

"Sorry, I just-" you started, but cut yourself off. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N. We just moved here. Nice to meet you." He nodded, eyes wandering over the many boxes in and around your car.

"Do you need help?" he asked, motioning at the boxes. "Oh..." you made, swallowing. "Yeah, some help would be nice, thank you." He smiled, a smile that caused you to return it.

"Okay..." he mumbled, randomly picking one of the boxes and starting to walk towards the house. Picking up a box as well, you let Hailee walk in front of you, following Tim.

He stood in the entryway, looking around. "Where do these boxes go?" he wanted to know. Reading what was written on the side of the box you motioned for the living room.

He nodded, putting the box down.

His eyes wandered over the numerous kids toys already scattered on the floor, cocking a brow.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you put your box down beside his.

"She loves these toys, she's five." you explained, licking your bottom lip. He didn't seem too convinced of a five-year-old in his neighborhood, but you wouldn't let him judge early.

Motioning outside, he walked out, picking up another box.

"Hailee, honey, would you please stay here and wait for mommy and Tim to get the boxes inside?" you asked of her, motioning at the toys. She nodded, sitting down on a blanket and grabbing a few of her barbies.

Nodding to yourself you walked outside, as Tim met you halfway, box in hand.

It took an hour for you to bring all of the boxes inside, but when you were done you sighed in relief.

"Thank you so much." you thanked Tim, handing him a beer. "I wish I could invite you for a dinner as a thanks, but my kitchen isn't ready for cooking yet, so more than takeout isn't possible for tonight."

"Oh, don't worry, me and my girlfriend are going out for dinner tonight." he responded, smiling as he sipped his beer.

His girlfriend.

Damn, you should have known that a man this handsome would be in a relationship.

Keeping a straight face, you nodded. "Well then, even better." you told him, smiling.

When he was gone you and your daughter decided what to eat. "What about chicken nuggets?" you asked, watching her, as she drew flowers.

"And fries?" Her eyes lit up, as she looked at you, hopefully. "Fries and nuggets for the lady it is, then." you told her, smiling. She cheered, eating a blueberry, before she continued drawing.

_____

It had been a month, since you and Hailee moved into the house.

The boxes had been unpacked and the house looked finished. You had seen Tim a few times, had talked to him and met his girlfriend Ashley.

She seemed nice.

Your new job had already begun, and Hailee was at the kindergarden. It seemed all good, letting you breathe more freely, since you moved states.

Tim seemed hesitant whenever Hailee was near, like he was afraid she could disturb his peace, the quietness that convinced you to move to this street.

You had just been grocery shopping, Hailee was playing with a stuffed animal you had bought for her, whilst you were unloading the car, when Tims truck parked in his driveway.

He got out, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, as he saw you. Coming over, he greeted you. "Hey." you gave back, heart pumping a little faster.

Even though he was in a relationship, that didn't mean that he wasn't handsome.

His eyes briefly wandered to Hailee, who was playing with the stuffed animal, making sounds to emphasize it. He bit his cheek, not seeming convinced that she wouldn't start shouting any second.

Clearing your throat you averted his attention back to you. "How is Ashley?" you asked, smiling. He stiffened, biting his cheek, but he tried to cover it up. "Oh, she's doing great." he lied, wearing a tight lipped smile.

Biting your lip, you nodded. You weren't bad at profiling people, but you could've still been wrong about it.

"How was work?" he wanted to know, adjusting his backpack. "Oh, it was great." you told him, nodding with a smile. "The coworkers are very nice, I think I'll stay."

He nodded, and you made a little more smalltalk, before you realized that you had groceries that needed to be cooled.

Apologizing, you said goodbye, before you and Hailee went inside. You looked back over your shoulder, seeing as he did the same. He waved goodbye, and you did the same, before closing the door.

"Mommy?" Hailee asked, sitting down on the couch as you began to unpack the paperbags. You hummed, signalling for her to continue. "Why did Tim lie to you?"

Eyes widening, you halted for a second, before you continued to pack the grocieries into the fridge.

"What makes you think that he lied?" you wanted to know, surprised about her even noticing. "He..." she paused, searching for the right words. "He seemed like he didn't like your question."

Huffing to yourself, you smiled. She clearly came after you.

"You know, honey, sometimes people don't like to talk about their private life." you told her, continuing to unpack some fruits. "If he doesn't want to talk about breaking up with his girlfriend, than that's okay."

"But mommy, you told me not to lie." she gave back, brows furrowing. "Lying is bad."

You nodded, walking over to her with a small juice box with a tiger on it. Handing her the box, you sat down beside her. "That's right." you agreed, as she took the box and opened it. "But some things are private. And maybe he's just too hurt right now, to talk about it."

Drinking the juice, she nodded. "Okay." she spoke, after putting the juice down on the coffee table. "Can I have some cookies?" Laughing, you shook your head. "No, honey, we'll cook now - cookies later."

_____

The next day was your day off. Hailee stayed at home as well, so you could spend some time with her.

You were baking, Hailee helping with the batter. Going through the list of things you needed for the batter, you noticed, that you didn't buy milk.

"Damn it." you mumbled, biting your lip. "Dam-" Hailee wanted to mimick you, but you shut her up, your hand over her mouth as you sent her a pointed look.

She grinned, causing you to shake your head, a smile on your lips, as you let go of her.

You had real luck with her. She was a calm kid, one that wasn't stubborn or petulant - only in the right ways.

Not like her father.

Contemplating where to get milk from without driving to the next store, you bit your lip.

You could go to Tim and ask him.

"Hailee, what do you say if we ask Tim for some milk?" you asked your daughter, whose eyes lit up at the mention of him. She seemed to have grown a liking to him.

"Okay." you mumbled, helping her down from the kitchen aisle. She ran forward and to the front door, before you stopped her. "Do you really want to go to Tim with your Frozen slippers?" you asked, cocking a brow.

She blushed, giggling. "Do you think he likes Elsa, too?" she wanted to know, eyes sparkling. Chuckling, you kneeled down to help her into her boots.

"I bet he loves her, just as much as you do." you told her, smiling. Giggling again, she slipped into the boots, the little lights on them flashing in multiple colors.

Opening the door, she ran foward. Luckily Tims house was next to yours, so you didn't have to worry about her running out on the street.

Picking her up, you helped her to ring the doorbell. It took a few seconds, in which you sat her down again, for Tim to open the door.

His eyes widened slightly, as he saw you. "Hi." you greeted, blushing a little. "Hey." he returned, eyes narrowing. "We're sorry to interrupt, but we wanted to bake and I forgot to buy milk." you explained, sending him a crooked smile, as you wrung your hands nervously.

"Do you happen to have some spare, that we can borrow?" His brows rose, one corner of his mouth turning upwards. "Borrow?"

Biting your lip, you chuckled. "Yeah, with the intention to buy a new one." you explained. He huffed in amusement, before he nodded. "Sure, just give me a second." he told you, before he disappeared back into the house.

A few seconds later, he returned, handing you the milk. You shrinked back, flinching, before you reminded yourself that he didn't want to cause you any harm.

His mouth slightly opened, as his arm sank down a little, brows furrowing. Taking the milk from him, you breathed in deeply, trying to cover your reaction up. "Thank you." you nodded, forcing yourself to smile. "I'm gonna go grocery shopping tomorrow, then I'll get you a new one."

He nodded as well, still a little confused from your reaction.

When he was about to say goodbye, Hailee spoke up, holding up the new stuffed animal. "This is mr. Bubbles." she told him. You hadn't noticed her bringing it along.

It was an elefant in the shape of a teacup. She had instantly loved it, after discovering it at the kids section.

Tim looked at you, like he was looking for help. Motioning at your daughter with your head, you smiled a little. He looked down at her, inspecting the toy.

"Cool." he told her, forcing himself to smile. "Looks... interesting." She giggled, not noticing his discomfort. But you did. Swallowing, your hand found her back. "Say bye to Tim." you told her. "Bye Tim!" she shouted, already running towards your front door.

Clearing your throat, you nodded at him. "See you." He nodded in return. "Yeah, see you."

Sighing on your way back, you swallowed.

He clearly wasn't fond of the idea of a child next door.

_____

When the pie and muffins were done, you sighed.

Your kitchen looked like shit.

Starting to clean up, your daughter came up to you, chewing on a muffin. "Do you think Tim would like some muffins?" she wanted to know, batting her lashes.

Licking your lip, you knew exactly what she tried to do.

But the amount of muffins you had baked, convinced you to say yes - right after her hopeful eyes.

Nodding, you started to pack some muffins into a box. "I bet he'll like a few muffins." you agreed, smiling encouragingly down at her. She jumped in excitement, waiting for you to put the muffins into the box.

"Do you want to give him the muffins?" you asked your daughter. She nodded, smiling brightly, as you handed her the box.

Humming to herself she walked to the front door, slipping into her boots, as she patiently waited for you to follow.

When you were both ready, you left the house, walking over to Tims. Ringing the doorbell, you waited for him. When he opened the door, Hailee was the first to speak.

"Hi Tim, I have muffins for you!"

His brows rose, mouth agape. Swallowing, he licked his lips, crouching down to get a better look at the box in Hailee's hands.

You were surprised that he did so, after he was so hesitant towards her before.

"We want to cheer you up!" Hailee told him, smiling brightly. Tims gaze wandered towards you, brow cocked in a silent question, but Hailee was faster than you.

"Mommy said that you broke up with your girlfriend." she explained, causing his eyes to harden. Your mouth opened, but you kept silent. "When I'm said, I ask my mommy to have some sweets. So I thought, you could use some as well, so you wouldn't be sad anymore."

He nodded slowly, biting on the inside of his lip.

God damn it. Kids and their fast mouths.

"Thank you, Hailee." he told her, smiling at her, as he took the box from her hands. Then he stood back up, gaze fixed on you. "Listen-" you started, but he cut you off. "Thanks for the muffins." he told you, before he went back inside his house, closing the door.

"Mommy?" Hailee tried to gather your attention, tugging at your sleeve as your gaze was glued to the door. "Did I do something wrong?"

Looking at your daughter, you knelt in front of her. "No, honey, you did nothing wrong." you told her, stroking her arms lovingly. "He just didn't know, that we know about him breaking up with Ashley."

Her eyes went wide. "I'm so sorry!" she apologized, eyes watering. Hugging her, you stroked her back. "Don't be, precious. It's all fine." "Is he angry with me now?" she cried, causing your heart to ache.

The last time she said these words, her father had yelled at her for letting a cup of water drop to the floor.

It was the last time she had seen him.

Sighing to yourself, you picked her up. One of the curtains moved, as you walked past them and back to your house.

Did he see Hailee cry?

Shaking your head, you stepped inside, closing the door, before setting Hailee down to remove her shoes.

"Are you angry at me?"

Your brows furrowed at her question, as you shook your head. "No!" you told her, brushing some hair out of her face. "I'm not angry at you, honey. You did nothing wrong. But, next time, I would be grateful if something like this stays between us, okay? I'm not angry, Hailee."

She looked up at you with big, round eyes, sticking out her pinky towards you. "Pinky promise?" she asked and you nodded, as your pinky curled around hers. "Pinky promise."

_____

A few days later, the box you had brought Tim sat on your porch, cleaned and emptied.

Hailee was at the kindergarden, as you came home. Your work ended earliy, so you had some spare time until you had to pick her up.

Taking the box, you wanted to open the door, as someone cleared their throat behind you. You flinched, instantly trying to shield yourself, as you turned around.

It was Tim.

Letting go of the breath you had held in, your heart hammered in your chest.

"Hi." you said out of breath, as his brows furrowed in worry. "Are you okay?" he asked, licking his bottom lip. Nodding, you adjusted your bag, as it slid down your shoulder.

"Everythings fine." you assured him, swallowing. "Just easy to startle, thats all." He nodded, before he cleared his throat. "Listen, I appreciate the muffins - I really do -, but my love life is something I'd like to keep private." he explained. "Yes, Ashley and I broke up, but thats my business, not yours."

Your cheeks reddened, growing hot.

"I'm sorry." you apologized, fumbling with the strap of your bag. "My daughter - she was just curious, she thought that you might have not been honest when I asked about Ashley. I know that its not my business, really. I just told her that you might not want to talk about it, and that she shouldn't worry about it. I didn't think much of it."

He took a deep breath and you flinched again - you just couldn't help it.

"Is really everything okay?" he asked. You knew it wasn't what he initially wanted to say. "Mhm." you made, biting your lip. He didn't seem convinced, but he didn't press further.

"Its okay, I just wanted to make clear that its my business." he spoke instead, sending you a crooked smile that was surely meant to lighten the mood a little.

Nodding, you agreed. "Yeah, I totally get that. Won't happen again." He nodded as well, a light smile gracing his lips. "Okay, thanks for the muffins again." he said, taking a few steps backwards. "They were great." With that he turned, walking to his truck.

Only then did you notice the backpack resting on his back, indicating that he was off to work. You didn't know what he worked as, but it seemed to be in shifts.

Getting inside, you breathed in deeply.

He seemed reserved, but he was nice enough.

_____

A week later, you and Hailee were at a BBQ hosted by one of your neighbors. You couldn't help but look out for Tim, waiting for him to appear.

The atmosphere was nice, the people were all friendly and open. Hailee was playing with a few kids around her age, as you were sipping some coke.

The food was almost ready and you slowly lost hope that he'd still come.

The fire crackled, heating up, as it suddenly banged, something inside it most likely having caused a reaction.

You flinched, shrinking together almost unnoticably, as you frantically looked for Hailee. Finding her, still playing chase with the other kids, you breathed a sigh of relief, slowly calming down.

But, as one of your neighbors - Jeff - pushed another - Henry -, they started to fight. Walking over to Hailee, taking her by the hand, you made sure to be out of harms way, as the men punched at each other.

When no one was able to stop them, Monica, the wife of Henry, called the police.

It took them only a few minutes, in which Henry knocked Jeff out, to arrive. When they entered the garden, you couldn't believe, who it was.

Tim.

"Mommy!" Hailee whisper-yelled. "Its Tim!" You nodded, somehow flooded with relief. He was a cop. He was one of the safest neighbors you could have.

Tim and the other officer, a young woman, took a few statements, as you others waited. When they were done, Hailee let go of your hand and before you could have stopped her, she was on her way towards Tim.

You followed her, sighing.

"Hi Tim!" she greeted him, smiling up at him. He blinked a few times in confusion, before he smiled, kneeling down in front of her. "Hey Hailee." he greeted her, before his eyes landed on you.

"Hi, sorry for that." you apologized, blushing. "I couldn't stop her. I think she's excited that you're a cop." He smiled, huffing quietly. "Don't worry." he told you, as you greeted the other officer - officer Chen.

"It was all fine, until that douchebag-" you cut yourself off, as you squinted your eyes. "Until Jeff pushed Henry." you corrected yourself, sending Hailee a warning look not to repeat what you accidentally said.

"Don't worry, we have them under control now." officer Chen told you, smiling slightly at Hailee, who seemed far more excited to see a cop, than some others would have been.

You nodded, thanking her, as Hailee started to ask Tim questions about the various things clipped to his belt. He chuckled at her curiosity, explaining what the things were.

You huffed to yourself, a little confused.

She seemed to have him wrapped around her little fingers, after all.

That would surely get interesting.

_____

A few days had passed since the BBQ, leaving you to think more and more about Seargent Bradford.

You had learned that he was a Sergeant, working for the LAPD. That explained the shifts.

You were currently trying to fix a light, that bothered you for quiet some time now. Sometimes it would work, sometimes not.

Even though you were afraid of heights, you had climbed up the old ladder that you found in your basement, having your fingers crossed that it wouldn't shatter under your weight.

Hailee was sat in the living room, playing with her dolls, as you tried to reach the lightbulb. Taking a shaky breath, you stretched a little further, as you suddenly slipped.

Losing your balance you fell, your head hitting the ground rather hard. Your sight blurred, as you heard your daughter call out for you.

She seemed to panick and you wanted to tell her that you would be alright, but you couldn't, as suddenly, the lights went out.

"Tim!" Hailee called, crying as she frantically kocked on his door. "Tim!"

The door opened, revealing Tim who looked down at the little girl with worry in his eyes, it only intensifying at her tear stained face.

"Whats wrong?" he wanted to know, crouching down. "M-My mommy!" she called out, sobbing. "Its my mommy!"

As fast as he could he picked her up, running towards the open front door of her house. Cursing at himself for not bringing his weapon, he slowly inched forward and into the living room, where her mother lay unconcious.

"Fuck!" he breathed out, setting Hailee down and calling an ambulance, before he approached her mother.

"Y/N?" you heard someone call out your name, luring you back into conciousness. "Y/N!"

Your eyes slowly opened, trying to make sense of the blur you saw. "Hey, what happened?" the person who called out your name wanted to know. Its silhouette came into view and your eyes widened, as you sat up and inched backwards.

"No, no, no, no!" you breathed out, as the person followed you, before your back hit the wall. "No!" you shouted, as he wanted to grab you, shielding your face with your hands.

"Why are you here?" you wanted to know, as tears made their way out of your eyes. "You should be in jail, Robert!"

He halted, you could sense it. "What?" he said, sounding confused. "Who's Robert?" He must have been messing with you, after all you were sure it was him you were seeing.

"Go away!" you yelled, crying as your thoughts were with your daughter. "Where is Hailee?" "She's here, sitting on the couch." he told you, crouching down in front of you, as he carefully grabbed your hands, removing them from your face.

"It's me, Tim." he explained, as your view slowly got clearer. "What?" you breathed, searching his face for any indication that it wasn't Tim. But you found none.

"What happened?" you wanted to know, as you heard sirens. "Hailee came over, calling out for me." he explained, swallowing, as his gaze never left yours. "She said it's her mommy, so I grabbed her and went looking. You were unconscious. I assume you fell down the ladder?"

Looking over at the ladder, you flinched. Your head exploded.

"Don't move your head too much." he advised, as paramedics entered the room. "You might have a concussion."

The paramedics asked what happened and Tim explained, saying that you were unconscious when he found you, that you had fallen off the ladder.

They put you on a stretcher, securing your head and neck.

"Wait," you told them, eyes widening. "What about my daughter?" The paramedics looked at each other, as Tim spoke up. "We'll drive after you to the hospital." he assured you. "Okay, thank you."

He nodded, before you were brought to the ambulance.

_____

Once you were checked, the doctor, Dr. Sierra, told you the results.

"You have a concussion, miss Y/L/N." she said, reading through the papers she held in hand. Tim and Hailee were at your side, your daughter sitting on your bed.

"We made a scan to see if you have other injuries and requested the data from the hospital in Ohio, which you used to visit rather often, as I see." the doctor continiued, and you swallowed.

Your cheeks got warmer, as she closed the chart.

"There were multiple traumata, broken bones and other injuries." she explained what you already knew. Glancing at Tim she sent you a silent question, but you shook your head.

"No, he's in jail." you explained quietly, fumbling with the bedsheet. The doctor nodded, seemingly relieved.

"You can go in the morning, if your condition stays good." she explained, before she bid you goodbye.

The room grew silent, the only noise being the bedsheets you fisted rather aggressively.

You sensed that Tim had questions; he wanted to know what happened and more importantly, why you were so scared of him at first.

Sighing, you contemplated where your daughter was supposed to stay the night. She couldn't sleep at the hospital, they wouldn't allow it.

Swallowing, you looked at Tim.

"Can I ask you something?" you wanted to know quietly, brushing through your daughters hair absentmindedly. "Sure." he gave back, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"You don't have to say yes of course..." you started, looking away for a split second. "But, can Hailee stay at your place tonight?" You prayed he would say yes, otherwise you didn't know where else she could stay at.

He nodded, as he bit his cheek.

"Of course." he said. "Where else should she go, when she could cuddle with Kojo?" He smiled, one that made your heart flutter despite the headache that was killing you.

"Thank you, Tim." you returned sincerely, smiling back through the pain. He nodded, before he brushed over his chin, thinking about something. You patiently waited for him, as Hailee played a game on your phone.

It wasn't the best way to keep her occupied, but right now it had to do, especially if it meant she was distracted enough to not listen to you two.

"I don't know what happened back then, but maybe you want to talk to me about it tomorrow?" he offered, sincerity in his eyes. "Or whenever you feel ready."

He was right. He deserved to know.

You nodded, flinching at the pain that shot through your head at the movement. He nodded in return, before he stood. "Hailee, what do you think about ice cream and nuggets?" he wanted to know, looking down at her.

She looked at you, unsure, but you smiled at her.

"Go with Tim, honey." you told her, hugging her. "He'll look after you tonight, whilst mommy stays at the hospital. You can trust him."

She nodded, kissing your cheek and you did the same. "I love you, buttercup." you told her, causing her to smile. "I love you too, mommy."

Tim picked her up, deciding to carry her to the car, as you handed him your keys.

"She's gonna sleep when you're at the car." you whispered, and he nodded, grinning. "I know." he mouthed back, before he said goodbye.

Your daughter waved over his shoulder at you, and you waved back, smiling at her.

_____

The next morning, Tim came with Hailee to pick you up.

Your daughter was excited, jumping into your arms after not having seen you for a couple hours. You hugged her tightly, making her giggle as you tickled her.

Tim smiled, he seemed to be in a good mood.

Not grumpy anymore.

The doctor had dismissed you earlier, right before Tim and Hailee arrived.

When you left the room, walking into the waiting area, you were greeted by two officers. "Sergeant Bradford." one of them greeted him, a man that seemed around his forties.

"Nolan." Tim returned, nodding at him, before he looked at the woman beside him. "Juarez." She nodded in return, greeting him as well, before her gaze landed on you and Hailee, eyes widening.

"Oh, is this your girlfriend?" she asked curiously, but still a little hesitant. Your mouth opened, eyes widening as well.

Why was it so hard for you to respond, suddenly?

Clearing his throat, Tim looked at you, before he looked back at officer Juarez. "No, but she's a friend." he told her. "What are you doing here?"

Officer Nolan seemed hesitant, before he answered Tims question. "We have arrested a robber, but he fell, and we just wanted to make sure, that he's okay, before we bring him in."

Tim nodded, but you were sure there was more behind the story.

He motioned towards the exit, and you nodded. "Was nice to meet you." you told the officers, before you followed Tim out of the hospital and towards his truck.

When you arrived home, you weren't sure how to thank Tim for looking after Hailee, whilst you were at the hospital. Should you invite him for dinner?

Getting out of the truck, you helped Hailee to get out as well. Your head still hurt a little, but it was already better than hours ago, thanks to the painkillers they gave you at the hospital.

"I have a few days off from work, so I can help you with a few things." Tim spoke up, when you and your daughter rounded the truck and came to a stop beside him.

Mouth agape, you looked at him in shock.

"You don't need to do that." you told him, still grateful, but he shook his head. "I want to. Your concussion isn't gone after a day, and you need to rest or otherwise it could get even worse."

Biting your lip, you nodded carefully.

"Thank you, Tim" you gave back. "I really mean it." He smiled slightly, walking towards your front door and you followed him with Hailee by your side.

"You can thank me by getting well."

_____

A few days had gone by, in which Tim had helped you with a few things. He played with Hailee, so you could take a nap or a bath, or would help to cook, so you wouldn't overstrain yourself.

He was different than before.

His grumpiness was all gone, replaced by a person as sweet as the muffins you and Hailee had baked together.

You weren't sure how he got to take these days off from work, but you were grateful for it. One time he was called to the station, because of an emergency that had occurred, but he came straight back afterwards.

You had gotten to learn a few things about him during the days you had spent together, about his past and the things he had seen in his life.

Deciding to make pizza, you made the dough with him helping you, kneading it with his big and strong hands.

Hailee had fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from playing with him. She only had fallen more for him during the last few days. She really liked him, and so did you, you had to admit.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tim asked, looking up from the dough.

You knew what he meant, still you had a lump in your throat at the thought of it. Biting your lip, you nodded. He deserved to know, if not for saving you, then for his help during the last couple days.

"I married rather young." you began, licking your lip, as you wiped your hands on a towel. "I was dumb and naive, not having seen the obvious warning signs that came with Robert."

He nodded, as his suspicions about the name you had called him, after you hit your head, were proved true.

"He was abusive." you continued, eyes watering as you bit your lip to stop the tears that threatened to spill. "Even when I was pregnant with Hailee he didn't stop. He took drugs, drank a lot. He used me as his very own punching bag, letting out his anger on me."

You breathed in deeply, leaning against the kitchen counter, as he continued to knead the dough, still listening.

"Half a year ago, he got arrested. He sold drugs, but the cops caught him. When he was finally gone, I made sure to get the divorce through as fast as possible, before we moved here. He'll be in jail for twelve years."

His brows furrowed, as he paused.

"For selling drugs?" he asked, confused. Shaking your head, you swallowed. "Homicide." you breathed, clearing your throat as your eyes filled with tears again. "After he got arrested, they found out that he had killed someone only a few days prior."

He sighed, nodding as it made sense now.

"That's why you flinch, when there's loud noise or when someone gets too close." he concluded, setting the dough aside, wiping his hands clean on a towel.

You nodded, looking away for a split second, before you reminded yourself that you could trust him, looking back up.

"It's something I adapted after all these years with him."

You covered the dough up, so it could rise. It felt good, talking about it with him. Tim cleaned the countertop, before he put the cloth in the sink, drying his hands.

"Now you're safe." he told you, his eyes finding yours. "I promise. I'm gonna protect you and Hailee, as long as you let me." You nodded, cheeks heating up. You already felt safer than you had during the last years, all because of his presence.

“You have some flour on your cheek.” he told you, motioning towards it. You tried to remove it, but he shook his head. “Let me.” he mumbled, his thumb softly brushing over your cheek, removing the flour.

For the first time in years, you didn’t flinch at the contact.

His thumb rested on your cheek, as his breath fanned over your face, causing your heart to race dangerously fast. Slowly, he leaned closer, your noses brushing as you did the same.

Your lips softly made contact, his slowly moving against yours. You leaned more in his direction, deepening the kiss. His lips felt perfect, like they had been made to be kissed by yours.

His hands found their way to your hips, tugging you closer, as yours rested on his muscular chest. You knew that it was muscular, because you could feel it through the shirt he wore.

He softly guided your head back with his lips, deepening the kiss even more. His tongue brushed over your lip, asking for entrance.

You gladly granted it.

The kiss was soft, not demanding. His tongue brushed yours, fingers lightly digging into your hips.

Your hands went upwards, one finding his cheek, as the other stopped at his neck.

Only when you almost suffocated, did you break the kiss. It definitely was worth it.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, his gaze finding yours. "What do you say," he started, hand resting on your cheek, sending a warmth through your body, that you hadn't felt in years. "if we go out for dinner?"

You smiled up at him, having a hard time to believe the luck you had. How could someone this perfect be interested in you?

"I'd love to go out for dinner with you, Tim." you told him, causing him to smile as well, before his lips connected with yours again.

It felt like he filled you with energy through his kisses. They caused something inside you to come alive again, only tearing apart as you suddenly heard your daughter behind you.

"Ew, mommy!"

#the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie x u #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #imagine #request

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thesuperiorrobin · 10 months

Text

𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞~

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Damian Wayne x Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: mentions of blood, slight cursing, might not be accurate to real ice hockey so I apologize in advance.Damian being a demon on the ice, I wrote Damian OOC, mostly likely, he’s just in love

Damian looks flawless in ice, I’m just going to put that out there. I know he would.

He gets a bit carried away, ramming people up against the walls. That’s what he’s known for when he’s on the ice so the other team tries to stay far away from him, but also try to take the puck from him. Never really works out.

Always get penalized for it too and put in penalty for 2-5 minutes. Is pissed off at that for no reason.

The MAIN reason why his team wins. (Most of the time)

Really loyal to his team. If the opposite side ‘accidentally’ hurts his teammates he’s the first one to skate over to them. Might throw the first punch but it depends 🤷‍♀️ (100% will throw the punch no matter what :))

He gets hurt a lot. Whether it’s him digging with other or simply ramming into thing to hard , theres bound to be blood, a lots of it sometimes. But he always comes back with bandages around the wounds or maybe stitches.

If he does get hurt he puts out a little signal that only you know telling you he’s okay.

His signal in telling you that he’s going to make a goalie and dedicate it to you is literally stopping right in front of you and placing his gloved fist on the clear barricade, giving you a grin.

Buys you the tickets to go to his game. You never miss one. That’s because he says your his lucky charm during the games. That’s why his team wins all the time.

First row right next to his team where he can keep an eye one you and hold small conversations before it’s his time to go back on the ice

Likes to show off.

A lot. Only does it to impress you

Gives you the puck he made a goalie and won with (is that allowed?)

The crowds get louder and louder as the seconds count down. You're anxious and you don't know why. Damian’s team and the opposing team are tied with points. You’ve noticed Damian’s actions get more violent as time goes on. The more violent he got the more penalties he got which is a time out on the benches. Which means the other team gets a chance at scoring a point without Damian roughly ramming them against the wall. You’re cheering him on as he glides against the ice, but soon find yourself taking a break from the yelling.

Your eyes follow his figure as he glides against the ice, hockey stick in hand as he moves the puck back and forth against the base of the stick. There’s another figure coming for him, one from the opposing team. You cringe, knowing what’s about to happen to the poor person.

Lucky it wasn’t another penalty, but you would hear the crowd gasp witnessing the sight for what seemed like the nth time in less than twenty minutes. But, every time he did get a penalty and put in the penalty box, or as you call it the time out box, you can’t help but laugh. Knowing that Damian was put out for being rough much like how a small toddler would be put in the corner for not listening at all. It was always such a funny sight. Damian rams into the person hard, knocking him down.

“OH!” Dick says from behind you “that’s gotta hurt!” You know he wasn’t talking to you but you hum and nod. Dick and the others know first hand how rough he can be, having been practicing with him last time it didn’t end will with. “I think he gave him a concussion” Tim was also behind you sitting next to Dick, while Jason was no where to be seen.

‘Probably went to go shove his face with food’

Despite being on the other team you feel bad for them and the bruises they’ll be getting the following day. Not to mention the sore body’s they’ll have to work through. You’ve been sitting in the same spot for more than an hour with each game period being at least twenty minutes long, with fifteen minute breaks. Maybe they were shorter but you really couldn’t tell.

Damian misses his shot by a few inches away from the goalie, not being able to stop in time he slams himself up against the wall, the people behind it cover their mouths out of shock and you slap your forehead, shaking your head as you watch him brush it off and continue to play. However, his coach calls him out to replace him with another teammate. He compiles but has a sour look on his face, once he reaches the dry ground he throws his stick. Clearly angry and frustrated all you could do is watch for a while as he takes off his helmet, hair slightly damp from the sweat—giving him helmet hair, all messy and pointing in different directions. It makes you laugh a little. But your sudden mood changes quickly as he sits down head in his hands—running over his sweaty black locks. You don’t think twice as you tap on the screen that keeps his and your row apart.

Damian has good hearing with a small sound so it wasn’t hard to hear you tapping away. He turns to your directions, giving you a small nod. You frown and tilt your head down a little and he rolls his eyes knowing what you're implying and gives you a forced smile. You give him a thumbs up as he scoffs, he watches carefully as you pull out your phone and type away. His eyes never leave you until you place your phone, screen side up against the clear glass divider. Green eyes squinting as he reads away:

‘don’t worry. You got the next goal. I know it!’

That sentence alone makes his heart swell. Damian takes off his right gloves and pats his chest—right where his heart would be two times. A way of saying he appreciate the small gesture.

You take your phone off the glass and erase the previous sentence replacing it with a new one—placing it back on the glass: ‘Have a plan for when you get back on the ice? He quickly reads and nods his head. At least he has a plan, you thought and place your phone back in your pocket. Hands shaking for the cold and lack of warmth you had for them considering the fact that you had forgotten your mittens at home. You focus your attention back on the game. The opposite team ahead by one point— but Damian’s team can do good without him for a while.

He’s out for about half of the game until his coach decides to replace him with another one of his teammates. He taps on the glass to get your attention and once he has it, he Winks at you before making his way back on the ice.

“So are they losing or what?” A familiar voice says beside you and you turn your head, Jason takes his seat next to you with two cups in his hand. “Where the hell have you been?”

“The line for hot chocolate got long” he hands you one “I got you one too, know you stressing over the Demon playing Disney on ice right now” the warm drink warms up your hands a little.

“Thanks. That’s nice of you Jason” You ignore the comment and he hums before he takes a sip of his one drink, eyes scanning the ice before he yells out with the audience. Someone from the Damian team made a shot and they’re tied with the other team.

You go back to cheering him on, the warm drink soothing your throat from all the yelling earlier. It’s later forgotten as you place the half empty cup on the ground right beside your foot— watching the minutes pass by quickly like seconds.

Your heart skips a beat, and not in a good way when the other team shoots their shot but thankfully they fail. With time becoming shorter and shorter it was only a matter of time before Damian took matters into his own hands and his teammates are quick to learn to stay out of it when the time was cutting short and they were off by a point or two, or in this case tied, They had faith in him and so did you.

The seat is now cold from your absence, you’re up on your feet cheering and screaming right along with his brothers who seem to be cheering louder than you. Your eyes glued to Damian as you try to keep up with his figure. He has the puck, sliding it back and forth against the curve of his stick once more.

You don’t have time to think—especially when his helmet makes a horrible sound right up against the clear barrier as one of the players from the opposite team slams into him harshly. Right in front of you as you flinch back. Cheering can be heard from the opposite side of the ice rink which is where the other team supporters were.

Your side falls silent, few gasps and murmurs could be heard. Damian’s back up on his feet, his gloved fist pressed up against the clear barrier. His eyes locked on yours with a glint of mischief and something else. One of those grins grace his lips, one that makes you smile as he waved at you before he leaves.

He’s much faster this time and it makes you think if he was slacking off all this time—or maybe it was the adrenaline that runs high in his veins with these last few minutes. He was going to make a goal, dedicating it to you. Your body feels warm and your heart skips.

“ Ohh~ I know that look” Jason teases from beside you, Dick and Tim are leaning down giving you cheeky grins.

You roll your eyes trying to hide the smile that tries to form itself on your lips “I don’t know what you mean.” You play stupid as you glance back at the game.

fifty seconds left of the last game, everyone seemed to be cheering and calling out those who were on the ice. Damian pays no mind to his teammates as they let him do what he needs to do. You cheer for him, calling out his name. Despite there being hundreds of others yelling out at the same time his mind blocks them out, every single one of them but you. they get louder the minute he gets ahold of the puck swiftly, quickly making his way to the goalie.

His main priority was to get the puck around the goaltender and into the net. He was doing this all for you and you knew that. Those fifty seconds go by quickly, as if you’ve blinked and when you open your eyes ten seconds we’re now left. Everyone counted down, even you. It felt like time went slower once it hit that five second mark, you’ve quiet yourself down and the only thing you can hear is the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You watch Damian has he left up his stick and takes a hit.

Pointing and loud gasp could be seen and heard, half of the ice rink goes quiet—as if the loudness would mess up his plan. Right as the Puck glides under the goaltender and into the net the timer makes a sound—indicating that the game is now over and Damian scores a point, officially breaking the tie. Relief washes over you, hands thrown in the air as a yell of excitement leaves you as Damian’s brothers cheer alongside you. The other side slouches, defeated as your side basically rubs it in their fasts by how loud they were being, but you didn’t care.

A win is a win.

You can see Damian, as he is pulled into a group hug by the rest of his team, some patting his pack and some patting his helmet and shoving it gently as a gesture. The part you don’t notice is him escaping from the group and skating to the Net where he had thrown the puck before he picked it up, waving it in the air like some sort of trophy—however, in this context, it was. He shows it off with pride, making his way towards you.

With a loud yelp you’re picked up by the others, Jason, Dick, and Tim, as they lift you up until you're basically above the spectating glass. Your lover stands below on the other side with his arm stretched out high, he waits. With the help of the others, they hold on to you as you lean done and over the glass.

Your own arm stretches down as you grasp the puck in your hand. His gloves are now off and so is his helmet, his hair pointing in all directions much like earlier when he was away on a penalty, his warm hand grasping yours with the puck still in your hand

“I did that just for you, habibti!” Eyes glistening, you Can’t really tell if it’s from his sweat or his love for you.

“I know!” You laugh “I love you!”

“And I too, love you!” The crowd fills itself with loud cheers and small ‘awes’, watching the sight of the son that belonged to billionaire Bruce Wayne was a rare sight to see, considering how he would rather keep private about his relationship with you.

His warm lips connected to the coldness of your knuckles , making a mental note to bring an extra pair of gloves just for you in the future.

“If you lean down further you’re going to eat shit”

“shush I’m having a moment here”

“just saying”

Tried to make it as accurate as possible bc, again I know nothing about ice hockey. I had googled the rules and watched videos

And god knows how many references pictures I tried to find about hockey. Probably spend like an hour trying to find them just to draw Damian :|

I will be taking a short break from writing requests just bc school is starting in like a few days or so. So I can get my life together and actually have time to mentally prepare myself and fix my schedule seeing as I’ve been up most night until 6 am and waking up at 2pm.

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian scenarios #hockey player!damian wayne

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goldenraeofsun · 1 month

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“Jesus Christ, would you mind not dying while I’m eating my lunch?”

Dick wakes up with a pounding head and aching ribs. “What?”

“Oh, you’re actually awake.”

Dick forces his eyes open. Jason’s less than charming face swims into view, one cheek bulging with food. Above Jason is an unfamiliar popcorn ceiling lightly streaked with yellow – no doubt a product of Jason’s stress habit of chain smoking.

Huh, Jason is actually eating lunch right now, Dick did hear that right.

“And don’t move.” Jason swallows. “I just stitched you up, and if you bleed on my couch, I’m gonna kill you for real.”

Dick moves to sit up, ignoring Jason’s squawk of offense. “I’d be surprised if any piece of furniture in your place doesn’t already have some blood on it,” he points out, breathing heavily as his ribs ache in protest.

“Yeah, but it’s my blood.” Jason sits back, eyeing him critically.

Dick levels him a flat glare. “I don’t have cooties, Jay.”

Jason reaches behind him and snags a plate with what looks like a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Says you.” He takes another bite. “I was going to have fresh tuna with dill and red onion slathered with black garlic aioli on house-baked sourdough at that new cafe that charges you for bailing on your reservation, but somebody had to get shot up around the corner with no fucking backup at noon on a Saturday.”

Dick winces. “I thought backup was coming.”

He had pinged Tim on the comms that he should suit up in case things got rough. And Tim had responded… by pinging Jason.

Not Dick’s finest hour.

Especially because he’d done a double take at the sight of Jason’s shiny red helmet instead of Tim’s tired grin and gotten himself stabbed in that half second of distraction.

“In case the World’s Second Best Detective didn’t put it together,” Jason continues waspishly, “Tim was not joking when he told you he sprained his wrist doing a hula hoop trick.”

Yes, Dick eventually caught on. Jason didn’t make it easy, though. Instead of spewing his usual growled quips during the fight, he went on a Mad Libs style rant about tuna, hula hoops, and the merits of fratricide. Dick finally got what he was saying just as he was passing out.

On a related note, Dick also might be dealing with a mild concussion.

Dick flails. “I mean, would you have believed that hula hoop story?”

“Totally,” Jason says at once. “That bullshit sounds exactly like TimTam.”

Dick sighs heavily and resists the urge to brood on his failure to foster a better relationship between Jason and Tim. “You don’t even know him. Not really.”

Because Jason, like Tim, like every Robin who put on the cape and colors, was notoriously stubborn. And once Jason decided he didn’t want to get to know Tim even after the pit rage had settled, Dick has been having a hell of a time changing his mind.

“Sure I know him,” Jason argues. “Yay high,” he gestures somewhere around his knees, “stole my name and outfit twice, has a shrine dedicated to you in the back of his closet.”

Dick blinks in surprise. “A what?”

“You didn’t know about that?” Jason says innocently. “He has like a dozen pictures of you and the old man in your glory days.”

Dick grimaces. “I stopped being Robin at eighteen.”

“Yeah,” Jason polishes off the first half of his sandwich, “sucks to peak early, doesn’t it?”

Dick almost laughs but remembers his ribs just in time. Instead, he schools his face into something resembling a frown. “You’re such an ass.”

“An ass who saved your life,” Jason says. “Careful. I can yank those stitches right back out, you know.”

Dick settles back on the couch, craning his neck to inspect Jason’s patch job. A neat pad of gauze hides the deep knife wound on Dick’s bicep, and a soothing cream covers the large bruise taking up valuable real estate on the right side of his torso. He scans the window behind him, trying to gauge how long he was out of it, but the downtown Gotham smog covers most of the view in a grayish sepia tone. “What time is it?”

“A little after three,” Jason says as he takes another bite.

Dick’s stomach rumbles.

Jason stiffens. “Oh no,” he says, his eyes narrowing, “I’m not playing nursemaid and chef. Find your own lunch.”

“But I’m injured,” Dick says piteously as he makes his eyes as round as possible.

Jason remains unfazed and finally proves he left half his heart in the Lazarus pit along with his scrawny teenage muscles. “You should’ve thought of that before you interrupted my real lunch.”

Dick’s gaze slides from Jason’s face to the last half of his peanut butter and jelly, considering. He has definitely had worse in the med bay post-patrol. Bruce’s preferred brand of protein bars still makes him gag a little bit.

As Jason tracks his gaze, his frown deepens. “No, Dick,” he says sternly, like he’s speaking to a misbehaving golden retriever.

“But Jay –”

Jason crams the whole thing into his mouth. “’u wan’ it? Come ’n get it,” he says, spewing half chewed crumbs all over Dick’s starving, coalescing body.

Dick recoils. His little brother is such a jackass. Tim would never treat him this way.

“I hate you,” Dick calls as Jason gets up.

“That’s an odd way of saying you owe me, Dickface,” Jason says over his shoulder as he heads into the kitchen. “Specifically, twenty four dollars for that sandwich.”

“Seriously?” Dick’s mouth falls open. “That’s outrageous!”

“Funny, that’s what I was thinking the entire time I was saving your ass.”

“For one sandwich?”

“I have a little thing called taste,” Jason calls over the sound of running water. “You could get some, someday.”

“I have a little thing called common sense,” Dick grumbles, “and I’m pretty sure I just saved you from being conned by a sandwich.”

If it’s three in the afternoon, then by the time he gets back to the Manor, it will be nearly four. Alfred will make him stay for dinner, which is fine; there’s nothing better than a homemade dinner after the day he’s had. But Alfred also has a strict no-snacks-before-dinner rule, so Dick won’t get to eat for another four hours at the earliest. He really shouldn’t have skipped breakfast this morning –

A brand new, unchewed PB&J gets shoved in front of his face. Dick beams up at his favorite little brother.

“I’m adding it to your tab,” Jason says sourly.

#batfam #batfam fanfic #jason todd #dick grayson #dick grayson fanfic #jason todd fanfic #rae writes fic

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ragnarokhound · 7 months

Note

22 from the prompt list? if you want to, of course.

Thanks for the prompt, anon! <3

22. “They won’t take you away from me ever again.”

Jaytim; established relationship; warning for brief description of eye trauma (not serious)

The first thing Jason does is check his pulse.

When he feels fluttering life under his fingertips and marks the shallow rise and fall of his chest, some of the anger collapses into jittery relief.

Some.

Tim's face is bloody and bruised, his cheek swelling purple under his mask. There are electrical burns on his uniform— they must have gotten creative when they couldn't get him fully out of the costume. He's trussed up, his bare hands bound and hanging from a meat hook in the center of the dank, round cell. Seeing it, Jason would like to return to the floor above them and cash in every cent of good will he's earned with the bats.

But the toes of Tim's boots barely brush the floor, and instead of giving in to murderous impulse, the second thing Jason does is hoist an arm around his waist to take the weight off of his shoulders.

When he does, Tim gasps, a wounded sound that nearly sends Jason right over the edge.

"You know," Jason says through gritted teeth as he saws through the ropes, his jovial tone sounding strained even to himself. "This is a pretty needlessly convoluted way to get out of doing dishes. Do we need to rethink the chore wheel?"

The last of the straps around Tim's wrists give way with a snap. Tim's strangled cry is loud in his ear, and Jason grunts as he bears Tim down to the floor.

"Because you can just ask if you want to rethink the chore wheel."

He runs through the checklist— spine: intact; head injury: negative. Unless you count the black eye and the split lip and—

Baby blues peer out at him from narrow slits. His pupils are mismatched; possible concussion but a drug is also likely, and the white of one eye is nearly consumed by bloody red. They're the prettiest thing Jason's seen all night.

"...H'd?"

"Yeah," he says roughly. "I've got you, babybird. I'm here."

"Tal'ns. Mayor's off'ce. Midnight."

God. Even beaten half to death and drugged out of his mind, Tim still has the wherewithal to deliver cryptic warnings. Jason might swoon. And they say romance is dead.

"I hear ya. Don't worry— it's taken care of."

It was the last transmission they received from Red Robin, before he cut out. There had been arguing in his comm for all of five seconds before the roar of Jason's bike drowned it out.

"Mm. 'kay." Tim blinks, and flops a hand to Jason's wrist. Aside from some scratches and chipped nails, his fingers are miraculously intact. He clasps their hands together.

"C'n we go home?"

Jason's chest clenches.

“Yeah. Yeah we can."

He pulls Tim to his feet, then into his arms when he can't stand. He walks them out the way he came.

Ten steps down the corridor, Tim jerks in his hold.

"Talons— the mayor—"

Jason shushes him.

"Hey, hey. You already told me. We've got it."

"But—"

"It's being dealt with. We'll get them. And they won’t take you away from me. Ever again.”

The last part slips out without Jason's permission, tight from his throat. Tim only sighs and turns his face into Jason's neck. Jason takes them home.

It's an empty promise. Not because he won't try to keep it, but because there's no way to guarantee it and they both know it. The Court has its scrawny little claws in every crack and crevice of Gotham, and there's no telling who's behind every mask.

The streets would run red and he'd lose Tim anyway.

#thanks for the prompt anon <3 #had to physically stop myself from sticking a bomb in the room with them lmao #jaytim #my writing #anon #asked and answered #prompt game #writing prompt

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ashoss · 19 days

Note

Hii!! This is waterunderthebridge12, I just stumbled across your art of The Robin Declaration and it made my entire week <3333. I love Duke so much and I'm so glad there are others who love him too!!! I would love if you dropped your Duke-centric fic recs, I've only read a few good ones (that aren't just him being an outsider) so any recs are appreciated!

oh my god! hii! im so glad u liked the silly little doodle lol i would love to do an actual drawing for either The Robin Generation or the Robin Declaration !! they were such fun reads and i absolutely adored the way you portrayed all of them <33

unfortunately i dont really have a lot of duke-centric fics but i have a couple!

WHEN EARTH FINDS STARS. by orpheusaki

duke & jason, pre-WAR and signal

15.8k words, 4 chapters (unfinished)

"Let it be known that I completely detest the implications of what this situation is mirroring," Red Hood grumbles to himself and it's the longest string of words Duke has heard from any so-called Gotham vigilante, let alone the one who's known for shooting more than he is talking. "The fuck?" Duke mutters, because if he's already going to die, he might as well try and make sense of it. "I'm not going to care about whatever sob story you have," is what Red Hood replies with instead of explaining, "Where are your parents?" "Gone," is all Duke says, because it's really none of this guy's business. It's also the truth. Somehow, Red Hood sounds even more anguished about this information than Duke is, "Ah shit." (Duke steals the tires off Red Hood's bike and somehow gains a family.)

YOU HEAR ITS SONG FROM THE MORNING BIRDS. (series) by orpheusaki

duke & bruce, duke & batfam

9k words, 3 words (unfinished)

A series of Duke Thomas centric works, mostly featuring his growing relationship with his new kind-of-dad-boss-friend, Bruce Wayne.

Keep Your Head, Your Backbone, and Your Heart by MrMich

duke & tim, alfred, bruce

54k words, 6 chapters

The last thing that Duke expected on what was supposed to be just a regular patrol was being suddenly thrown five years into the past, coming face to face with a darker, more violent Batman than the one he knew, a broken family, and a Tim who was a foot shorter than Duke, and not even Robin yet.

A silent shadow flitted past him, just barely visible on the cave walls. He went rigid, tracking the shadow in the corner of his vision. And then he dropped to the floor, just in time, as a familiar black gloved fist passed overhead. He just barely missed being hit by the punishing blow that would have landed right on his temple for a sure concussion if he hadn’t dodged. “Batman?” Duke yelled. He somersaulted forward, just barely avoiding another strike. “B, what are you doing?!” “Who are you,” came the growled response. A shiver crawled down Duke’s spine at the grim hostility in Batman’s voice that promised violence, and something tightened in the back of his throat.

Family-- by incorrectbatfam

duke & batfam

3.3k words, 1 chapter

“Your assignment over the weekend is to write a poem about your family.”

Strange Bedfellows by snackbaskets

duke & steph & jason

2.7k words, 1 chapter

Little known fact about bats: they're AWFUL at sleeping alone. At least, the ones in the Manor seem to be, if the half-conscious kind-of-maybe siblings using Duke as a body pillow are any indication. When did he sign up for this?

Ghosts Of The Past by PlatitudinalTeen

duke & martha, thomas, duke & bruce

7.2k words, 1 chapter

Shortly after moving into Wayne manor, Duke discovers he can commune with the dead when his grandparents, Thomas and Martha Wayne begin to accidentally haunt him. ------- "No powers?" Duke repeated, even more confused as he tried to recall everything he had ever heard about Ghosts. "So, you can't possess anyone or make the lights flicker? What about telekinesis and all the other scary stuff from the books and movies?" "Those things can only be achieved by malicious spirits, dear," Martha told him. "We may be ghosts, but we aren't vengeful." They had made peace with their deaths, and even if they were still tied to the manor, it was exactly where they wanted to be. Thomas chuckled. "Yes, that's more of our son's department," he quipped, using his fingers to mimic Batman's ears. "Vengeance is a young man's game, really."

Starshine by zodarii_dae

duke & bruce, reverse robins

3.6k words, 1 chapter

Duke Thomas is a Gothamite, through and through. There’s not a lot he knows for certain, but he knows that the bagels are great, that Bruce Wayne is stupid rich, and that Batman will always protect him. That’s just how it is. So when Batman promises to bring him to his family, he believes him. Neither of them expected it to happen quite the way it did, but it all works out for the best. Or How Duke loses his parents, gains a new family, and becomes a vigilante- in that order, with some stuff in between.

necessary reminders by Quillium

duke & batfam

5.2k words, 1 chapter

Duke, as Signal becomes known and as Duke becomes part of the Wayne family.

*ao3 acc needed

hope you enjoy !!!

#there is a severe lack of duke content and it makes me really sad #duke thomas #fic recs #long post #ashbox

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the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake · 2 months

Text

Just a Kid Next Door - Chapter 2

Bruce is finally back from being stuck in the time stream. Tim managed to save Batman and his loved ones. Now it is time for Tim to go home and rest. But the problem is that, Tim has no home. Or that's what he thinks so.

This will be a multichapter fic on how did Tim reconcile with his family. It will be full of angst, family feels and family shenanigans.

Masterlist

Here in the link to read the story in ao3.

-------------------------------CHAPTER 2---------------------------------

The first thing Bruce sees after opening his eyes is a flash of blinding light, followed by a very blurry face. The person had black hair and light eyes and was calling out his name, that too in a very panicked voice.

His first instinct was to become alert. Even in his dizzy state, he tried his best to observe and analyze his surroundings.

It took Bruce a minute to realize that the person in front of him is his son. The person is one of his kids from his brood of children.

But Bruce was not able to figure out which one though. It was maybe due to his very blurry eyesight or his very concussed head, he concluded.

One of his hand reached out to touch his son’s face. He might not be able to see clearly to find which one of his kid is in front of him, but he could definitely find out through touch.

He first touched his kid’s face and then went to feel his shoulder.

‘Mm, Too fair to be Duke, little shorter and eyes too blue to be Jason, too tall to be Damian and too built to be Tim. Oh, it must be Dick.” he finally concluded.

Bruce and Batman are two different people.

Batman is a powerful vigilante. He channels his grief and pain into protecting his city, Gotham. He’s a master of countless disciplines and he strike fear into the heart of criminals to bring them to justice.

But Bruce is first and foremost, a Father. Bruce Wayne, the Gotham’s prince (not a Prince any more though), the billionaire playboy and philanthropist is a Father. His first priority will always be his Family. His family is the most important thing to him, whether biological or chosen.

And in this moment, he was not Batman. He was just Bruce. A Father.

Bruce missed his kids so much. He still don’t know how many days or even months he had actually missed, but he’s more than glad that he is back. He is not going to let any of his kids and Alfred out of his sight for the next few days.

He then heard Dick’s voice, rough, like he’s been crying for quite some time now.

“Shit, B. You woke up. Do you- you want me to call anyone, like – like, shit …um like Clark or someone. Wait B, um…lemme”

‘Huh, he sounds very strange.’ he thought.

Suddenly he feels a hand under his head and sees a thumb and a forefinger opening his eyes wider. He then realized that he’s being checked for concussion.

“Oh, you are definitely concussed.”

“Grn” he groaned.

He reached out and embraced his kid. He don’t want to miss anymore of his time by waiting. He is going to smother all his kids with hugs until they put up a fight with him.

Dick went still for a few seconds. And then he started to weep, his whole body wracked by sobs.

As much he tries to be a good parent, Bruce is never really the one for dealing with emotions in a healthy manner. And he will never forgive himself for passing on that trait to his children, because his children rarely cried to cope up with feelings. Hence Dick’s sudden outburst threw Bruce off guard.

“Oh, I-I missed y-you so much B, please don’t ever leave us ever again. Don’t leave me al-alone, please. Everyone thought you died, Bruce.” His whole body was shaking.

Bruce’s heart ached. Each of his kid’s sob was like a dagger piercing his heart. Bruce never wished for his children to go through the same trauma he did as a kid when his parents died. And yet, here he is.

“But I didn’t be-believe them. I somehow knew you were alive. I-I never stopped searching for you”

Bruce hugged him even harder. He knew his children were smart, but he was doubtful that they would find out the minuscule clues he left and put two and two together.

But he had hoped.

He never lost hope in his family. He knew they would eventually save him.

And he is proud that he wasn’t wrong.

Dick was now quiet, but Bruce can still feel him crying.

“It’s okay chum, don’t worry. I’m here and I’m not going to leave you alone, sweetheart. Never.” said Bruce, his voice sounding foreign to himself.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Hm-mm, I’m going to bore you all with my facts about dinosaurs. You are going to love every minute of it.” He chided.

Dick let out a hearty chuckle. Bruce was glad to have elevated the mood.

They were occupied by comfortable silence for the next few minutes, Bruce lying on the med bay bed with Dick’s head on his chest and his arms embracing the boy. He felt dizzy, and his eyes started to droop due to his tiredness.

“You are my son, Dick. I’m never going to leave you alone. Never.” He murmured, before falling into deep slumber.

What he failed to notice before going to sleep was, Tim going very still, almost still like a rock.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rain pounded the streets of Gotham. The flooded sewers and subways forced the residents to walk in the rain, soaking wet. The Bat Signal almost invisible due to the cloudburst.

Gotham is a busy city. Social workers working days to fix the city, young CEOs and entrepreneurs walking hurriedly in the crack of dawn and the elites from the nicer parts of the town attending Galas after Galas to keep up their appearances and earn fortunes.

But the City is extremely busy at nights though. Stealth bodies clad in darker shades of Kevlar and spandex can be seen jumping from building to building, fighting rouges and lurking in the shadows, protecting the city.

But nights like these makes it extremely difficult to do their job. Along with the rain came the criminals.

Gotham is a busy City. Not even the dangerous calamities stopped the rogues in the slightest.

That’s why the Batman and the newest Robin can be seen launching their fists and using their acrobatic skills to fight the Penguin and his men

“You cannot catch me, Batman” Oswald snickered. He used his bladed Umbrella to fight against Batman

The Robin was using his Katana to block the blows while performing various impressive fighting techniques thought by the league to fight the Penguin’s men. They stood no chance against the young warrior.

Batman leaped from rooftop to rooftop while throwing his Batrangs at The Penguin, which he was able to block with his shield like umbrella.

The sound of bullet being fired dominated the swishing sounds of cape and the men’s grunts of pain. Many lost their stance and put down their weapon due to the sudden gunshot. Batman used this distraction to jump on Oswald and knock him down.

From out of the shadows emerged a built figure, clad in dark grey Kevlar, brown leather jacket and a very contrasting red helmet which hid the vigilante's entire face, pointing one of his many guns to the sky. The red Bat symbol on his chest glimmering due to droplets of rain.

“I thought you stopped killing” gruffed Batman.

“Aw, you’re welcome, Goldie. I will save you at any given chance. And, don’t be narcissistic. It’s a rubber bullet. And I did not shoot anyone by the way.” The Red Hood replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“tt, you did nothing Hood.” Robin came and stood next to the Batman after tying up the men for the officers.

“Be grateful, Gremlin”

“tt” Robin tutted, shaking his head.

“What are you doing here anyways, Hood? I thought Crime alley is your area.” Batman asked, wiping off the blood from his lips.

“Surprise, seems like our cases are connected after all. I had an intel that Penguin and Black mask are working on some shady stuff together”

“Oh” came out of Dick’s mouth.

Their conversation was interrupted by sudden swoosh of wind. This alerted the three to jump into their fighting stance.

“Fucking hell, Superman. You could have warned us it was just you.” Said Red Hood, relaxing.

“Sorry, but I have an important news.” Replied Superman, eyeing the three of them carefully.

“Batman is back. We saved him from time stream. Wonder Woman and Flash managed to bring him back to the Batcave.”

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blenderfullasarcasm · 11 months

Note

TimKon fanfic starter/prompt:

Kon woke up, immediately whacked his head on <i>something</i>- he wasn't at the farm, but it took him a few more seconds to remember where exactly he was.

Which was kind of excessive, because it really shouldn't have taken him three whole seconds to figure out he was in a cramped metal box, hands tied behind his back and a glowing green collar around his neck.

Was this what a concussion felt like?

Weird.

He was gonna have to be nicer about shooting down the questionable plans Tim came up with while concussed. Honestly, it was a miracle they were even a little bit coherent.

...What was he doing again?

Kon shifted slightly, and the ropes binding his hands behind his back dug into his wrists.

Oh, that's right. He was trying to escape --

...Wait, they'd actually used ropes? Like, actual ropes?

Kon was a little insulted. He didn't rate handcuffs or zip ties?

He might not have been able to use his superstrength, but he was still pretty strong compared to a baseline human. Ropes -- even ones with five braided strands -- couldn't hold him forever, especially now that he was awake and raring to escape.

...If only he could get his body to cooperate.

His brain felt sluggish and foggy, like it was slogging through a swamp. His limbs weren't responding right, his fingers clumsy and numb as he tried to finagle his way out of his bonds.

Precise movements weren't happening, so he had approximately a cupcake's chance in a communal kitchen of untying the knots.

Next option: brute force.

Yanking his wrists apart and straining the ropes until they broke worked way better than trying to make his fingers cooperate. It took more effort than he was expecting, though, and there was a sting in his biceps that meant he'd probably pulled a muscle, which was going to suck in the morning.

He also had rope burns, which was a new and exciting experience for him.

Some of the fog surrounding his brain started to fade as soon as the ropes snapped and dropped to the floor beneath him. He shook his hands out, aiming some jazz hands at exactly no one just for fun, and tried to figure out what do next.

The walls around him were made of metal and seem to be screwed together pretty tightly, as far as he could tell. He didn't have super strength - the Kryptonite in the collar around his neck was suppressing it - but he considered punching it anyway.

Luckily, someone started prying the box open before he had to resort to probably breaking his hand.

Light broke through the widening gap, blinding him for a split second as the lid opened. He squinted and tried to shield his eyes (looked like they'd taken his shades, ugh), and a shadowy figure kindly moved to block most of the light, a set of lock picks dangling from their fingers.

"Hey, SB," Tim said. "How's it going?"

Kon could have kissed him.

"Oh, y’know." He shrugged (faux) casually, folding his arms together so Tim wouldn't see the rope burns around his wrists. "Just waiting for my Prince Charming to show up. What took you so long?"

"Rounding up my knights and the white horse," Tim said dryly, giving him a Look that told Kon he hadn't hidden shit but that Tim wasn't going to comment on it right that second because there was something more important. "Hold still, I'm going to get that collar off you."

"What, you don't think I look good like this?" Kon tried to shoot him a winning smile, but it felt a little shaky around the edges.

Tim rolled his eyes behind his whiteout lenses -- Kon could sense it -- and set to work picking the collar's lock. "You always look good, Superboy."

Kon definitely did not blush. His cheeks heating up had to be an effect of the Kryptonite. Definitely.

"You'll look even better wrapped in a blanket on the couch," Tim muttered under his breath, then tsked in annoyance when something in the collar clicked. "Hold still."

Kon held still.

...Being wrapped in a blanket on the couch sounded pretty good right now, actually. He could probably even wheedle Tim into making him some of his famous hot cocoa.

Tim was careful only to touch the collar, not allowing his gloves to brush against Kon's skin, and Kon was (pathetically) grateful for it. His skin was starting to feel too tight, like he was about ready to burst out of it, and it itched like there were ants crawling all over him.

Something else clicked in the collar, except this time Tim made a little triumphant noise and yanked it apart with extreme prejudice. "Ha! Got it."

Suddenly, Kon felt like he could breathe easy again. He hadn't realized he'd been having trouble -- and he didn't really know why, because the collar hadn't been restrictive or anything and Kryptonite usually didn't affect him that way -- until Tim was tucking it away into a lead-lined bag he kept in his utility belt for this exact purpose.

Kon swallowed.

"Thanks for coming for me, Rob," he said quietly.

Tim smiled, small and private. "I'll always come for you, clone boy."

He got to his feet and pulled Kon up with him, and Kon barely had time to blink with surprise before Tim was dragging him towards a hole that had been blown in the wall. "Come on, we need to find the others before they destroy the entire building."

Send me an ask with the first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write the next five.

#tim drake #conner kent #kon el #timkon #robin #90s superboy #superboy #red robin #yj98 #dcu #batman #wow this got long #adding a read more #tumblr ask game #anon

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bewitched-forest · 1 year

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The Rebirth of Tim Drake - Ch 2

Tim gets turned into a halfa after an incident with a newly spawned Lazarus Pit, electricity, and Ra's Al Ghul. When he awakens, he finds himself in the Ghost Zone. Taken to fellow Halfa, Danny Fenton, he travels to Amity Park where he learns with the help of Danny and his friends just what he has become. And how being a Halfa has made him one of the most hunted beings in the world.

[Ao3 Link Here]

} ~ – ~ { } ~ – ~ {

Tim wakes up in a strange ice cave, with a giant... is that a yeti?! Why is a yeti taking care of him?! What's going on?!

} ~ – ~ { } ~ – ~ {

When Tim awoke this time, he was met with fluff. Criminally soft, fluffy blankets. And warmth. Heavenly warmth. Tim groaned, sitting up and rubbing his head. Within seconds, Tim heard the sound of a door opening.

His jaw dropped as a massive Yeti walked in through giant wooden doors. One arm seemed to be made of ice, though it moved like another limb. He was massive! Even bigger than the metal man from before.

The Yeti smiled when it noticed Tim. “You’re awake! Good. You narrowly avoided a concussion when Cujo crashed you into our snow banks earlier.”

Tim opened his mouth, trying to say words before closing it again. He repeated it a few times before finally saying something. “What?”

The yeti settled down in a chair next to the bed. “My name is Frostbite. Chief of the Far Frozen, in which you now reside. A few of my tribal members spotted you being dragged by Cujo, the green dog you might recall, before both of you crashed into the snow bank.”

Tim blinked. He was in shock. Or hallucinating. Something! “You’re a yeti.” Great. Super intelligent, Tim.

Frostbite simply laughed, strong and bellowing. It was surprisingly warm, in Tim’s opinion. “Yes I am. Apologies. I forgot you human ghosts would be unaware of my kind.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “Ghost?!”

Frostbite’s expression immediately sullies, staring at Tim intently. “Yes. You are a ghost, young one. Were you not aware?”

“What?! No! I- I can’t be dead! Where am I?! I demand to go home!” Tim threw off the sheets, throwing himself out of the bed onto his feet. He took all about one step before collapsing into the yeti’s arms.

“Oh dear. I’m afraid that is not possible, young one. I’m so sorry to inform you, but you are dead. You died and became a ghost.”

“No I can’t be dead! I was- I was fighting with my family. We were doing a job! I got hurt yeah but I- I didn’t die! I’m here aren’t I?!” Tim hurried out, trying to fight against the massive arms.

Frostbite grabbed him by his shoulders, looking into Tim’s face. “Listen for a moment, please. Listen for a heartbeat. Surely, in your panicked state, you would be able to hear it, wouldn’t you?”

Tim froze. Frostbite was right. He should hear a heartbeat right now. It should be pounded in his head, causing the veins in his forehead to pulse. But instead, Tim heard nothing.

Nothing.

Tim collapsed, eyes widened as tears poured. He… He had no heartbeat. He… He was dead. Tim barely noticed the giant arms wrapping around him, hugging him tightly as he sobbed.

} ~ – ~ {

When Tim finally calmed down, he let himself be sat back in the bed by the yeti. He just felt numb, at that moment.

Absent-mindedly, Tim notices the yeti stepping away, before a fluffy blanket is dropped around his shoulders. The yeti steps back in front of him, wrapping the blanket around.

“I wish to give you a moment to grieve, little one, but I’m afraid we must talk about you being a ghost,” said Frostbite.

Tim blinked, looking up at Frostbite through his blurry eyes. “What?”

Frostbite frowned down at Tim. “You see, young one, when ghosts are made, they are inherently made with the knowledge they are dead. And of the powers they now possess. Considering you did not attempt to fly when you tried to get out of bed, nor seemed to notice your foot turning intangible and caused you to trip, it is of my belief you do not have this knowledge.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “What do you mean powers?!”

Frostbite hummed. “Ghosts have a number of powers. New ones, such as yourself, should only have access to the basics for now though. Invisibility, intangibility, and flight. You should develop more in the next few weeks, but those are the basic ones we all start with.”

Tim sat with the revelation, staring at Frostbite in shock. The yeti, thankfully, gave Tim a moment to process before he continued.

“Like I said, you should have this knowledge already. But you don’t. I do not know why, but I wish to help. We have a state of the art medical facility here in Far Frozen, and I would like to give you a check up to see if, maybe, we could discover the cause.”

Tim blinks. “Okay… Thank you. For trying to help.”

Frostbite smiled warmly. “Of course. Now, before we continue, what is your name? I never asked.”

“Oh. Tim. Tim Drake,” he replied. He probably shouldn’t be outing himself while actively in his Red Robin suit, even with its colors all out of whack, but Tim figured a Yeti probably wouldn’t recognize him.

“Well then, Tim. Let’s get you to the facility.” Tim yelped as the Yeti picked him up, not expecting it. Then, suddenly he dropped, hitting the floor. He groaned, sitting up and wincing at the pain.

He yelped as he looked at himself. He looked different again! His colors were back to normal!

“Well,” started Frostbite, causing him to look up, “I do believe I have my answer as to why you are unaware of your ghostliness.”

Tim balked. “What do you mean?”

“It appears I was wrong, before. About your death. It appears, young Tim, you have become something very unique. A halfa.”

“A halfa?”

Tim watches as Frostbite crouches down. “Yes, a halfa. It means you are half alive, half dead. Half human, half ghost.”

Tim opens his mouth before closing it again. “How?”

“That, I’m afraid, I do not know. The how and why halfas come to be largely unknown. In large part due to their rarity. Currently, there are only 4 halfas in existence, including you of course.”

Tim blinks. “Who are the others?”

“The Phantom siblings, as well as another named Plasmius. Plasmius is a horrid man, he will not help you. However, I’m sure the Great One, Danny Phantom, might provide you aid. I will send one of my brethren for him. In the meantime, let me teach you about your ghost half. What I can.”

Tim gulps, nodding. Honestly, it would probably be better right now to shut up and listen. After being helped up, Tim sits back down on the bed and listens as Frostbite tells him of where he is.

} ~ – ~ { } ~ – ~ {

Also sorry for the person who said they wanted me tag them! I really tried but tumblr just wasn’t giving me your profile to tag you. T^T

#the rebirth of tim drake #batman #danny phantom #batman x danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #tim drake #red robin #danny fenton #tim drake x danny fenton #red robin x danny phantom #halfa tim drake au #joker jr is canon #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff

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cephalog0d · 8 months

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Whumptober 2023 - Day 2 - "My Pride Comes After A Fall"

Rating: Mature (swearing, violence)

Category: Gen

Characters/Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake; mentioned Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: Stephanie Brown-centric, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, (roughly early preboot Spoiler to be specific), Tim Drake is Robin, (Steph doesn't know that yet), Whumptober 2023, Explosions, Drowning, Hypothermia, Concussions, Insecurity, Hurt/Comfort, (at least a little comfort)

Summary:

Gotham City would be radically improved, in Stephanie Brown’s opinion, if it was about ten million percent harder for every random citizen to get their hands on explosives.

A night of simple surveillance goes up in flames (literally) and quickly becomes deadly. As a mostly-brand new and mostly-unsanctioned crime fighter, Spoiler is on her own to get out of it.

Day 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

Uh, welcome to Whumptober? A wildly different tone of writing than literally everything else I've shared here! I hope you enjoy it anyway! (There's still some humor in here, though. Because deflecting with humor to handle trauma is a Batkid staple.) This is not particularly tied to canon but it is roughly set in the early days of Steph's preboot Spoiler era. Relevant details are that she does not yet know Robin's secret identity and both Robin and Batman (but mostly Batman) have been extremely persistent in trying to stop her from doing the crime fighting thing. Title is from Anchor by Birdeatsbaby, which is a great song and also just generally gives me preboot Steph vibes.

Gotham City would be radically improved, in Stephanie Brown’s opinion, if it was about ten million percent harder for every random citizen to get their hands on explosives.

Tonight was supposed to be some simple surveillance. Just lurking on the rooftop of one of Gotham’s ten thousand waterfront warehouses and listening in on what was afoot between two of Gotham’s aforementioned overly armed citizens. Or, well, criminals, she was pretty sure, given the guns and general tough guy vibe. Wanna-be criminals, maybe, with all the posturing, even lower on the food chain than her dad, but clearly still a threat to Gotham considering, you know, the weaponry. She hadn’t managed to catch enough conversation to figure out exactly what shady business they were up to before one of them (the one wearing wildly unnecessary sunglasses, not the one with a ridiculous fedora) got trigger happy, set off an explosion, and turned her simple surveillance into a parkour run from hell.

One wall and a chunk of both the floor and the roof were obliterated immediately, throwing debris out into the harbor and ripping away support for the remaining part of the building, which rapidly started to crumble into the water after it.

Steph took off at a run the second she got her feet under her, thanking every deity that might exist that she had been perched far enough away from the epicenter that she hadn’t just gotten taken out instantly. It was entirely possible that had happened to the two crooks, given the size of the blast, but frankly she had bigger worries at the moment. She was too busy running for the nearest solid rooftop as fast as she could while dodging the cracks and holes of the rooftop she was currently on breaking apart under her feet.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She vaulted a split in the concrete just as the two sections ripped apart, landing rough on the other side of what was now a gaping chasm. So much for quiet reconnaissance. She hadn’t even screwed anything up; the dipshits with the guns had done that all on their own. Figured. She was going to break an ankle or get impaled by rebar and she hadn’t even done anything to earn it.

Just get to solid ground, and she could regroup and catch her breath.

The gap to the next rooftop was tantalizingly close when a huge crack opened right under her feet. Steph stumbled and lost her footing, dropping into the steadily widening gap and towards the churning water below. She grabbed desperately at the edge, but it crumbled away in her hand. One larger piece clocked her in the forehead hard enough that she saw stars and she lost a precious second of reaction time as she struggled to shrug it off and pull out her grapple. Her throw was more of a wild fling than anything, hoping desperately to grab something solid enough to stop her fall, but if there was anything up there to latch onto she didn’t hit it before she crashed into the harbor

The icy November water punched whatever air she had managed to hold onto out of her lungs and she only barely managed to suppress the reflex to breathe in again. Her cape immediately tangled around her and she clawed at the latch to unhook it and kick it away. The boots she had chosen for their sturdiness now seemed like the worst possible option, like lead weights dragging her down and slowing her movement, but they were too well fitted for her to just kick them off.

She swam as hard as she could in what she desperately hoped was the direction of the surface, her lungs already burning and her limbs rapidly going numb from the cold. The water was pitch black around her and churning with waves and falling debris. Something struck her hard on the shoulder and sent her spinning, ruining whatever sense of “up” she might have had.

Don’t panic, she told herself. Don’t panic don’t panic-

Her lungs were screaming at her to breathe and her teeth were chattering so hard it felt like she might bite her own tongue off. She locked her jaw hard against both reflexes and tried to focus.

Another piece of something rushed past her, dragging a line of fire down her arm for a second before the cold deadened the feeling. She tried to kick herself around so she was facing the direction it had come from, praying it had fallen straight down from the surface, and forced her frozen arms and legs to move.

It was impossible to tell if she was making any kind of progress with how turbulent the water was. It felt like she was going nowhere, just flailing around in the dark and waiting for her reflexes to win out and take a nice big gulp of seawater, or for a piece of concrete to crush her.

When her hand broke the surface she was almost too numb to notice except that the wind somehow, impossibly, made it even colder. With a last desperate kick her head followed and she inhaled without thinking. Instead of air she got a choking lungful of nothing as her wet mask plastered itself to her face. She fumbled frantically with her gloved, frozen fingers to get a grip and peel it off, her head spinning and her vision going gray, and finally managed to rip it free and inhale a huge breath.

She barely got one gasp of actual air before a wave slammed into her and filled her nose and mouth with gritty, salty water, sending her into a coughing fit. She kicked harder and arched her neck in an attempt to keep breathing as the coughs kept coming. Every one tore at her lungs and created a fresh burst of pain in her head and all she wanted to do was stop flailing around and catch her fucking breath.

Which meant she needed to get out of the water, now.

With enormous effort, she turned herself around to face the shore. She must have drifted with the current, or accidentally swam more out than up, because it seemed way too far away from where she was now.

Something in the warehouse was on fire, painting the dark water with red and orange streaks. It was pretty, sort of, like liquid light spilling over the surface.

Another wave hit her square in the face and refocused her a little.

She needed to get out of the water and get warm. It was getting harder to think, and whether that was the cold or the possible concussion it was a very bad sign.

It took way too long to reach the wall, and her focus kept slipping. She was thrown back and forth by the waves as much as she managed to move forward, and she was just so tired. Her teeth had finally stopped chattering so much and all she wanted to do was stop and rest.

Something about that was vaguely alarming, but she wasn’t sure why. Resting was good. It was important to get enough rest, especially for crime fighters. Batman and Robin probably didn’t. Maybe that was why they were so cranky all the damn time.

She was startled by a loud crack as something in the warehouse collapsed, and when she looked up she realized she was finally close to the edge of the building. Right. Get out of the water. Then she could rest. That made sense.

There was a chunk of the wall that had crumbled close enough to the waterline that she could reach it as a handhold. It still took a couple of tries for her to grab hold and actually hang on instead of being pulled away by the motion of the waves.

Up and out. Out of the water. Focus.

She wasn’t sure how long it took to actually pull herself up. She was drifting a little, her mind wandering, and sometimes she came back and realized she was still moving and sometimes she realized she had paused and was just sitting there.

Not good, whispered a little voice. Not good not good. She might have repeated it out loud, but she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t feel her face anymore. She wished the cold would extend into her skull and numb the pain there, too. It was kind of bullshit that everything else was frozen but her brain still hurt.

She made it as far as the outer wall of the warehouse, part of it that was still standing, before she couldn’t make herself move any further. She collapsed propped up against the soot-covered concrete. The fire was further inside what remained of the building, but she thought she could feel some of the heat from it. Clumsily, she yanked off her glove and reached out a hand.

She wasn’t shivering much anymore, so it must be warmer. That was good. She was too tired to do anything else, and her head felt like it was trying to split apart and float away.

Something dark dripped off her elbow and she followed the path of the droplets to a long tear in her sleeve, and a gash in her skin beneath that. She was going to have to fix her suit again. That sucked. She bet Robin never had to worry about fixing his own suit. She bet it would have been warmer and waterproof, too.

She didn’t get fancy suits. All she got was a radio, and it was all wet now. Or maybe she’d lost it? She’d lost her cape, which was a shame. Capes were expensive, and it would’ve been nice to wrap up in it and get warm now that she was out of the water.

With one hand she absently patted around, in case maybe her cape was somewhere nearby. She didn’t find it, but there was a lump in her belt that she pulled out to discover it was a little handheld radio. That was funny, for some reason, but she wasn’t sure why. Water was dripping out of it, and nothing happened when she hit the button, which was also funny.

It wouldn’t have done anything anyway, she thought in a distant sort of way. She wasn’t Robin. Robin’s radio worked to call Batman. Hers just leaked water, like a really weird squirt gun.

She giggled and dropped the radio onto the concrete. Her head didn’t hurt quite so bad anymore, which was nice. She was so tired, and now she could finally rest. She curled her arms and legs in, rested her head on her knees and drifted off watching the fire.

~*~

The first thing Steph was aware of was that her head was pounding. She groaned and tried to shift away from the pain on reflex, only to find she couldn’t really move.

That was concerning enough for her to drag the scattered bits of her awareness back together and attempt to take stock.

She was cold, for one thing. Aside from her pounding head, there was a deep ache in her left forearm, her shoulder, and she was shivering, although she felt something warm against her back and sides. She tried to shift closer to the heat and was once again foiled by whatever was restraining her. It was surprisingly soft, and did yield a little when she tried to push against it, but only a little.

“Don’t squirm too much, you’ll mess up the blankets,” said a voice directly in her ear. She was too tired to really jump, but it definitely startled her.

“Sorry,” the voice said apologetically. “It’s just me. Uh, Robin.”

Well that was...something. Surprising? A relief, maybe. Also kind of embarrassing considering she couldn’t even move. Way to make a good impression, Stephanie.

She tried to ask what had happened, or why Robin was there, or why she was mummified in blankets, apparently, but all that came out was a vague sort of groan.

“Take it easy,” Robin said. “You were in pretty bad shape.”

Something around Steph shifted, moving her a bit more upright, and she realized the source of the heat she could feel was Robin, who was apparently holding her. So yeah, definitely embarrassing. (Kind of nice, considering she hadn’t quite stopped shivering yet and he was pretty warm even through the blankets, but still.)

Steph tried to speak again, had a brief coughing fit that kicked the pain in her head up from “pounding” to “excruciating”, and then took a slow, careful breath and tried again. (God, she had inhaled so much harbor water. She was probably going to get some kind of super-pneumonia with all the shit that was in there, the kind that rotted your lungs or turned you into a sewer mutant or something.)

“Wha’ happen’d,” she managed to mumble out mostly clearly.

“We were hoping you could tell us. When we got there, there was an exploded warehouse, two dead bodies and you almost frozen solid.”

“Stupid ‘splosives. Wasn’ even my fault.”

“Who’s fault was it?” Robin sounded sort of skeptical that Steph wasn’t somehow responsible, which she thought was pretty rude. She certainly hadn’t blown herself up.

“Corey Hart,” she said.

“What?” Robin’s face was somewhere above and behind her, and she still had her eyes closed, but just from his voice Steph could imagine his look of vaguely annoyed confusion all too well. She’d seen it often enough.

“Dumbass in sunglasses,” she clarified. “He shot ‘em on accident. Like a dumbass.” She felt it was important to emphasize the level of dumbassery involved.

“Well. I guess at least we don’t have to worry too much about what they were planning to do with them. What else do you remember?"

“Building collapsed, fell in the water, got back to shore somehow, I guess. Pretty fuzzy.” She must have gotten back to shore somehow if that’s where they found her, but she couldn’t quite remember any of it. Or how they had known to look for her. Had she called them? That didn’t seem right.

“Hypothermia and a concussion will do that,” Robin said. It sounded almost accusing. What, like she had lost her memory on purpose, just to annoy them? Sorry I didn't take notes while I was drowning, she thought.

“You should have called us,” Robin continued, his voice veering rapidly into full on Lecture Mode where he would tell her exactly how she had messed up and what she should have done differently (like he wasn't younger than her, and like she wasn't figuring out most of this on her own anyway) with a heaping helping of “this is why you shouldn't be doing this and we don't take you seriously” on the side.

Cold and tired and with a persistent and painful headache, Steph was even less inclined to put up with it than usual.

“Why, so you could get in one last 'I told you so'?"” she snapped.

“So we could help you, idiot!” he snapped back. His hold on her tightened, maybe on purpose and maybe just on reflex, and Steph discovered it was extremely awkward to get in a fight with someone while they were basically hugging you.

“Do you have any idea how bad it was by the time we found you? And we were only there because of reports of the explosion! You would have frozen to death because, what, you're just too proud to realize you're in over your head and ask for help?”

Steph had an extremely vague and fleeting impression that she had thought about calling, and thought it wouldn't make a difference if she did. She couldn't quite pull an exact memory, but that was, admittedly, not the first or only time that particular line of thought had occurred to her. That they weren't about to drop everything to come rescue someone they had made it clear they didn't want out there anyway.

No way was she giving him any of that ammunition, though.

Lucky, she was also hit with an abrupt and vivid sense memory of clicking the button on her radio and water pouring out the sides.

“Or because I fell in the water and it killed my radio,” she reminded Robin sharply. There was a pause that was probably much shorter than it felt like before he responded.

“Those really need to be waterproof,” he finally conceded. No shit, Steph thought but maturely did not say. The pause this time was exactly as long as it felt before Robin finally broke it.

“Um,” he said; she could feel his fingers fidgeting a bit with the outermost blanket of her burrito. “Sorry if I was-...”

Steph both heard and felt him huff a quick breath and start again.

“We really did think you might be dead, at first,” he continued in a much softer voice. “You weren't responding at all and there was blood all over your face and on the ground from your arm. That wasn't actually as bad as it looked, you definitely have a concussion, but the hypothermia was…bad.”

Well when he put it like that…

“Thus the medically necessary snuggling?” she asked, deliberately choosing the cutsiest word she could think off of the top of her head. She still couldn't see Robin's face from her angle but she did feel him shift a bit in a shrug and hoped it was because he was also kind of embarrassed about the situation. It wasn't fair for it to be just her.

“We needed to warm you up, like, a lot," he explained rather unnecessarily. "I can always go get Batman if you’d rather cuddle with him.”

“Gross.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re the lesser of two grosses,” she declared magnanimously.

“Thanks?”

“You're welcome.”

(Maybe Robin was right about helping her if she needed it. She wasn't fully convinced, and she probably wouldn't be until it was actually tested and proven, but as she finally stopped shivering and drifted off into proper sleep it was a nice thought to hold onto.)

Notes: Later, when Steph's brain is fully online again, she'll get to have the fun of making an entire Cave full of Batfolk deeply uncomfortable by very casually asking who's responsible for getting her out of her wet costume. (Because the best way to handle being embarrassed about something is to get everyone else on the same level. I don't think Steph is actually upset about the situation because, you know, medical emergency, but that doesn't mean she's not going to push their buttons about it a lil bit.) (Me, writing: "Hmm, should I include this 80's music joke? Eh, this is sort of set in the 90's, I'm doing it anyway.")

#whumptober 2023 #no.2 #thermometer #delirium #batman #fic #drowning tw #hypothermia #stephanie brown #spoiler #tim drake #robin #(mostly it's about steph tho)#ceph writes things

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sevengraces · 8 months

Text

someday I'm gonna be somebody people want

ch1, You, Title Card

AO3 Link

---------------

Hello and back again, I have the patience of a toddler when I'm invested so here we go besties. I could not bear to leave you on that cliff hanger for long so y'know you're welcome ig. Warnings are the same as the previous chapter so y'know feel free to go back and reread 'em lol. This chapter title is also from Dodie "All My Daughters" figured I should keep with a theme of some sort. Blanket notice for all my works btw, if the dialogue seems weird or off kilter it's because I am both of those things and have yet to figure out a single social interaction. If it's real bad you can just believe that they're both autistic, cause I am and that's why they're written like that lol. (I do feel in my heart of hearts that Tim Drake is autistic, but that's prolly cause he's my lad for projection so what can ya do. I didn't tag him as autistic in this fic b/c I didn't intentionally write him that way but again (!) I am autistic so there is a nonzero chance all my characters come across like that) c'est la vie tho so enjoy

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Chapter 2- Everyone but me knows how to let go

Tim sat up so fast he had to brace himself against the couch so that he didn’t face plant into a puddle of regurgitated coffee. Once he steadied himself he realized he had no idea where to go from here.

“What’s happening kid? I sent you a message but you didn’t even read it, and I knocked for like ten minutes once I got here.” Jason asked, closing the door behind himself and glancing around the empty penthouse.

The younger boy took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, when Jason evidently spotted the vomit. “What the fuck? D’ya have a concussion? Did you even go out last night? Don’t you know better than to try and do your concussion watch by yourself?” He shot out rapid-fire.

Tim stood shakily and rolled his eyes, heading into the kitchen and pulling out a towel and cleaner from the cabinet under the sink. “I don’t have a concussion, no I didn’t go out last night, and obviously I know you can’t concussion-watch yourself Jason- despite what you might think, I’m not an idiot.”

Jason blocked his way towards the mess and looked him up and down.

Tim was shaking and pale. His lips were chapped and he had deep bags under his eyes, which were only broken up by the puffy red rings that displayed a decent representative of how long he’d cried for. His face was coated in those tacky tears and his hair looked like he’d been pulling on it for a long time. The boy was staring determinedly at the window behind Jason and he had the towel and spray bottle clutched so hard his knuckles had gone white.

The man softened a little, “You get yourself sick?”

Of course, Tim just stepped around the man and bared his teeth in a bitter facsimile of a smile. “Not in anyway that matters Todd.” He crouched down and held his breath as he cleaned up the vomit, spraying the floor and scrubbing some more with a second towel.

“What’s that supposed to mean Timbo? You’re either sick or not kid.” Jason sent another, sharper, glance around the apartment. His vision stuttered over the shattered mug, it was red and had writing on it at some point, but it was illegible now.

“No, I’m not sick Jason. Did you need something- I’m sorry to have ignored you I was a little preoccupied.” Tim steadfastly ignored any tension in the room and walked back to the kitchen. He deposited the spray bottle under the counter once more and dumped the used towels in a hall hamper. Then he opened a nearby door revealing a closet full of blankets and larger cleaning supplies. He pulled out a broom and dustpan then turned back towards the shattered coffee mug.

Once more the man stepped into the younger’s path. “Sure seems like it kiddo- listen is everything alright?”

Tim tensed even further then sighed loud and long. “Listen to me Jason, we don’t have to do this okay? You’re gonna ask what’s wrong with me, I’m going to avoid the question- then we’ll do that until you’ve felt like you did your due diligence. After that you’ll accept what I said the first time and ask for whatever favor you came here for.” The boy glared up at Jason and gestured that he should move, he did not. “It doesn’t matter and I promise, I’m not going to go whine to Dick or Bruce that you ignored my duress or something- hell if they ask I’ll lie and tell them we had a real heart to heart and fleshed out our entire sordid, bloody history to a nice storybook resolution.”

Jason took a step back and grabbed the boy by the shoulders carefully, “So you’re under duress then?”

He yanked himself backwards and let out a wordless shriek, before muttering to himself as he pushed around the older man and began to sweep. “Fuck why not, of course this is gonna happen- goddamnit, it might as well.”

Jason watched him warily, like someone watches a loose lion or a person a little too close to the edge of a building. “Look Pre- Tim, I’m obviously not someone you wanna be talkin’ to- and no one gets that more than me! But I can’t leave you alone like this, is there someone I can call? Dickiebird? Maybe Blondie? Hell, I’ll get the clone on the line if it’ll help ya, just tell me what I can do ta’ help right now, okay?”

Tim laughed bitterly, leaning down to pick up the dustpan then walking and dumping it in the trash. He dropped both items on the floor in the kitchen before storming into the living room and gesturing towards the leather chair across from the couch that he collapsed on in a pile of disjointed limbs. “Whatever Jason, you’re already here and this can’t get much worse honestly- so y’know take a seat! You need a drink or anything, or can I lay here and stare at the ceiling as I rerun my top ten worst mistakes and do the math to figure out how all of that ended up with us here in my shitty apartment on a fucking Saturday morning?”

The man in question edged around the kitchen counter and tentatively sat on the leather chair, “What’s up then? You said you didn’ go out last night, right?”

Tim muttered angrily, “I’m never going to live this down fuck- should just send a fucking group email and get it over with,” before rolling his head to stare at Jason, who had his boots toed off onto the ground next to the chair and a leg propped up on the coffee table between them.

Jason sat and waited through the grumbling, maintaining a faintly concerned expression the entire time.

“You really want to do this?” Tim finally sighed like it had been forced out of him.

The other merely shrugged and leaned back into the chair, “What else would I be doin’ huh?”

“Anything?” The boy laughed out before rolling his eyes and taking in a deep breath. “Fine, I’d tell you not to laugh but it isn’t like it matters, so here goes nothing I guess.”

Tim stared up at the ceiling and ignored how tense his entire body was, he stared up at the ceiling and ignored how obvious that tension probably was to Jason. “I’m lonely.”

The boy liked to imagine the silence hung like a gunshot in the air, but it didn’t- he knew what those sounded like.

“You’re lonely.” Jason repeated with no intonation whatsoever.

Tim shrugged and resolutely stared at the ceiling some more, “Yup, go ahead then let's get this over with sooner rather than later.”

Jason frowned and dropped his leg from the table, leaning forward; “Get what over with kid? D’ya want a hug? No offense but that didn’t seem like something you were interested in earlier.”

He sat up on the couch, “Jason don’t be an idiot,” he gestured widely with his hands between the two of them, “the laughter, the jokes, the- I don’t know Todd, texting everyone we both know and a few people we don’t for good measure! Whatever it is you’re gonna do with this!”

Jason stared for a long moment, “Listen- I know I’ve been an ass, especially to you, but this isn’t funny. You fuckin’ threw up because of it, you’ve obviously been crying, none of that is funny Tim.” The older boy pinched the bridge of his nose, “Why didn’t you call someone- actually how do you get so lonely you puke? Is this something Bruce knows about?

Tim gaped for a long moment before letting out a sharp, angry sounding laugh. “This isn’t funny? That’s the line for you Todd? If I actually cry about it then it isn’t funny anymore, shit if I’d known it was this easy to get you to act like a person around me I’d’ve dealt with this ages ago!”

The older boy flinched back like he’d been hit, “Tim I-“

He was interrupted, “No don’t act like you give a shit Jason! Not even twenty fucking minutes ago you were calling me Pretender, this is the most you’ve said my actual goddamn name in the entire time we’ve known each other. You asked asshole, I told you- knowing full well the consequences.” He breathed heavily for a minute before continuing slightly softer, “I get that you don’t give a shit about me, not in any way that matters. I know you think I’m a naive idiot Jason, but don’t pretend you want to know for any reason other than having a leg up on this weird one-sided pissing match- remember I’m the Pretender, only one of us steals titles.”

Jason curled in on himself, breathing deeply before staring off to the left of the boy across from him. “Alright, I think I fucked this up- um Tim listen I sorta thought you’d just know since I guess there hadn’t been any fights to the death for awhile and we uh- coexisted when necessary.” He shored his shoulders and turned to look the younger in the eyes, “I don’t hate you, okay? You’re not stupid or naive, I uh- I thought we were uh bein’ friendly- which yeah I shoulda known better it’s not like I ever actually apologized ta’ you. Fuck.”

Tim blinked, standing up and backing towards the window side of the living room. “Jason Peter Todd this is not funny, you- you got your fucking blackmail I- what the fuck do you want from me? Fuck off, did Dick tell you? Was it Bruce? Surely you’ve got better things to do with your time?” His voice broke halfway through, “Who thought this was a funny fucking joke?”

Jason went pale, “Shit- no kid this isn’t a fucking joke! I- who would? Why would that be fucking funny? Holy shit kid,” the man stood up just as quickly, shooting forward and pulling Tim into a hug. “Shit, I’m sorry- I don’t, I don’ know what to do here kid, please.”

Tim bit back a sob, tensing his whole body away from the hug. He desperately forced out; “If this is a joke I need you to leave right now- please Jason, you win okay? G-good one alright? You can go and uh, and tell ev- everyone how I fell for it al- alright?”

He leaned back, holding the boy steady in his arms. “Tim, Tim I’m not kiddin’ please- I just, whaddya need ta’ know I’m serious?” Jason begged frantically, “D’ya want an apology? Cause I’m sorry kid, I’m so fucking sorry for all of it alright? You didn’t deserve a goddamn bit of it and it never shoulda happened, not at all and not to you.”

Tim shook in his hold, just barely whispering “You don’t mean that, Jason you don’t mean that okay? I was- I was a shitty replacement an- and a useless Robin that was- wasn’t even a decent placeholder for the next one okay? Do- don’t say shit like that to me Jason, if it was ever funny it definitely isn’t now, okay? I don’t know what you want me t- to say!” He whined out anxiously.

If possible, Jasons’ face crumpled further. “No kid, I don’t- I’m not makin’ fun of ya. Don’t say shit like that Tim, you were a great Robin an’ I was lucky ta’ have you as a successor, okay?”

The boy collapsed, leaning fully against Jason as his sobs returned with a vengeance and his breathing rocketed up in speed.

Jason pulled the boy into his arms and lowered them both onto the floor, “Shit uhm- shh, you’re okay Tim- deep breathes C’mon. It’ll be okay, c’mere kid I’ve got ya.”

Tim whined and leaned into the hold so hard his head ached, and Jason began to run a hand through his hair. “You’ll be okay, s’all fine. I know Tim, I know- it’s a lot right now. Just breathe with me c’mon in and out you’ve got it.”

Tim struggled and shook and cried for a long time, he tried to pull back from the older man but Jason just kept holding him and talking through the panic.

Eventually he began to follow Jason’s voice, managing a choked inhale through his sobs every now and then until slowly, painfully, the panic began to ease.

Jason just continued to mutter reassurances like it was nothing, “There you go, there he is, you’re doing so good. Here we are, you’re right here with me and nobodies gonna hurt you, I’ve got ya kid- just take it easy.”

Tim slowly stiffened as he came back into himself. He was curled up in Jasons lap, with his head shoved under the older mans’ chin and his face buried in his neck. His hands were gripping the back of Jasons’ jacket like he belonged there and there were half dried tears all over the both of them. Jason had his arm wrapped around him and his other hand was running though his hair. Casually, he pressed a kiss onto the top of Tims’ hair, still speaking softly throughout it all.

He forced his hands free and yanked himself out of the elder's arms, nearly falling backwards, except Jason caught him easily. “Hey, hey you’re okay Tim- it's fine I’ll let you up just be careful.”

Tim scrambled backwards until he was pressed against the window like he’d been sitting earlier this morning. He scrubbed a hand up and down his face, refusing to look at the older man he’d just been crying on for who knows how long.

Jason let him, hands held up in acquiesce. “D’ya need a drink? Some food?”

Tim kept his hands in place and firmly did not look at Jason. Reluctantly he muttered, “Water’s fine, there are bottles in the pantry.”

He stood slowly then turned around and headed towards the kitchen. Jason opened the pantry door next to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. He gave the younger a moment to collect himself before heading back into the living room and dropping to the floor across from him.

“Here, drink the first one slowly.”

Tim didn’t look up but he took the bottle and cracked the seal. He took small sips in silence for a heavy few moments before finally glancing through his bangs at the other boy.

Jason was sitting on the ground with his legs sprawled out in front of him, he had a second water bottle on his left and was leaned back on his right hand. He wasn’t watching Tim drink head on, instead staring out the window behind the boy with only the occasional glance to check his progress through the water. Stretched out across Tims’ floor, Jason looked so much like Robin that it hurt to breathe.

Eventually Tim finished the first water bottle, and Jason handed him the second without hesitation. “Drink as fast as ya like, just finish it.”

And so he did, he drank in silence for a few more minutes and pretended that he had any idea what was going to happen next.

After he got a solid amount of water in him, Jason cleared his throat.

Tim tensed in a way that was unfortunately quite visible to Bats, but Jason soldiered on anyways. “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you when it was clear somethin’ was up, and I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done that’d make you think I’d make such a shitty joke. I get it if you don’t believe me or want ta’ see me again, I just- Tim you’ve gotta know that right now I’m serious, yeah?”

He shuddered, and Tim winced. “I- fuck Jason you don’t need to- m’sorry.” He exhaled sharply, “None of this was your problem and I didn’t mean to make such a scene but you know me. I uh- I overreacted okay? That’s not your fault. You uh- you just caught me at a bad time and had to deal with my fits, but its no big deal okay?” Tim chewed his lip and shoved his face into his knees muttering to himself; “Fuck this is embarrassing.”

The older of the two flinched like he’d been shot this time, “Tim can you look at me a minute?”

The boy reluctantly looked up and Jason let out a wobbly smile before continuing, “Ya don’t need ta’ be embarrassed okay kid? You had a panic attack, probably two judging by the vomit from earlier- and that shit just happens sometimes okay? Especially in our line of work.”

Tim shook his head and smiled tightly, “Not really Jason, I’ve kinda always been like this. But thank you anyways.”

“Tim, listen to me okay? Just to the words I’m saying.” Jason responded through grit teeth, “That shit happens sometimes and it isn’t your fault. You got that? People have panic attacks, especially kids in high stress situations 24/7 so this isn’t some sparing your feelings bullshit- when have you even known me to do that anyways?”

The younger laughed ruefully, “Apparently right after I have a breakdown in your lap.”

Jason snorted but shook his head, “I’m bein’ dead serious Tim okay? And-“ he hesitated but powered through, “I’m bein’ serious when I tell you I’m sorry.”

Tims' face went red and he looked off to the side, “Yeah alright Jason, I get it. I’m sorry I had a fucking episode all over you about it or whatever.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, “I’m not sure you do get it kid, but I can explain.” He bit the inside of his cheek and started, “I’m sorry I attacked you- each time Tim. You didn’t deserve any o’ that and I shoulda known better. I said and did a lot of shit to you, and I blamed you for a lot of shit that wasn’t your fault. I was running high and fast on the Pit, and I’m not sayin’ that as an excuse cause it isn’t one. I’m telling you that so you know I was dead fuckin’ wrong when I said that shit to you.”

He continued, “You’re not a pretender or a replacement or a fuckin’ placeholder. You were a damn good Robin and I meant it when I told you I was lucky to have you as a successor. I mean shit kid, even beat seven ways to hell on the Pit I still wanted you as my Robin.”

Tim hesitated and glared at the floor near his feet. “You- you don’t have to say all this Jason. I know you don’t want to kill me and I get that in your right mind you wouldn’t’ve attacked me. But-“ he trailed off before looking up helplessly and whispering, “you don’t like me Jason.”

He grimaced, “To be honest Tim, I don’t really know you. The only things I know about you are what Talia told me and what I’ve heard from everyone else in this shitty family.” Jason smiled crookedly, “But from what everyone who’s actually met you says about you? I’d be stupid not to like you kid.”

Tim curled up and grit his teeth, “I know that isn’t true, I mean c’mon man- who the fuck are you talking to? I don’t know if you know this Jason,” he began bitterly, “but I’m an asshole. I’m a petty, manipulative, cold-hearted little shit and the only reason Bruce has kept me on retainer at this point is because I’d be too hard to beat as a rogue.”

Jason blinked for a moment “Kid, how’d you become Robin? Why’d ya’ do it?”

The boy in question hesitated over the non-sequitur. “… I blackmailed B with proof of his identity and stole the suit?”

“Okay, and why’d you even do it? What was the point? If you’d known for years why then?”

“Jason what are you going on about? You know why, because I had to!” Tim snapped bitterly.

Jason snorts through his nose, “No you didn’t, Tim you didn’t have to do shit- you coulda gone on your merry way with your parents and your pictures.”

He glares belligerently, “No I couldn’t’ve! Bruce was going insane, he woulda killed somebody or himself- whichever came first.” Tim sighs, losing steam. “I had to because he would’ve proven the Joker right, he would’ve destroyed your legacy until it was nothing more than the last straw that ruined Batman.”

He smiles sadly and shrugs, “But why did that matter to you kid? Why not make it someone else’s problem?”

Tim sighs loudly and knocks his head against the glass behind him. “It mattered to me because my pictures of Batman and Robin were all I had- is that what you want to hear? That I forced my way in, not for any noble reason like /Batman needs a Robin/, but because I was a clingy kid who didn’t want to see his happiest memories ruined like everything else.”

“You’re selling yourself short with that summary kiddo,” Jason leaned forward braced on his legs, “I think the reason you took up the R was because you believed in what we stood for and you didn’t want it ruined for good. I think you knew that your pictures got you as far as they could and Robin got sad kids farther than they thought they’d ever make it, and that shouldn’t be taken away from them just because shitty people exist.”

The younger boy stared at his feet sullenly, “Who cares Jason? I was a lonely, naive kid sticking my nose in a grieving fathers’ business because I never learned boundaries- does it matter why I did it?”

Jason let out a sudden laugh, “Of course it matters Tim! You’re the only one of us who took up Robin because you thought other people needed you to do it. Dickie wanted his parents murderer gone and was willing to keep on doing that for others only after he got justice, I wanted to feel helpful and important even though I had shitty parents and a shitty past and then I decided I needed to prove what kids like me could do, Steph wanted it so she could prove to herself that she was more than what B an’ everyone else told her, hell even the brat wanted the R just ‘cause o’ blood ties and he’s only just now starting to do it to help people.” Jason ran a hand through his hair, “Kid you looked at a hero from legend who was goin’ off the deep end publicly and decided that it couldn’t go any further- and then you made it happen even when it was fucking terrible. You don’t do that shit because you’re a fucking optimist- you do it ‘cause you know what’s right and you aren’t willing to let shit slide.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth silently, staring at his predecessor with wide, glassy eyes. Eventually he mumbled out, “That sounds a lil’ different than cuckoo bird.”

He sighs sadly, letting his head hang. “Yeah, yeah it does kid. I was fucking wrong, okay? I was angry and scared, an’ I didn’t wanna admit that life went on without me just ‘cause that’s how life works. I saw this determined little wisp of a thing that looked at every fracture line my greek tragedy left and decided to do damage control and it scared me.”

“I didn’t ever wanna replace you, I wasn’t even s’possed to stay Robin forever- I was gonna give it to the next kid once Bruce found someone better or he got a little better” Tim forced out slowly, like he was tasting the words. “I guess Bruce or Dick didn’t tell you, huh?”

Jason cocked his head at the boy, “What’re you- oh. Kid I don’t know what they coulda told me that would make lying about an apology funny.”

He shrugged and mumbled something too quiet to be heard.

Jason stared at the boy, watching as his face slowly went red and his shoulders hunched. He forced out “Didn’t catch that kiddo” through some uncomfortable mixture of bemusement and trepidation.

Tim squared his shoulders but stared at his feet. “I took pictures of everyone, obviously. I started ‘round the end of Dicks’ run- got all the greatest hits of Batgirl and Boy Wonder, caught a few good shots of Batman figuring out he had a child that he’d die for in real time- but uh, well.” He hesitated but pushed through like a man to the gallows, “Well I’ve got the most shots of you. All my best work, all my favorites, just most of my pictures- were you.”

The older boy nodded slowly, “Sure, I mean you musta’ been tiny when Dickiebird started out. It only makes sense that you’d get better as you got older so it woulda been odd if they weren’t Tim- what’s that got to do with anything?”

He shook his head, “No- I mean yeah I was like nine when I started with Dicks’ Robin, and I followed you from like ten to twelve but that’s not what I mean.” Tim shuddered and mumbled to himself, “I can’t believe you’re making me say it out loud, oh god.” He took a deep breath and finally looked at Jason. “I went out maybe once every two weeks with Dick, not because I couldn’t do it more, just ‘cause. When you started on Robin though? I started going out every other night. I mean fuck Jay, I used to only go out when there was nobody to notice I was gone and I was really careful about covering my tracks and doing well in school and shit- but when you started? I even went out the few times when my parents were home, I was so excited just to see you out there doing good.”

Jason let out a low wounded sound, “Tim…”

“Jason, your Robin was why any of that shit mattered to me. Of course I cared before, but not like when it was you.” Tim laughed self-consciously and ducked his head “I hacked my school records, convinced my parents I should go to school in town, I mean- Jason I thought of you as my Robin. I think I have an encoded notebook that I used when I was like eleven where I write, verbatim, /my Robin is the best hero in the world, Batman sure is lucky to have him/, so yeah you can see how hearing that you actually thought we could be friends might seem like a cruel joke.”

He blinked tears back rapidly, rocking forward onto his knees to stop right in front of Tim, “Can I- baby bird can I hug you?”

“You want to?” Tim asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes, absolutely”

And the boy barely got a chance to nod before Jason had him yanked forward against him, arms clasped so tightly around him that Tim could feel his bones creak. Jason held him desperately with his face hidden in the younger mans’ hair and his whole body folded over him. “I’m sorry Tim, fuck- you were a good kid and a great Robin alright?”

Tim pressed his face into the mans’ shirt and took deep breaths. Ever so slowly he relaxed into the hold until eventually; he didn’t notice the awkward angle, or the way his sweatpants were bunched around his legs because of how he’d been yanked, or even how his tears were leaking into the shirt below him. Tim pressed his face into Jason and gripped the man equally as hard.

They sat like that for a long time, Jason held Tim until their legs were numb and the floor was uncomfortable. At which point the older boy just barely loosened his hold, politely ignoring how Tim only burrowed further, and leaned backwards. He pulled the boy with him, until Jason was sitting in the middle of the floor with Tim tugged into his lap and his arms encircling the boy with only slightly less desperation.

Tim croaked out cautiously from his place within the hold but didn’t look up, “Hey Jason?”

“Hmm?”

“If I’d’ve called you today, and asked if we could just uh- just talk, would you have come?”

Jason pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “Yeah baby bird, I think I woulda.”

And from the safety of his Robins’ hold Tim let loose a wobbly, genuine smile.

#fanfic #dc universe #Tim drake #Jason todd #batman #red robin #hurt/comfort #mentioned batfamily #grace is writing

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 1 year

Note

dry your eyes AU 2: electric boogaloo? also that's a fantastic title plz don't change it when the story's done

AKSKSJDJKSJFKAJX so first of all I just realized that I probably gave you a lifelong association for The World Is Ugly with that one playlist (👀), but ANYWAY I mean... I probably will pick a different lyric when I actually finish the fic, but. it's a sequel to this fic I wrote a while back bc I wanted to explore those concepts more. it's... much more grounded than what happens in canon (whatever you might call "canon" wrt comics...), like... nobody's mental health is actually much better but they're certainly handling it better ajdkdhskfhakjf. Tim is the glue holding this family together and yet he still has zero concept of his own self-worth, Jason is being smacked in the face with Older Brother Instincts, Dick is dealing with the household curse (being woefully unprepared and yet CHOOSING to take care of someone else's son with all the love he has), and Damian is... Damian. scared and angry and figuring out what a family can be. basically, this is the "Damian vs. Tim" installment in this AU and everybody makes some Big Mistakes. they're figuring it out. a snippet for you:

As it is, all he can see is a dark sky, alley walls around him, and the beginnings of a rainstorm forming overhead. It seems thematic, in a depressing kind of way, but again, that's probably the shock. Or the concussion he probably has, making everything feel sluggish and uncertain.

There's no chatter in his comm. It isn't broken, it can't be broken because if it is then no one except Damian will know where he is or that he's hurt. It can't be broken, because when Tim reaches up to it with his unbroken hand and feels at the earpiece, it's not fractured or shattered and there's no static in his ear. It just got turned off, and he can't remember if he did it on purpose or if the fall from the rooftops jostled it. The uncertainty adds to the panic in between his ribs, a few of which feel like they're cracked.

Maybe all of him is cracked. Little Robin, cuckoo in the nest, finally fell and cracked open. Finally pushed.

#timberly is not having a good time right now :(#Lu rambles #ask games #Lu writes #dry your eyes au

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unknownjpegs · 18 days

Text

medic attention

His heart is racing as he shoves his way through the infirmary’s double doors. The smell of the humvee crash still lingers; smoke and gasoline and blood. Not his. Xavier Wolffe had someone managed to be inside a vehicle tumbling over and over and walk away with a scratch on the back of his hand.

Some might call that lucky. Xavier figured every other broken bone and concussion paid off for that one.

He’s moving fast, but is instantly caught by the silhouette of a short brunette and veers that way with no hesitation.

“Rodriguez,” he purrs, sliding past a blue curtain. She stands facing a counter top, arranging paperwork and pointedly does not look behind her. Even though Xavier is sure she wants to. Most do, when he’s around. He’s not vain about it, just realistic. Sometimes, he wants nothing more than for people to stop looking at him, but they never do. He slides up behind her, braces hands on that counter on either side of her hips, trapping her body there. “You stuck doing night shift, beautiful?”

Rodriguez is a combat medic—like him, that snake inside his brain whispers, like Benji—meaning she’s short, maybe five-five. But she’s built, and Xavier finds that too alluring to ignore sometimes. She’s strong, in her legs and arms and fills out that Shadow uniform real nice. Xavier can smell the gel she uses to keep her hair in a tight bun.

“Corporal Wolffe,” she replies with a clipped and even tone. Her body language, the slightest shift of her knee, the way her head tilts a little to expose her neck, belies how professional she sounds. Rodriguez and Xavier have done this back and forth before—she knows how much he likes necks. He stares there for a minute before his hands slowly flex on the counter, long fingers extending and closing. She’d liked his hands a lot.

As he predicts, she swivels around to face him, paperwork and supplies forgotten. Her arms fold over her chest, her eyes (wrong shade of brown, that snake laughs) flat on his face.

“You stink,” she says.

“Oh my God, medic, are you trying to get me into the showers? So naughty.”

One of her hand flattens on his chest. It slides up and hooks over his shoulder. She is not the only one who fills out the Shadow uniform. Xavier grins, toothy, cracked canine exposed.

Then he blinks a few times, remembering what he’s meant to be here for. Rodriguez snaps the hand away like she can tell whatever he’s going to say next is not going to be good.

“Sorry, can you tell me where Davar is?’

“Oh you fucking dog!”

Instead of caressing him then, she’s slapping that hand down hard over his arm, shoving against it to get out from under him. Xavier lifts them, palms up in apologetic surrender.

“You come over here, flirting with me, when you’re here to visit that woman—Graves’ little fucking woman—I should kill you.” She’s back to the paperwork, snarling away. Xavier’s eyes hood, his hands curling slightly into what could be called fists until he flexes them out and snorts out a small laugh. “This is why I don’t fuck with you anymore, Wolffe. You are a dog.”

“Bark fucking bark—where is her gurney?”

Rodriguez snaps a hand in a direction.

“Last one, near the exit door. You know why,” she seethes between her teeth. And Xavier does. If Juliet was closest to the exit door, she’d be the first one out in an emergency. Raid, fire, whatever. Special privileges for a special girl. Xavier runs a hand back through his hair, contemplating Rodriguez for a moment. Her shoulders are tight, her hands working through a supply count, a clipboard off to the side.

He thinks that he almost enjoyed her anger more than her flirting and that makes him feel a guilty little swill in his stomach before he turns and walks away.

—

He finds Sink first, because he’s only a few gurneys down. Xavier snaps the blue curtain open immediately, smiling ear to ear.

“Fuck you,” Sinkevich says in quick reply, waving a tired hand.

Xavier strides in, grasping the mans face and kissing his forehead. Once, twice, three times. All the while, Sink shoves hard at his chest with his left hand. Right is bandaged triple the size it should be and rests in a sling.

“They give you the good drugs?”

“Ibuprofen.”

“You’re shitting me?”

“No, I’m just not tellin’ you what they gave me, so you don’t try and steal it out my room.” Xavier’s hand slides back into the mans buzzed short black hair, smiling down at him. Not offended or hurt; happy to see him conscious, lucid, alive. Sink doesn’t smile back, because he doesn’t really smile, but there’s a note of humor in his eye. They can make these jokes because Lark isn’t around to look wounded and make Xavier feel guilty.

“Extraction Unit One is going to get a reprieve for a bit. Light duty. They’ll rely on Unit Six.” Sink leans back in the gurney more, gets himself comfortable on that meager, cardboard looking pillow. Xavier wanders down and starts tugging his boots off for him. Rodriguez is good at what she does. Thorough, competent, professional. But her bedside manner had never been solid.

They plunk to the ground, heavy sounding.

“You better get used to the other hand huh?” Xavier makes an obscene gesture with his fist near his hips that has Sinkevich raising an obscene finger back at him before he closes the blue curtain and continues on.

—

When he gets to Juliet, he hesitates. One hand up on that blue curtain, the other fucking with his dog tags. He yanks them, to keep his hand occupied, because he’s nervous. He’d been in the crash, but he’d not been able to see what had become of her—was a little focused on Sinkevich kicking the door over and over to try and wedge his hand out of it. She had to understand that, of course. Extraction team came first. Shadows came first.

Always.

And that had been what really made things difficult with Juliet. Because otherwise, she was easy. Simple and pleasant and sweet and Xavier had found her enjoyable company. In and outside of the bedroom; but she was a civilian. A true civilian. Juliet came from money, had government officials for parents. Xavier had middle class parents who had to work two jobs to support all four of their kids—and they didn’t even talk to him anymore.

So when he’d felt that first weak spot in her, he’d had to dance right out of her reach. Xavier couldn’t handle civilians. Sometimes, when they’d been in bed together and his nose was right under her ear and her arms were around his shoulders and he was inside her, he was thinking wish you smelled dirtier. Wish you smelled like gunpowder and sweat.

Wish one of us was bleeding right now.

And that had scared him enough to stick to only fucking fellow mercenaries, or otherwise adjacent for a long time after that. Because that thought had not gone away since then; has blossomed into something much worse to tamp down as of late.

After flattening a hand on his chest and breathing a few times, Xavier yanks the blue curtain, similarly to how he’d done with Sink and steps inside. For a moment, he’s winded because she looks so fucking small in that gurney. Juliet wasn’t big on a good day, but now she looked withered. Her skin was the same exact shade of the sheets and a giant purple bruise washed over her chin and to her upper cheek. She’d clearly smacked her face on something metal. A little cut in her eyebrow hadn’t needed stitches, but had scabbed over none the less.

Her eyes flutter open and for a moment, she is a mask of terror—anticipation for something else awful, after a long night of awful. Until her entire body sags and she gives him that signature, soft and sweet smile.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Xavier says quietly, slinking closer. He drops himself down onto the chair beside her gurney and pulls up close. She’s blinking back tears already (see? That weak spot, his body reminds him; it’s soft, like bruised fruit) and her hand moves, as if she might reach up for him. He can tell she’s too shy to.

They’ve not had the best relationship since Xavier had broken things off; not that she hadn’t accepted it gracefully. Dignified even, with that smile she always had for him. Friends, then? She’d said, holding out her pinky. He’d looped his around hers, tried to mimic that smile. Friends.

So he takes her hand in his. It’s small and cold and he folds his other over it and brings it to his mouth to breathe on.

“Christ, they don’t turn the fucking AC on in here huh?” Her other had has an IV dripping and he can see a bruise there too. Multiple actually, like whoever had tried to insert it had missed more than once. Xavier doesn’t envy her that—painful, fucking painful to get that needle in more than once. She has a pink tint to her cheeks, which mingled cruelly against that purple and blue mark on her face. “What’s the damage?”

“How is Vasil?” she turns the question around, because of course she does. Makes it even funnier because she calls Sinkevich by his first name. Which no one ever does, but that’s Juliet. Civilian and sweet. Sink had blushed so hard he’d had to leave the room when she’d used it the first time. But, he ignores her retaliating question and leans over her.

“Juliet. How bad is it?”

Her bird like chest pulls in a breath hard, fragile bones expanding and contrasting. Her hand in his two palms squeezes and her eyes dart from him to the curtain and back.

“I’m scared, Xavi,” she mumbles. She says it so quietly, he has to move the chair closer to hear her. He’s right up against the gurney now, knees bumping it awkwardly. His other hand slides over it, finds her thigh. Her foot is elevated, but the blanket covers everything but that garish pink cast but she still trembles like he’s touched bare skin.

“It’ll heal. You get a little rest in the infirmary—”

“That’s what I’m scared of.”

His brows pinch in as he leans closer. She does look afraid. There’s a sheen of sweat to her skin that has nothing to do with the painkillers she’s being administered, or that she’s likely just experienced the worst pain of her life. Try your fucking ribs, sweetheart, now that’s pain. He swallows that cruel thought quickly.

“No one likes being in the infirmary, Juliet,” he replies with an understanding smile. His hand pats her thigh softly and her entire body flinches.

“It’s not the infirmary—it’s-it’s the medic.”

“Rodriguez? Did she do something to you?” Xavier leans in again. Now he’s almost face to face with her, his nose wrinkling in anger, that immediate fury that sort of changes his expression into something a little more animal like. Teeth bared and shoulders raised—she’s not seen him truly angry before. Blessing in disguise that, because he’s sure she would have run from him the moment she had. Civilian. Mercenary. Soft, sweet girl. Big, fucking murderous boy.

But Juliet only shakes her head, her lips pinched in, looking like she might burst into tears.

“The other one.” She breathes in, eyes cutting over his shoulder a few times before she locks onto him. “Palanivel.”

It disturbs Xavier a little that instead of that bone deep, white hot fury he’d felt before, his mind instantly corrects the pronunciation of the name in his head. It disturbs him even more that, the single thought of Benji makes his mouth pool with saliva. Xavier has to move his hand from hers to softly wipe it over his lips and look away.

“He treated you? Not Rodriguez?”

“She was busy with Vasil.” Juliet’s sniffling—definitely crying now. Makes sense if she’d just had to deal with him. Xavier’s hand stays over his mouth a moment longer, because his tongue keeps probing what has become scar tissue on the inside of his cheek. It’s a fat little seam where he’d cut flesh with his own teeth; where Benji had prodded with cruel fingertips until he’d felt like screaming.

The memory makes his skin flash warm all over. His eyes lose focus for a moment. His tongue keeps touching that scar. Remembers those gloved fingers sliding in and out of his mouth.

“What did he do?” It has none of that blistering rage from before. He says it softly. It’s a request, not a demand. His eyes slide Juliet’s way. Her face is still puckered, but it’s also open and vulnerable. Ready to share. Did it hurt? Oh fuck, it hurt bad, didn’t it? His hands are strong, aren’t they? I remember when he slapped me. I felt it for days after. His chest feels funny, and it’s only then that he realizes hes dragging in his breathing a little hard.

She lifts her hand with the IV. The back of it is blue with the bruises. His fingertips dig into his lips. He wants to think about being angry. He wants to reclaim that, somewhere in the void inside his head, but for some reason, he’s imaging what those black gloved hands look like with a needle. A shiver runs down his spine.

“And—And my leg, he—he—” Those tears are running down her cheeks now. They drip from her chin onto the gray shirt she wears. Juliet’s never been made to adhere to Shadow black. The fabric darkens with those tears anyway. Xavier swallows, his hand briefly cupping his throat before he takes the blanket. “No—Don’t look, Xavier.”

But he’s already pulled it back to reveal her slim, pale thigh. Xavier had kissed there before. She was ticklish and he’d thought it amusing, the way she’d kick her leg out and laugh and shove at his head when he was there.

There’s a bruise of a hand print, dark purple smudges of fingers, indented into her leg. This was where Benji had held her to reset her tibia. Xavier stares at it, his eyes blurring. He imagines the man crouched over her; his vision recalls Benji’s medic uniform perfectly. The way his vest sits on him, bulking him even larger. His balaclava and the way sometimes a strand of black hair found a way to push forward anyway, a little curl over dark brown skin. Xavier thinks of those dark eyelashes.

He imagines Benji holding and snapping. The vein in his bicep standing out as he does. Xavier imagines Juliet screaming, because it would hurt. Imagines her screaming so hard and that medic only yanking her onto a stretcher. Unkind not the word for it. Cruel. Sadistic. Wicked. Nasty.

He didn’t realize he was reaching until his hand folds over the bruise. His thumb brushes exactly where he imagines Benji’s was when he did it. It’s like holding hands. That’s what he’d thought, when he’d held that bruised cheek. For one terrifying, brief moment, he’s thinking, I wish I’d been there to see it.

And then Juliet says his name and makes his body snap straight.

His hand slides from her thigh and fixes the blanket so it covers her again. There’s a strange, distant tinny sound in his skull as he leans over and brushes tears off her cheek, the one that isn’t covered in a bruise.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s alright.” But fuck it isn’t, it really isn’t. His hands are shaking a little. A tremble running up them to his elbows. He smiles at her though, tucking a strand of her hair back. Does she smell like him? Is he imagining it? Is he tucking closer to her, head bowing a little, nose to her shoulder because he wants her to smell like him. “He probably could have done worse.” Was definitely the wrong thing to say, because her skin goes from white to green and she’s kneading her hand into the blanket with a ferocity.

“Will you stay here, Xavier? I’m so sorry for asking—you don’t have to but—” Her voice is wet and small. “What if he comes back?”

When he was little, he remembers playing baseball with local kids. A sandlot type of thing. He remembers hitting the ball and sending it flying. The crash of the window and all of them scattering. In that moment, Xavier’s brain feels like the glass window and Benji is the baseball.

He leans back in the chair, his hands returning to himself, lacing together and resting on his chest as he slouches there.

What if he comes back? Wouldn’t that be nice?

“I’ll stay here all night, Juliet. Don’t worry.”

—

He does come back.

Xavier had been dozing a little, cheek to his shoulder when his gaze wanders to that slit in the curtains.

One brown eye stares at him.

It makes Xavier’s entire body jump, nearly out of that chair that’s too small for him anyway. His heart slams up under his trachea, an immediate waterfall of a sound in his ears as he clutches the fabric of his shirt at his chest. It is such an immediate fear that it makes his muscles numb and his fingertips cold until Benji’s hand slowly parts the curtains.

It’s a shame he’s not still in his kit. That thought is somehow still tangible inside the way his heart is continuing to race up and down his throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Xavier seethes.

“Unfortunately not,” Benji replies in his usual eerie and even tone. He’s got a short sleeve black shirt on, tactical trousers still. Xavier’s eyes might linger on his hips and thighs more than they should—sometimes he feels like he has to keep his eyes on Benji’s hands. Like one day he might go, surprise! And slip a scalpel into his kidney. But he gets distracted easily. He watches those thighs as Benji approaches him on the chair. His hips have such a nice sway to them. Is that on purpose? Does he do that because he knows Xavier stares?

He should make Benji leave. If Juliet woke up and saw him, she’d scream. Loud enough it might annoy Benji—whose moods shifted too quick for Xavier to really understand them. So it was a fifty-fifty if Juliet lived through that imagined screaming. He should make Benji leave too, because he hurt Juliet. He’d hurt her.

Instead, he stays quiet as Benji’s foot kicks one of Xavier’s boots and opens his legs wider as he sits in the chair. Benji slides between him and the gurney easy, fits himself between Xavier’s knees. Even slouched in one of these shitty infirmary chairs, he’s right at chest level with the medic. His hands twitch as they rest on his thighs.

“Didn’t see you after the humvee crash, Corporal. You not get a booboo this time? S’rare.”

Xavier snorts and pulls one of his long sleeves up. There’s a long red cut down his forearm that won’t even scar. He’d almost forgotten about it.

“It hurts so bad, medic. Can you do something for me?” He holds his arm up. Makes his voice real pathetic, “I’m in so much pain.”

“Would y’like to be?”

It shuts Xavier up as he drops his arm back into his lap. Because he isn’t sure of the answer anymore. He isn’t sure what he’d say to Benji if he was pressed to reply for real. He rubs a hand over his thigh, because he can’t remain still. Thinks of that bruise on Juliet’s leg. His eyes dart to her, to make sure she’s still asleep. Her chest rises and falls under the infirmary blanket.

“She was really brave,” Benji mocks, not bothering to look behind him. His dark eyes are down on Xavier, chin tilted down. “So proud of the officer.”

“You fucked up her IV on purpose.”

Benji spreads his hands up, in a, you got me! gesture, smiling all the while. He looks beautiful smiling, which makes Xavier feel sick. He looks boyish when he does it. There’s a gleam in his eyes that is so sick and so disgusting, but for Xavier, he’s looking at the way his thick brows look pulled up, and his cheeks move. For Xavier, he’s fucking doomed and he knows it.

He stands then, the chair scratching the floor a little as he does. Xavier’s eyes stay on Benji’s as he slowly rises. For a brief moment, they’re the same height until he keeps going. Up, up, up until he’s all nine inches taller than Benji. Ten, if you include his tactical boots. For some reason, his chest is moving faster. He’s breathing harder.

“You’re sick, Benji,” he says.

“Achoo,” the medic says it and pouts, like he means it. His dog tags are underneath the shirt, but Xavier can see the outline of them and for some reason his hand lifts. He slides fingertips over that chain. It and the fabric are the only thing separating their skin. Juliet’s gurney is directly behind them. She lays there, with Benji’s hand print on her thigh and Xavier realizes in dull, horrifying fascination, that it makes him a little jealous.

Benji smiles.

Xavier shivers, because it’s not a nice smile; and it still somehow makes everything hot inside him unfurl and spread.

“Need a little medic attention, operator?”

“Yeah. Invisible wound in the mouth.”

And he leans down and kisses that cruel cut of a smile. He kisses it and feels his mouth fill with Benji’s tongue. His hand lands on the gurney behind Benji as he stays hunched like that. The cold metal feels odd underneath his palm as he curls fingers around it. His other hand flattens on Benji’s chest and slides down, cups his hips. His fingers curl there too after slipping underneath the shirt. He feels that warm skin under the rough pads of his fingers. They kiss in a way that is dogged and disgusting and hungry.

The hand that snapped Juliet’s leg straight winds into Xavier’s hair. Pets it, almost softly and that makes him want to moan. Their teeth knock with each way they twist their heads to kiss and Xavier feels the way Benji’s tongue slides over his cracked canine, like it’s searching for his own injury.

When they part, a string of spit connects Benji’s bottom lip to his and it makes Xavier almost laugh until he remembers where they are. Guilt blossoms inside his heart, but it is so easily pushed down when Benji’s hand slips around the plastic buckle of his tactical belt.

“You got fucking closets in this place right?”

Benji tilts his head, predatory and sweet.

“Didn’t you promise her you’d be here all night?”

Xavier’s heart plummets for a moment when he realizes that Benji had been listening that entire time. What had he said? What had Juliet said? His hand grips harder on Benji’s hip, hard enough that a civilian would crumble. Benji’s head only tilts the other way, in mute, humored observation.

“So you have closets or what?”

Benji laughs loud enough he might wake Juliet up, but Xavier cannot for the life of him, pay attention to that.

—

When he returns with slightly sore knees and a jellied feeling of satisfaction in his bones, Juliet is still asleep. He slips back into the chair and pulls it close again. Xavier runs a hand through his unruly hair, trying to tame it.

He stares at the woman on the gurney, his tongue against the scar on his cheek. He wants, so badly, to feel anything in that moment besides pleasantly tired. His hand reaches out and slips into Juliets. It’s a hand that has only just minutes ago been touching someone who had terrified her to tears.

But at least she won’t wake up alone. Xavier tells himself that’s enough, right? That’s kind of him.

#writing #evil bastards au #xw #bp #bp x xw #hj

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