#Can’t say he didn’t warn Tim though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roses-r-rosie3 · 3 months

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Jason Todd x M!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Semi public sex, blindfolding, handjob, spit as lube,

Requested by anon:

detective reader with jason todd? the readers really good at investigating and have a lot of important intel on a crime boss that jason is also targeting, when the detective is alone in the office jason is waiting there in the dark ready to get some info, but the reader is very reluctant to give sensitive information to a vigilante. so jason fucks it out of the reader over his desk? until the reader is begging and babbling out information so easily also i'd say this is their first time meeting ok thanks have a good day/night

A/n: This was the fic I was talking about when I posted this 😭

Quote: “You know… I was just going to force you to give me the information, but it looks like you want me to fuck it out of you”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were one of the best detectives in Gotham. ‘Why?’ You may ask, well it was because your skills at investigating. As a kid you always loved watching shows like scooby doo. You would constantly try to guess who was behind the mask (you were right most of the time). So it didn’t surprise your parents/friends when you got a job at the gcpd.

When you joined the gcpd, you were one of the youngest rookies at the time, so whenever you would try to input some of your ideas, your superiors would immediately shut you down. It wasn’t until you broke a career-defining case that you earned everyone’s respect, even Bruce himself was impressed. Because of that, you eventually became Gotham’s best and youngest detectives that there was.

So when news broke that there was a new crime boss in town, you were first on the case. However, Jason was also interested in this new Crime Boss, and he didn’t really feel like investigating, so he decided why not just try to get Information from you. Of course, Jason could’ve just asked someone like Tim but everyone else was too busy with their own problems that they didn’t have time for the Crime Boss.

Jason obviously knew about you, youngest detective in Gotham blah blah blah… but the problem was, the two of you have never formally met before. But who knows maybe Jason would get lucky and you would just hand over the information, even though Jason knew the chances were very low (but hey a boy could only hope).

You were in your office, staying overtime to investigate. It was currently 4am and your body was basically running on coffee. You were super invested in this case and nothing was going to stop you. However, you eventually decided to give yourself a little break to use the restroom and get some more coffee.

You said your ‘hi’s to your co-workers before walking back to your office. When got to the door you waved to everyone before walking in and closing the door behind you. After you placed your beverage down on your desk sensed someone behind you. You immediately pulled out your gun from your belt and pointed it at the figure.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” You asked.

“Damn, not bad detective” the figure chuckled.

“Answer me goddamn it who are you” you growled.

The figure walked forward, closer to the light in the office. The figure was revealed to be red hood. You knew who red hood was, I mean how couldn’t you know who he was! He was a famous vigilante and he made your job a lot harder than it already was.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, with your gun still pointing at him.

“I’m here because of the new gang leader in town” Jason answered.

“He’s a crime boss” you replied snarlingly.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I meant” Jason rolled his eyes.

“What about him?” You said.

“I need you to give me some information about him” Jason replied.

“I can’t tell you that, it’s classified information” you said, gripping your gun tighter.

“That’s what I thought you would say, but I’m afraid I’m that I’m not taking no as an answer” Jason said as he walked closer to you.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer! I’ll shoot!” You said.

Jason let out a chuckle before quickly knocking the gun out of your hand. Jason started to slowly walk towards you, until you felt yourself bump into your desk behind you.

“What’s your answer now detective?” Jason said as he towered over you.

“No” you said, standing your ground.

“Why are you making this so difficult?” Jason sighed before he put his hands around your throat as he choked you lightly.

You tried not to make any noise, but a moan slipped out of your mouth as his grip tightened a little. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a bulge started to form in your pants too. Eventually you got so hard to the point where Jason could feel your cock rubbing against his.

“Oh, you pervert” Jason smirked behind his mask.

“You know… I was just going to force you to give me the information, but it looks like you want me to fuck it out of you” Jason whispered against your ears as he slowly started to rub your crotch.

“N-no it’s not like that, you’re not getting the information” you tried to say as he started rubbing your crotch at an even faster rate.

“Are you sure about that detective?” Jason chuckled as unzipped your fly and slipped his hands into your boxers.

You moaned loudly as Jason rubbed your tip, spreading your precum. You whined, bucking up into his hand. Your eyes hung low, squeezing shut as he brushed over your tip.

“It seems to me like you’re enjoying this quite a bit” Jason said as continued teasing you.

All of a sudden, Jason started stroking you fast and tight around your sensitive dick. You whimpered as he stroked your cock faster and faster. Just when you were about to cum, Jason swiftly pulled his hand away. But before you could even complain, Jason quickly took the tie around you neck and wrapped it around your eyes.

“Can’t have you seeing my face now can I?” Jason smirked under his mask.

Jason took of his mask and tossed it to the side before sloppily making out with you. You were completely under his control at this point, I mean you were completely blinded what else could you do (and it felt good too).

Before you were being bent over with your ass facing Jason’s direction. You shivered as you felt Jason pull down your trousers and boxers. Jason spit on his fingers and slowly inserted his fingers into your hole, smirking at your reactions.

You huffed, your fingers clawing the table and a tight sound escaping him as Jason pressed his slick fingers into your hole. When Jason felt like you were loose enough he pulled his fingers out and slowly started to pull out his cock.

You were now impatiently waiting as Jason took his sweet time. When you finally heard Jason pull his cock out, he started teasing your hole with his tip. You gasped as you felt his tip teasing your hole.

“Last chance to tell me the information before I destroy your hole detective” Jason said.

“I-I’m not telling you s-shit” you said, still trying your best to stand your ground.

“You brought this on yourself” Jason sighed as he pushed himself all the way inside of you.

Jason slowly started to roll his hips, hearing as you whimpered. He started pulled out slowly, but suddenly he harshly slammed back into you, causing you to let out a loud moan. Jason gripped onto your hips tightly, undeniably leaving bruises as he ruthlessly pounded into you.

Pleasure took over your mind as you were being ruthlessly fucked by Jason on your desk. You were trying hard not to moan too loud because your co-workers were right outside the door, and god forbid if one of them came inside your room. Jason however, did not like the fact you were trying to silence yourself, so he started thrusting faster and deeper, hitting your prostate.

While Jason was pounding you, he hit a particular spot that made you let out a loud moan. He smiled to himself before pulling out and then ramming down on the same spot repeatedly. You were a mess at this point, you were begging for him to fuck you harder as sweat coated your body. And before you knew it, you were mindlessly muttering out the information.

“W-warehouse… Ah! At- p-please~ M-Miller Harbor…” you mumbled.

Jason chuckled to himself. You, a detective with a phenomenal reputation, falling apart and becoming a whiny mess just because of Jason. You could feel ever pulsing vein on Jason’s cock as he fucked you.

You see, before this whole fiasco happened, Jason was doing some research on you. He found out all sorts of things about you, one of them being that you were in the running to be the next captain. So while he was thrusting into you, he thought why not taunt you with this information.

“Do you really think they’ll make you captain after this? Gotham’s best detective giving out information, just because he’s being fucked like a slut” Jason smirked against your neck.

You were as dicked down as one could be, the tie around your eyes was soaked in your tears, flushed cheeks, shaky legs, bruised hips, and covered in your own sweat. But you still managed to cling on to a bit of information, which was pretty impressive.

Jason could tell you were close, but he could also tell you still had pieces of information that he wanted. So he gripped onto your cock so that you couldn’t cum, and pounded faster. He pulled your hair so that your head was up against his shoulder.

“I know you’re close, so why don’t you just tell me a bit more information and I’ll let you cum detective” Jason whispered as licked up and down your neck.

You tried, you really tried to hold on, but the combination of Jason’s thrusts, and his mouth licking and biting at your neck and earlobe made you break.

“His first name is G-Gra-AH-nt, his last name is Mikhail, he came from R-russia and moved over to Gotham for weapon.. ngh… trading a drug deals j-just please let me cum!” You blurted.

“Good job, you earned it detective” Jason smirked as he started jerking you off at the same rate as his thrusts.

Before you knew it, you let out a loud whimper as you spilled your load all over Jason’s hands and your desk. Your brain was complete mush as Jason chased his release.

“S-so tight around my cock” Jason groaned.

Jason pulled your head towards his and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss as his one of his hands gripped tightly around your hips. He thrusted deeply into you, one last time before releasing his load into your wrecked hole.

Jason waited a moment to collect himself before pulling out. He chuckled as he watched his cum trickle out of your hole. He looked at his hands that was covered with your seed and tasted it.

“Damn, you got a pretty good load” Jason teased before cleaning both of you up.

After you were both cleaned up, Jason quickly left, leaving you there with the aftermath. You were too tired (your legs were too sore) to drive home at this point, so you decided to sleep in your office for the day.

When you woke up, let’s just say you were met with one of the worst days of your life. First, you had a really bad limp that would probably last weeks. Second, it turns out Jason took all that information and ended up putting the guy in Arkham Asylum. And third, he was getting all the praise for “solving the case all on his own”.

You were beyond angry. You had to get your payback somehow.

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

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hey I was wondering if you can do a Tim Bradford x reader where Tim and Isabel were working together and the reader saw them laughing together and she turned around asking someone who that was and she knows all about Isabel but scared that Tim would leave her to be with Isabel and she said overthinking because she just found out she was pregnant and scared Tim would leave

Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

Warnings: pregnant!wife!reader, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, Angela (yes, she gets a warning because she is amazing (and threatens to kill for you)). 2.0k+ words

Don't Leave Me for Her

Tim looks happy. You stand by your car, leaning against the hood as you watch him.

“Hey,” Angela calls, walking to your side. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” you answer, not looking away from Tim. “Who is that?”

Angela follows your line of sight, frowning when she sees what’s keeping your attention.

“Uh, that’s Isabel,” she answers quietly. “They’re working a case together. She had some intel that narcotics found really useful.”

Tim doesn’t work in narcotics, you think. So why is he standing with his ex-wife?

You take a deep breath, your hand resting against your stomach as you pick at your shirt. Tim starts laughing, leaning toward Isabel as she smiles at him. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you begin overthinking. Tim looks happy, happier than he ever has with me.

“C’mon,” Angela murmurs, wrapping her hand around your forearm as she leads you toward the door. “I need someone to keep me company.”

Nodding, you follow her, watching Tim until you can’t see him anymore. Your thoughts quickly turn to a fear that Tim will leave you to return to Isabel.

“Alright, spill,” Angela says, pushing you toward her chair.

You shake your head, looking down as you tug at your shirt again. “Just weird seeing them together, I guess.”

“Tim loves you,” Angela assures you. “He’s just working.”

“Doesn’t laugh like that with you, does he?”

Angela doesn’t answer, looking past you as Tim enters the station. He finds you immediately, walking toward you, oblivious to Angela glaring at him.

“Hey,” Tim greets, smiling at you. “What are you doing here?”

Seeing something I’m probably not supposed to. “I was passing by and thought I’d say hi. Hi,” you reply.

Tim’s brows furrow, glancing over at Angela quickly.

“But, I should probably get going, I know you’re all busy,” you add, standing and straightening your shirt.

“Um, okay,” Tim says, noticing how you avoid stepping too close to him. “I’ll see you tonight?”

You nod, though you don’t look sure of yourself. When Angela nods, you tilt your head toward your shoulder and take a deep breath. Tim can read your expressions well, but he hasn’t cracked the code of wordless ‘girl-speak’ yet.

“Are you okay?” he whispers as you turn back toward him.

“Yeah, just tired. I’ll see you tonight.”

While you quickly kiss his cheek, your thoughts begin to swim again. If Isabel had kissed him, he probably would have responded differently; when you do it, he stands there and accepts your affection, nothing more than a hand holding your hip to steady you. Angela would not be happy to know what you’re thinking, but the moment you get in your car, you fall into a spiral of heartbreaking thoughts, and in every scenario you imagine, you end up alone while Tim laughs with Isabel.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim calls you nearly a dozen times before you turn your phone off. Sitting in your quiet bedroom, you look at a framed picture of you and Tim. You’re smiling at the camera while Tim’s focus is on you. You saw how he looked at Isabel today, completely different. His smile, laugh, eyes, it's all different with her.

You know that first loves are different, everyone does, yet you let the fact that Tim never talks about Isabel anymore lead you to believe he was wholly in love with you.

You let your guard down. His sweet smile and kisses distracted you, and you never noticed how easy it would be for him to choose her.

A few tears roll over your cheeks, and you set the picture to the side, moving your hands to cover your stomach instead.

The front door closes, and you rush to wipe your face dry, pulling your shirt away from your skin before Tim steps into the bedroom.

“Hey, I’ve been calling,” he breathes, walking toward you. “What’s going on?”

“I guess my phone died,” you lie. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just got a little worried.” He kneels beside the bed and looks at you. Not like he looked at Isabel, though. “Have you been crying?”

“I- uh- I saw one of those animal shelter commercials with the sad dogs.”

Tim chuckles, his lips quirking up into a smile as he hugs you. “You’re sure you’re okay, though? Nothing bothering you?”

“No. I’m okay,” you reply, turning in Tim's hold because it may be the last time.

“I was thinking that we should go out on Friday. I get off a little earlier, so we could go out for dinner and drinks if you want.”

“Dinner sounds good.”

“Lopez wanted to do a double date, but that always ends with me listening to Wesley while she steals your attention,” Tim adds, moving his hand over your shoulder.

Like Isabel steals yours? The thought is unwelcome and brings more tears to your eyes; you’re emotional and tired and growing more heartbroken each moment.

“Hey, isn’t there a game on tonight?” you ask, hoping Tim is as easily distracted by sports as by Isabel.

“I don’t think so. Trying to get rid of me?”

The opposite, but it feels like a losing battle.

✯✯✯✯✯

You call in sick to work the next day. It’s not a complete lie, though the truth is that you’re making yourself sick by overthinking, worrying, and constantly fighting tears. Tim left early this morning for work, and every time you think of him, you see him laughing with Isabel, then realize that she makes him happier than you do.

If this had happened a year ago, you would have talked to Tim about it. But now, there is much more at stake, and losing him would be the same as losing a part of yourself.

You need to talk to someone, and only one person understands the depth of your emotion because she knows at least half of your situation. After dialing Angela’s number, you cancel the call and decide to visit her in person. For the first time, you hope that you don’t run into Tim at the station.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Ange?” you ask, walking to her desk.

Angela looks up from a folder, her eyes widening when she sees you. You’re sure your face is red and teary, and your fiddling fingers are concerning, but you’re concerned, too.

“Can we talk?” you ask.

“Of course. Come with me.”

She leads you to an empty office, and you lean against the desk as she closes the door.

“What’s going on? Are you okay? If Tim did something, I will kill him and they’ll never be able to prove it,” she rambles.

You chuckle sadly before promising, “I’m okay. Mostly.”

Angela nods, moving to sit beside you as she takes one of your hands. “Is this about Isabel and Tim working together?”

You nod, and she squeezes your hand.

“Not just that, though,” you whisper.

“He really does love you; I didn’t just say that to make you feel better.”

“I know he does, but…”

“You think he still loves her, don’t you?”

“I don’t see how he couldn’t,” you argue, sniffing as a tear rolls over your cheek.

“What else is going on?” Angela asks.

You move your hand toward your stomach, and she gasps, grabbing your other forearm as she stands.

“Really?” she asks excitedly.

The door opens, and Tim stops when he sees you, his eyes fixed on you as his hands flex at his sides.

“Really what?” he asks.

“I think you two should talk,” Angela says softly.

You shake your head, and she whispers, “Trust me. You need to tell him all of it.”

She walks past Tim, pulling the door closed behind her. Tim stands in front of you, setting his hand on your hip and rubbing it gently.

“Tell me all of what?” he asks. “You know you can talk to me about everything.”

Nodding, you try to believe him.

“I just- I’ve been thinking about us,” you begin. “Are we okay?”

“Yeah, we’re great. Aren’t we?”

You shrug, chewing on your inner cheek as more tears gather at your waterline.

“We’re not, are we?” Tim asks softly, gently wiping your tears away. “What’s going on?”

Someone knocks, and you lean back from Tim, but he follows your movement.

“Tim?” Isabel asks from outside. “Are you in there?”

Tim ducks his head to meet your eyes, but you push his hand off your hip and point to the door.

He sighs and pulls it open, asking, “What?”

Isabel’s brows raise at his tone, and you watch them, though you can’t see much besides Tim’s back.

“We got another tip, the drug buy is going down in thirty minutes,” she explains.

“Then tell narcotics, I’m in the middle of something.”

“What’s more important than this?”

“My wife,” Tim snaps, closing the door and turning toward you again.

“Do you still love her?” you whisper, looking up at him.

Tim freezes, staring at you as he repeats the question to himself. He realizes how this must look to you, though your reaction seems too intense for this to be the only problem.

“No. I love you,” Tim promises, taking your hands. “I loved Isabel once, but you are everything to me.”

“I saw you laughing with her yesterday.”

“She-“

“You seemed happy, and I want you to be happy, but I also don’t want you to leave me. I want to make you happy.”

Tim releases your hand, placing his hand under your chin to tilt your face toward his.

“Hey, look at me,” Tim demands, though his voice and touch are softer than usual. “I am never leaving you. You make me happier than anyone else in the world. Happier than I was with Isabel, even though there is no comparison between you. I’m sorry that I made you feel this way.”

“I was just overthinking it,” you mumble, looking at his collar rather than his face. “I didn’t want to do it alone if you left me.”

“Do what alone?”

Licking your lips, you look back at his eyes to say, “I’m pregnant.”

Tim’s smile grows slowly, and you can’t help but laugh when his hands move to your stomach.

“You’re pregnant?” he repeats reverently.

“Yes, I am. You’re going to be a dad, Sergeant Bradford.”

Tim bends to kiss you, one hand remaining on your barely-there baby bump as the other cups the back of your neck.

“That’s why you’ve been messing with your shirt so much, and why you didn't want to go out for drinks,” Tim realizes quietly.

“You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you. Just like I knew you weren’t okay yesterday and this morning, I just didn’t want to push you.”

You smile at Tim, wishing you had remembered how amazing he is and chosen to talk to him rather than overthink and grow scared of him leaving you. Someone knocks on the door and Tim groans.

“I know you’re in there,” Angela calls. “Open up.”

Tim shakes his head as he opens the door. You smile and nod at Angela, and she claps her hands together in front of her chest before hugging you.

“We’re having a baby!” Angela cheers.

“Uh, no, we are having a baby,” Tim corrects, pointing between himself and you.

“You made her cry, Timothy.”

“I apologized.”

Angela looks at you with narrowed eyes, and you nod.

“Then shared custody it is,” Angela decides.

“Do I get the baby at some point?” you ask.

“You have it for nine months,” Tim argues. “I get it after.”

“What makes you more worthy than me?” Angela asks.

“It has my DNA, Lopez.”

“Tim?” Isabel asks, approaching the open door. “Are you sure you don’t want in on this?”

“Yeah, I’m busy, but thanks for helping,” he answers. After Isabel walks away, Tim looks at you. “She made me laugh by telling me that whatever had changed since she went to rehab was good for me. That was you.”

“Wow,” Angela drawls. “Tell the love of your life, the pregnant love of your life, that you were laughing at her. That’s not a good way to get custody.”

You laugh, leaning against Tim as he pulls you close. He truly is the love of your life, and no matter how much you overthink, you know deep down that he’s yours forever.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader #tw pregnancy

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yoon-kooks · 1 year

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paired & pierced | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When your professor assigns a collaborative midterm project, you’re paired up with Jeon Jungkook, the quiet grumpy smartass who keeps to himself and doesn’t fuck with popular kids like you. If you can win him over, he might give you a taste of the tatted and pierced body he’s carefully tucked away beneath those oversized hoodies.

⛓️word count: 5.3k

⛓️warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected rough sex, daddy kink, good girl kink, she's tight, he's big, fingering, mutual masturbation, begging, edging, orgasm denial, cumshot, dick tattoo, not the soft jjk i usually write

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: this is a request from @screamertannie !💖 im not used to writing dom/sub stuff but i tried!! paired & puppy-eyed is jungkook's pov✨

It’s become somewhat of a pre-class ritual for the gals to gather around your desk to discuss anything from the latest frat party hookups to guessing the lengths of your male classmates. The gossip doesn’t particularly interest you, and you’ve never once contributed to the cock talk. But who are you to tell them to leave you alone? If people naturally gravitate toward you, you should see it as a good thing.

“I heard that hottie Tim is single again,” Blue Hair Girl says, turning to you with the curious eyes of a true gossiper. “Y/N, you were hanging out with him at that party last weekend, weren’t you? Is he as big as they say?”

“Didn’t see it.” And you’re glad you didn’t. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt when he approached you, but he kept pulling you in for PDA conveniently when his ex was in sight. He was clearly using you for something you want no part of. In the end, you let him off easy by saying you had to leave early to feed your fish (you don’t have any fucking fish).

“Aw, that’s too bad.” Blue Hair Girl and the others give you a few pouty frowns.

“Yep.” Not really.

“Well, speaking of hotties, I’ve been trying to get Hoseok’s attention for a week now,” Nose Ring Girl sighs. She suddenly grasps your hands and pleads, “Wait, Y/N, you’re friends with him, right? Think you can give me his number?”

You wouldn’t call Hoseok a “friend”—he’s more of an acquaintance you happen to be friendly with, much like everyone sitting around you. But you do have his number. You have a lot of people’s numbers on your phone even though you can’t match any of their names to their faces.

“Here.” You flash your phone screen with Hoseok’s contact info before Nose Ring Girl. Her eyes light up like fireworks.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! You’re the best!” she squeals.

Toward the end of class, your professor announces something that makes your stomach turn.

“The midterm will be a partner project where you have to debug the code I assign to you and add on to it in a creative way,” she explains. “And because I’m nice, I’ll let everyone choose their own partners. Please let me know who you’ll be working with before taking off.”

You hate this. You’re surprisingly okay about the debugging part because the masochist in you kind of enjoys it, but you’re not okay with the partner part. When it comes to choosing partners, it never ends well for you. Because despite how many people you surround yourself with, you always struggle to find someone who chooses you before anyone else.

You’re no one’s number one.

This time is no different. The girls who were so happy to be gossiping at your desk an hour ago are partnering up with one another on the other side of the room. Among them, Nose Ring Girl doesn’t appear to have coupled up yet, so she might be your only shot. Besides, you did her a favor earlier by giving her Hoseok’s number. The least she can do is partner up with you.

“Y/N, guess what?” She skips over to your desk with a big fat smile on her face. “I just texted Hoseok, and he asked to partner up with me. It’s all thanks to you, babe!”

“Oh, cool.” You try not to sound so disheartened.

She gives you a quick hug before heading back to the boy you indirectly set her up with. You’re happy for her, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t suck. Whether intentional or not, it feels like everyone who comes near you just wants something from you—love advice, a boy’s number, PDA to make their ex jealous, or even answers to the homework—which is fine to an extent. The problem is that people keep taking, and you’re tired of not even getting the bare minimum in return.

To top it all off, Big Tim is headed your way. Yes, you want a partner. No, it’s not going to be him. You’ll pick literally anyone else in the class over him. The question is: who else doesn’t have a partner yet? People are paired up left and right.

Except for maybe the boy sleeping in the seat right next to you.

“Jungkook,” you say in a half-hushed half-hurried voice. The boy doesn’t move an inch. Maybe he’s dead.

You hop out of your chair, stand in front of his desk, and tap on the wooden surface in front of his face. Still no response.

Aware that Big Tim is inching his way closer, you crouch down to hide as if that’ll buy you more time. The boy in front of you needs to wake up right now.

You reach toward his slumped-over body and peel off his hood. There’s a good chance he isn’t dead and just didn’t hear you because he had earbuds in or something. You hope.

No earbuds. But you do find something worth noting—a trail of empty piercing holes up his earlobe. You don’t know Jungkook all that well, but he’s been in a bunch of your comp sci classes and you’ve never seen any piercings on him. You’d remember something like that because you’re a huge sucker for boys covered in piercings and body art. All you remember is that he’s quiet and always gets the highest grades on exams because he’s a genius or whatever.

“Hey Jungkook,” you whisper into his ear and tap one of his fingers. A sleepy eye finally peeks at you. Thank god he isn’t dead. “Wanna be partners?”

He sits up slowly, adjusts his glasses, and looks around the classroom before turning back to your puppy eyes. “Sure, I guess.”

“Good, good,” you sing, scurrying back to your seat. Partner secured. Mission accomplished. Just in the nick of time.

“Y/N, still looking for a partner?” Big Tim asks at your desk.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry.” You give an apologetic smile. You really need to stop that. If you had just been brutally honest with him the other day at the party, he wouldn’t be here bugging you now.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” He points a finger at “that kid” who appears to have gone back to sleep.

You nod even though you were the one who technically asked Jungkook.

“And you said yes?”

You nod again. Big Tim continues to stare as if he’s waiting for you to abandon Jungkook for him. Maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole in the first place, you wouldn't be actively avoiding him like the plague. He had his chance.

After several awkward seconds, he finally backs off and Jungkook rises from the dead once more.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you,” Jungkook yawns as he fluffs his bedhead around. He looks so nice and toasty in that hoodie. No wonder why he falls asleep in class so easily.

“That’s not what he wanted.” He wanted to use you to hurt someone else. And you don’t want to be taken advantage of anymore.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” That’s just the illusion you’ve created. It feels so fake.

You shake your head. “Let’s just say, if a house were on fire and these people had a choice to save either me or one of their actual friends, I’d burn down with the house 10/10 times.”

“And who would you save?” he challenges you. That’s an easy question.

“No one.”

“Good answer.” The edge of his lips curves upward ever so slightly. “Alright, if it’s cool with you, I’ll just do the project myself and slap your name on it. Shouldn’t take me longer than an hour.”

“Wait, I wanna contribute too, you know,” you argue. He might be a smartypants, but you’re not the type of person to slack off and make him do all the work. You wouldn’t be surprised if other people take advantage of him on group projects like this. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t even bother with fake social interactions with peers the way you do. You admire him for that. “We should meet up and work on it together over the weekend.”

“I’m busy,” he says. Bullshit. You can tell when people make up excuses to get out of things because you’re guilty of it too. The difference is that Jungkook doesn’t sugarcoat it with coverup stories like needing to feed your nonexistent fish. Why do you find that so attractive?

“Busy with what?” You flutter your eyelashes and challenge him the way he challenged you. The fact that you’re fighting over the right to help with the project is both silly and refreshing. Usually, it’s the opposite where you’re forced to plead with your group to pull their own weight. But here you are, practically begging the boy to let you do some coding with him. Him pushing you away is a huge turn-on.

“My newborn.” He says it with such a straight face that you take his word for it.

“You have a child?” Your eyes sparkle. That either makes him a young single dilf or a committed family man you probably shouldn’t be batting your eyes at. For everyone’s sake, you hope it’s the former. “If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?”

For a long while, he just blinks at you like you’ve said something horribly wrong. Oh no. Maybe he’s still with the kid’s mom and now he thinks you’re trying to invade their space and be some kind of homewrecker.

“I was just fucking with you…” he admits. Why does it feel like he has secondhand embarrassment from your gullible ass? It’s fine, though. You much prefer being gullible over the homewrecker angle. Then he inputs his number and address into your phone. “But if it makes you feel better, come babysit my kid tomorrow.”

The next day, you wake up a little earlier, dress a little cuter, and feel a little more excited than usual. You’re usually indifferent (if not stressed) about hangouts and parties, but Jungkook is different. It’s fun talking to him, and you don’t have to put on a fake smile around him. He’s even got that hot grumpy boy vibe that you’re determined to win over.

After knocking on his door, you wait for a good minute but there’s no response. Maybe he’s still asleep or butt-naked in the shower. You would’ve messaged him that you were on the way, but you were scared he might have second thoughts and cancel the meetup altogether. You’ve lost count of how many times that’s happened to you in your college career.

Just as you lift your fist to knock again, the door swings open. The boy who stands before you has a full sleeve of tattoos, too many piercings to count, a whole man bun, and a handsome face that looks exactly like Jeon Jungkook’s. You didn’t know he had an identical twin with a totally different style. If he wore glasses with a hoodie and took the man bun and piercings out, he’d literally be your quiet neighbor from coding class. It’s fascinating.

“Isn’t it common courtesy to give someone a heads-up before showing up at their door?” he says with his phone in hand. Same grouchy attitude though. You love it.

Wait. You suddenly remember all those mysterious piercing holes you discovered on Jungkook’s ear less than 24 hours ago.

“Why do you look like that?” You point a finger at him as if your question isn’t already rude enough. Maybe you should rephrase it. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

“Maybe.” He lets you into his home, but you’re more concerned about all the sick art on his arm. If he ever rolled up his sleeves in class, you know you’d be too distracted to focus on the lecture. Perhaps that’s why he keeps it all hidden. He’s just looking out for you and your higher education. Yeah right.

“Why do you hide all of this at school?” You’re sure everyone would be coming to you for his number if they knew what he was hiding up his sleeve.

“Tattoos and piercings give people something to talk about,” he explains. “And I’m not really a fan of compliments or small talk.”

Oh. He’s aware of the physical and emotional impact his body art would have on anyone lucky enough to see it with their own eyes. Your poor body is already aching to see more.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” Or about how hot you find his lip piercing. You’ve always wanted to kiss someone with a lip ring. You’re feeling pouty all of a sudden so you bring out the puppy eyes again.

He studies the way you shamelessly work your charm on him, and you wonder if he picks up on the temptation in your pupils. “I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment,” he huffs, finally giving in.

You’re quick to wrap your eager paws around his arm and examine it like it’s your most prized possession. The problem is, he has way too many tatts and piercings to fit into a single compliment. You could write a whole essay expressing your love for each piece you see, and that doesn’t even include the ones still buried beneath his clothes.

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” Funny how he’s acting all impatient and bothered by the “fondling” but doesn’t shrug you off of him. In fact, he was the one who lent you his arm in the first place!

“I wish I could see all of them.” That’s your compliment. Because you love the lusting implications behind it.

You flick your eyes up from his arm to his face, and sure enough, he’s got his eye on you as well. It’s almost a crime that it took this long for the two of you to come together like this. You’ve been neighbors in coding class for the past few weeks, and yet you were too busy with the popular crowd and he was too busy not giving a fuck about them. All you want to do now is make up for lost time.

The only thing that distracts you from the boy is a puffy tail minding its own business in the corner of your eye. When you look down, you’re pleasantly surprised to see the tiniest fluffball dropping a mouse toy at your feet.

“Ooh kitty,” you squeal as you squat down to play with the pink-nosed darling. It’s so tiny it fits in the palm of your hand, and its meows sound more like squeaks. “Wait, is this the newborn you were talking about?”

Jungkook nods. “I found her about a week ago and she’s been a menace ever since. Especially in the middle of the night.”

“Is that why you’ve been falling asleep in class lately?” You like the thought of him scolding the kitten for zooming around at 4AM only to fall back asleep with her on his chest. You’ll take a cat dilf any day.

“Yeah. But it also doesn’t help that the professor never says anything important.” He picks up the mouse toy and drops it off with her stash of goodies including a pink bed, a pink blanket, and a pink bunny plushie. The kitten hops into the bed, cuddles up with her bunny, and has the boy cover her up with the blanket. What a spoiled little thing. “So what’s this project about again?”

“You’d know if you were listening!” Gosh, you can’t stand smart people who sleep through every lecture and still come out on top while you’re taking notes and working your ass off. You still want to fuck him though.

“I’m just fucking with you again.” He finally cracks a whole ass smile and it’s beautiful. You’re mesmerized by it as he scoots you over to the computer in his room. “I already finished it, by the way.”

So much for fulfilling your dreams of coding with an exceptionally handsome boy. With a dramatic sigh of disappointment, you run the program on his screen.

As expected, it runs smoothly, free of any bugs. He even threw in an interactive portion with a sleeping kitty. Total cat dad vibes. It’s great, and there’s really no need for you to tamper with the work he’s done. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of being the one to carry you on this project. Besides, you have an idea of how you can spice up the program and expand on the kitty part.

You spend a good amount of time going through the code line-by-line and inserting small bits here and there. Once you get to the kitty part, you add in a function to wake up the cat and have it start dancing around to a few different songs from your favorite kpop group. When it’s all set, you run it back, earn Jungkook’s stamp of approval, and submit it for your professor to grade.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd.” He leans on the chair over your shoulder. You’d correct him on Big Tim’s name, but you’re too focused on the way he looks at you with such gorgeous dark eyes.

“If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd,” you fire back. This is the kind of banter that results from putting two smartasses and an immense amount of sexual tension in the same room together. You want more of it.

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him,” he says rather casually. “Doubt you would be either, judging by that game of dodgeball you were playing yesterday.”

“Well yeah, he’s kind of an asshole.” You shudder at the thought of almost being stuck as Big Tim’s partner. It’s thanks to Jungkook that you escaped that fate.

“Why do you hang out with those people anyway?” He spins your chair around to face outward and lays himself down on his bed next to the kitten who just woke up from her nap. She’s cleaning her paws like a good girl.

“I know I have a lot of shallow connections, but I figure if I surround myself with enough people, I’ll eventually have to run into someone I genuinely like, right?” You hop out of the chair, sit your ass on the edge of the bed, and convince yourself it’s to play with the kitty. She jumps down right away to catch a fly but you don’t chase after her.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, gazing up at the ceiling like it’s the night sky. What did you ever do to deserve seeing this handsome boy and his tattoos all laid out on the bed like this? You’d do it a million more times.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in,” you hum.

“I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it?” he laughs. Why is “Jim” the one name this guy knows from your class? “You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” You shimmy your ass closer to him and block his scenic view of the ceiling with your face. Now it’s you he’s gazing up at. You’re free to admire the tempting ring around his soft lip, the glimmering piercing through his brow, and all his beautiful features that have drawn you to him. You look him in the eye and lie because you know he already knows the truth. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

“Really?” All of a sudden, he pulls your body down against the mattress and climbs on top of you. One hand holds your wrists above your head while the other caresses your cheek. He leans in close but stops half a centimeter from your lips. “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You were begging to work on this project with me yesterday, fondling my arm as soon as you got here, practically eyefucking me a minute ago,” he pauses as his hand unzips your jeans and presses into the folds between your legs. “And you’re pretty wet for me right now.”

You want to lunge at him and devour his lips to prove how right he is, but your arms are still being held captive. He smirks at your failed attempt to bite him. For now, you have to settle for squeezing your thighs against his hand to get the tiniest bit of stimulation.

“So if it’s not me, who’s this boy you’re interested in?” he whispers into your ear as you feel his hand slipping out from your pleasure spot. “I won’t continue until I get an answer.”

It’d be kinda badass if you had the willpower to keep your lips sealed for at least a minute, but you give in after 0.3 seconds. You never had a fighting chance anyway. “It’s you, Jungkook.”

He smashes his lips against yours, his tongue practically down your throat when he says, “Good girl.”

The ring around his lower lip is cold to the touch, but you keep going in for more. You love the way he tastes—like sweet alcohol that encourages you to keep indulging in the high. He’s so addicting.

At the same time, he helps you kick off your jeans and slides his whole hand back into your panties. He swirls his fingers around, coating them in your lust before rubbing over your clit. The jolt of pleasure draws a soft moan from your mouth and gets your body nice and hot. Normally, you’d be eager to get your hands back to join in on the fun, but the boy somehow knows exactly how you like being touched and toyed with. Plus, you kinda like the idea of being so helpless beneath him.

Eventually, your panties come off, followed by your shirt and his. You get the perfect view of his full sleeve as well as the big shark tattoo on his ribs. If you weren’t so horny, you’d drop everything to analyze each piece in depth. But right now, all your weak mind can handle is admiring the shark.

As soon as he lets your wrists breathe, you run your fingers along his ribs, tracing the tattoo from head to tail. The lines are so smooth and pretty. He has great taste in art and apex predators. You’ll have to ask him for the artist later so you can get yourself a baby shark at your hip.

“Got any others I should know of?” you ask with two paws ready to tear his black jeans off of him.

“Just one.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck and sucks hard to mark you as his. You can’t wait for Big Tim to see it on Monday. “You’re gonna have to earn it, though.”

You’ll do anything to get his pants off and find that final tattoo. You need to see his bare body in full, and you have an idea of how to earn it.

“Please?” For the hundredth time, you bring out the puppy eyes because that might be his only weakness. His body twitches a tiny bit, but you realize you have to take it up a notch with the dilf angle. “Please, daddy?”

The word not only makes your face hot but also taunts the bulge ready to burst out of his pants. He watches with immense focus as you unbuckle him and free his hard cock from all the fabric standing in its way.

You assumed you would’ve had to search his skin for that last tattoo, but it’s staring you right in the face. A fat snake slithers along his cock, tempting you to stroke it with its seductive glare. You’d appreciate the design more if not for the fact that snakes eat cute little lizards like salamanders and chameleons, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t incredibly hot.

Without thinking, you wrap both of your hands around his length the same way you had with his arm. Jungkook would probably use the term “fondling” again if he wasn’t so entranced by your touch. If he’s like this with just your hands, you wonder how he’d fare with your whole mouth around him.

Just as you lick the drool from the corner of your lips, he lifts your chin up to meet his gaze. “If you do good today, I’ll let you have a taste tomorrow, yeah?”

Tomorrow is too long of a wait for a starved babe like yourself, but you nod anyway because you want to be praised again.

“Good girl,” he purrs as he removes the final piece of clothing over your breasts. Then he leans back to get your whole bare body in sight. “Can you show daddy how you want to be touched?”

You start by squeezing your breasts together and working your way down to your core. Your legs spread themselves open and your fingers glide right in. One hand pumps in and out of your hole while the other strokes your clit. You’re so wet you’d think you’d already orgasmed several times if you didn’t know any better.

With shy eyes, you glance up at the boy watching your every move. This is the first time someone has ever dropped everything to watch you touch yourself. You usually just tease your clit a little if the cock inside you isn’t enough, but never once has a boy given you his full attention like this. He might not take any notes in class, but he’s definitely jotting a few things down for the next time it’s his turn to play with you.

Your fingers speed up and your panting gets louder. How long is he going to make you suffer before he takes over? The one thing you need right now is for him to fuck you senseless.

But instead of getting handsy with you, he grabs his cock and forces you to watch—not that you’d look away anyway.

“Do you want this cock inside your tight little pussy?” he says rather calmly as he jerks off.

You nod as a gasp for more pleasure escapes you.

“Beg for it.”

“Please daddy,” you whimper, giving up the last of your dignity. “I need you inside my tight little pussy.”

“Such a good girl.” He throws your legs over his shoulders and pushes himself into you. It’s definitely a tight fit, but your body adjusts to him accordingly. You almost lose it when you hear the way he grunts your name.

As he pounds in and out of you, you feel yourself getting dangerously close. “Jungkook, I’m—”

“Don’t cum yet,” he warns. “Not until I say so.”

You wish you’d known he was the type to torture you for one single release. If you’d known sooner, you would’ve tried to pace yourself. Now you’re stuck on the edge without permission to orgasm. You love it here.

In the meantime, he gives you some more sloppy kisses. His tongue doesn’t have to fight for dominance over your docile one, but he’s certainly not holding back. That, in combination with the forceful thrusting down below, is your definition of the best rough sex.

At some point, the pleasure begins to melt altogether into a foggy haze of feral lust. Your moans have been reduced to a broken record machine, and your poor body is just waiting to hear the word to finally hit its high. You don’t even know how much time has passed.

“You poor thing,” he growls into your mouth. On pure instinct, you tighten around him and feel him tense up. “Do you enjoy it when I tease you like this?”

You nod without thinking too hard about it.

“Think you can go another hour?”

Hell no, but you nod anyway.

“I’m not that mean,” he chuckles as his hands slide up and down your limp legs. “But good to know.”

He quickens the pace to build the pleasure back up with you still so tight around him. Your obnoxious moans and whimpers give porn star vibes. He better let you get your release soon if he doesn’t want any complaints from his neighbors.

“Please, Jungkook, I can’t—” you gasp, biting back the impending wave of pleasure. Your claw marks are etched into his ribs. “Please let me cum.”

Satisfied with your begging, he nods with the cockiest smile you’ve ever seen and gives you the okay. It feels like your whole body breaks into a million pieces of pure pleasure. Your back arches, your walls tighten even more around him, and your chest heaves up and down as you ride the wave out.

Not long after, he pulls out and pumps his fat cock over your breasts until they’re covered in his lust like two glazed donuts. He admires your glossy worn-out body for a good while before tossing you a hand towel to clean up. You feel timid and small all of a sudden. What if there’s nothing left to say after the excitement of sex has come and gone? What if he shrugs you aside like everyone else does once they get what they want from you?

“Did you really call me daddy?” He throws his pants back on and joins you back on the bed. You can tell he’s trying his best to hide a smile, but you see through him. It’s adorable.

“I thought you were into it, no?” Your face is flushed with heat again as you slip back into your outfit.

“It’s cute coming from you, I guess,” he shrugs as if he’s not aware of how weak he is to your baby girl charm. “I was just going with it because you said it first.”

“Well if you don’t like it, I won’t say it next time.” You give him a hmph for extra emphasis.

“I didn’t say that,” he clarifies, almost a little too quickly. You knew it.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Your voice is soft.

“Go for it.”

“Why did you invite me over even though you finished most of the project yourself?” It’s been in the back of your mind all day, although you did shove it away during the sex.

“Well, my little demon cat kept me up all night so I thought I might as well work on it. And you were hard set on coming here, weren’t you?” he says. You nod for him to continue. “But also, I wanted you to know that there’s at least one person in our class who’d save you from that house on fire.”

He’d choose you. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to you.

“Yeah, but you hate everyone else, so I’m your only option.” Your smartass can’t help but point out the flaw in his statement. If anything, it’s you challenging him one last time.

“Maybe you’re the only option that matters,” he hums to himself as if those words don’t mean a thing. Who knew a grumpy boy could say such soft things? And who knew you’d fall for it?

If a hundred shallow friendships is what it took to bring you to this moment—this boy on this bed—then you’re glad you took that route. And you’re even happier that that route ends where this new one begins.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook #jungkook #bts

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schrijverr · 3 months

Text

Jason’s Shitty Day

Jason gets arrested by Superman and Wonder Woman, while undercover as Red Hood in a criminal organization. Problem is that they don’t know he knows Batman and trying to get free only poses more problems. Especially when it’s Dick, not Bruce that comes to break him free.

This work is inspired by Undercover by InvalidStuff on AO3.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jason curses under his breath as he runs for his life through the streets of Metropolis. He can’t believe that this is how he’s going to die for the second time in his life; by the hands of the blue boy scout and his idol.

Okay, maybe he’s being a dramatic, like Bruce they try not to kill their villains, but unlike Bruce they don’t have a strict no killing policy backed up by trauma, so there is a gray area and Jason knows he’s made himself a prime target, being at the top of the Justice League wanted list and all.

Right now it seems ridiculous how he lorded that over the little demon spawn last time they all ate dinner together. The shrimp might not be an assassin anymore, but he still envies Jason’s notoriety all the same.

It’s one of the reasons he told B not to remove him, something he’s regretting now as he rounds a corner, nearly slamming into the building in his haste.

A part of him knows that running is useless, both Superman and Wonder Woman stumbled upon him in an attempt to dismantle the same organization he’s been involving himself in. They assumed him to be the ring leader, because of course they are one of the few members of the Justice League that are actually up to date on their wanted list.

Fucking fuck!

If this were Gotham, he would have had the upper hand, since he knows the terrain and both would be more cautious taking anyone down when Batman forbids metas in his city. However, here in Metropolis he’s more easily confused and the bright city doesn’t allow for him to slip out from under the sight of two of the most powerful people on earth.

So, he isn’t that surprised when Superman’s shadow falls over him, right as he rounds another corner where he comes face to face with Wonder Woman.

He skids to a halt and curses his luck again. His admiration of Wonder Woman never wore off and he’ll likely never live down the mortification of meeting her like this. Right now, he really hates that Bruce is a paranoid fucker, who never let any of his kids near the Justice League. He totally would have made a better impression as the starry-eyed fucker he used to be back as Robin.

However, instead he’s stuck between her and Superman and the only thing he can do is attempt to fight them. Great. B is going to owe him for this.

Jason lets out a roar and charges towards Wonder Woman, whose lasso makes him trip. It forces him to hit the deck and within seconds, Superman is on him, wrestling him to the ground. Of course Jason puts up a fight, never stopping his movements as he kicks and bites, even though that hurts him more.

He knows that Superman is stronger than him, but he also knows that he is stronger than an eel, yet the bastards are hard to catch. So he tries his hardest to impersonate an eel.

A part of him hopes that there are no cameras nearby, because if Barbara or Tim get wind of this, they will get that footage and it will haunt him for the rest of his fucking life. The great Red Hood, wiggling on the ground, being mortified in front of stupid Superman and amazing Wonder Woman and over crimes he didn’t even commit. It’s shameful.

But nothing to be done about that now.

Still, he tries to maintain a little of his reputation, by threateningly growling: “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” when Superman reaches out to take off his helmet.

Superman’s hand stills and he cautiously asks: “Why not?”

“Because the explosives will blow and you can say bye bye to my head,” Jason answers, hoping that now that they’ve apprehended him, they’re not planning on killing him.

“What?” Superman chokes, as Wonder Woman demands: “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Pays to be cautious,” Jason shrugs as well as he can while being bound on the floor. And it is being cautious, nothing more. He’s not paranoid like B is, no matter what Dickhead says. When you’re a dead man walking, it’s better for people not to know.

Superman likely uses his X-ray vision, because he’s quiet for a second, before he gasps, his hands twitching. However, Jason has to give him very, very minor credits for swiftly moving on with his interrogation after learning that – though perhaps that’s because he isn’t likely to get blown up alongside Jason, should the bomb go off.

“Your helmet is led lined,” Superman comments, actually sounding a bit miffed about it.

Jason has to swallow a snort and just shrugs again, this time with a bit more little shit thrown in, as he repeats: “Pays to be cautious.”

Wonder Woman apparently has had enough, because she tightens the lasso around his feet, making it glow as she asks: “What are you doing here?”

“Working,” Jason spits out, having trained with Bruce about being able to answer with truths without giving anything away. He is glad for that training now, but he still can’t believe that he is interacting with Wonder Woman and it’s like this.

“What kind of working?”

“Worming my way to the top.”

“You’re not the leader?” Superman asks, sounding surprised. Jason already guessed that they assumed that, but rolls his eyes anyway. Who goes in without doing any research? Do they not know the importance of intelligence?

“No, does this look like Crime Alley to you?” he shoots back.

“So what are you doing here outside Gotham then?” Wonder Woman asks.

It’s a valid question. And a question Jason can use. He’s obliged to tell the truth, but that doesn’t mean the whole truth, so he answers: “Worrying Batman.”

That makes the two heroes pause as they look at each other then back at him, suddenly a little less certain.

Under the mask, Jason grins. He and B still aren’t on perfect terms, but he doesn’t see green anymore whenever they’re face to face and they’ve actually been working on their relationship, hence Jason being at family dinners and out here doing this infiltration mission for the old man.

However, that answer can also be interpreted as him creating chaos that Batman is worrying about, which would make it an issue they’d call him about.

They already might have anyway, since he’s a Gotham rogue and they know Batman likes to deal with those himself, even if they can fall under another hero’s jurisdiction by not being in Gotham. But they also might not have. So, by doing this, he’s implying that whatever he’s doing is linked back to Gotham, which makes it so they’ll have to call B.

Usually, Jason doesn’t want Bruce’s help. Ever. Not when it comes to professional things. He is his own vigilante now, he’s independent and has his own plans. Batman should ask before interfering and Jason is too old and their relationship too tattered for a father figure to help. So, he’d be spitting and screaming whenever the old man even tries.

This time isn’t the same, though. This time he’s in bigger trouble than he’s ever been before and he can’t get out of it by himself. Well, he might, but only if they drop him off at a local police station, which isn’t likely to happen with how high-profile he is.

He can get out of prisons, of being kidnapped, being thrown into a space war, of being discovered as a mole, of nearly all torture. But the Justice League? He knows B grumbles about them being unprofessional, but they still hold a lot of power. He is screwed without B right now.

Still, Bruce has always stressed the importance of not letting anyone know they’re connected. To the League, Robin was never anything more than a rumor and Batman works alone. It’s to protect all of them and despite their past, Jason doesn’t want to endanger them… doesn’t want to disappoint Bruce either. Which is stupid and he’s ignoring it as hard as he can.

Besides, even if he tells them, they aren’t likely to believe him. And Jason doesn’t want the knowledge that he’s a good guy, playing a bad guy out on the streets. He admires Wonder Woman a lot, but her and Superman aren’t great liars. They’d tip people off and he can’t have that.

So, he has to convince Superman and Wonder Woman that they have to call Batman and maybe B can convince them to let him go.

The silence after his comment has dragged on for a bit. To take advantage of it, he chuckles: “Oh, big bad heroes didn’t see that coming? What? Did you think he scared me and I moved out? Tsk, don’t make me laugh. My haunt is still my haunt, all I do leads back home.”

Then he starts struggling again. They haven’t even bound his arms. It would have been better to try when they were still distracted, but they’ll likely capture him again and he has broken his bones enough times already, thank you very much. Better to play at being a flight risk so they’ll move him to a more comfortable place than the dirty street.

Indeed, Superman is played like a fiddle and hauls him upright, saying: “We’ll take you back to base for interrogation.”

Wonder Woman takes the lasso off his legs and instead binds his arms. Smart move on her part, though Jason can’t believe that neither of them question whether bringing a very dangerous criminal back to their base is a smart idea. Didn’t B train them better than this? Have some sort of secondary location for questioning people if you must, don’t bring them home!

However, he doesn’t mention it and lets them take him to a Zeta-Beam, so they can get to the Watchtower. It’s a step closer to B, thus a step closer to freedom, he isn’t going to argue with that. Let Batman rip into them when he finds out.

In the Watchtower, he’s sure to look around. Bruce has never let anyone in here, not even Barbara or Tim, who have to explain how to install the security updates at the Watchtower. God, they’re all going to be so pissed that he got there first.

To make up for that betrayal, he makes sure to look around as much as he can. They’ve of course all stalked the Watchtower on Babs’s monitors, but none of them have actually been, so he’ll have to be able replicate the vibes later.

The vibes are kind of sad.

A bit rude, maybe, but it’s true! It’s all metal and not even that toasty, nor cool, just that gross in between where a sweater is too hot, but you also feel kind of cold. It’s clear B has had input here, because he loves his professionalism.

Jason can still remember the Batcave in its infancy, how much he, Dick and Barbara had to influence before it became what it is now.

All the others don’t remember – except maybe for Tim, who had to pick Bruce out of his self hate spiral – but the Batcave didn’t used to be a little warm for recovering muscle soreness or the cold from outside, there didn’t used to be comfy couches, a fridge with snacks and drinks, or messy piles of works in progress.

He’s going to have a serious word with B when he gets out of here about why he hasn’t implemented anything like that here, when he knows that B naps on those couches and appreciates all the warmth the kids (ugh) brought into the Batcave.

… Well, maybe if he gets out of here, not when. The holding cell they’re pushing him into seems pretty secure and after a second, Jason recognizes it as a Superman containment unit that’s part of B’s contingencies. That makes it also pretty much anyone else proof too.

The shackles he’s locked into are meta proof, however, also Batman’s design, which means that Jason has made it his business to know how to get out of them, because he lives to spite the man most of the time.

Neither Superman nor Wonder Woman have spoken since they started hauling him off to his new little prison and Jason wonders if that is going to change or if they’re going to leave him again.

He also wonders if he should start spouting some sort of monologue to cement himself as a proper villain, but decides against it. It might interfere with a cover story to get him out of here. Anything you say can and will be used against you and all that shit. So, he stays quiet.

There is a chair in the chamber that he’s pushed on and Wonder Woman, starts to wrap her lasso around him again as she states: “We need to know more about this organization of yours. You fought us well and I commend your bravery, however, you posses information we need and you do not seem willing to part with it. But the lasso will make you speak the truth.”

Alarm bells start ringing in Jason’s head, despite feeling thrilled that Wonder Woman just complimented him, so he immediately says: “Hey, hey, hey, can you even do that? Isn’t that unconstitutional or some shit? I mean, I think you need a permit or something to question me like that, I know good old Bats is always up his own ass about right channels and court permissions, shouldn’t you read me my rights? I’ve been arrested enough times to know that’s part of it.”

Red Hood has absolutely not been arrested ever, Jason Todd has, but that’s irrelevant right now. He knows he can’t keep up half truths forever and the actual truth can’t come spilling out. Right now he needs to ensure that Wonder Woman keeps that lasso away from him and remind them that he’s a rogue of Batman, so that they’ll contact him.

Wonder Woman pauses for a second and looks at Superman, who is more versed than her in the world of men.

“He has a point, if this goes deeper than a surface drug deal, then we’ll need to ensure all of them go away for life,” Superman says.

At that Jason would let out a breath of relief, if he hadn’t been trained better than that. He does, however, let his eyes roll, because Supes over there can’t see it and he is allowed to be annoyed that they think it is just some drug bust when Jason has been working for two months to get this neck deep into very fucking shady shit.

“Batman must have some protocol about it,” Wonder Woman says. “I shall look it up, so that we may proceed.”

“You’re not going to call him?” Jason asks, a little surprised, because surely that would be easier than going through the thousands of pages of protocol that B wrote.

Superman squints. “You seem eager to get Batman up here,” he comments. “That’s unusual, most want nothing to do with him. Why?”

Fuck.

He’s used to Gotham villains, who regularly kidnap Batman and want him to pay attention to them, not this fear that he has outside of Gotham. It’s easy to forget too, because B is one of the least scary people Jason knows. Hell, even Dick ranks above him in scariness.

Still, he doesn’t let that show, instead leaning back in his chair as casual as he can, smirking: “I guess, I just appreciate the devil I know is all. You two seem a little boring, no offense.”

“Well, that’s new,” Superman comments and Jason wants to throttle him, because he’s horrible at not letting any information slip past the cracks – and yes, personal relations and reputations are definitely information – he’ll have to remember to mention that to Bruce too.

In the end, Wonder Woman goes to contact Batman and look over their protocol, while Superman stays to watch Jason. It’s the first sensible thing they’ve done, not leaving him alone that is. A part of Jason wants to be annoyed, because now he can’t switch on the com with Babs, since Superman will hear, but he’s just relieved that they have a sense of knowing what to do.

So, they sit in silence.

Superman tries to chat a few times, but Jason knows better than that. You don’t talk, not even small talk. Anything is prying when you’re being interrogated, even if they just want to know your opinion on the weather. Which is making the atmosphere quite awkward.

Luckily, they’re freed from the silence five minutes later when Wonder Woman returns. She says: “Batman says he’ll be here in ten minutes and to not touch or question Red Hood until he gets here.”

Jason is too relieved by the news to judge her for saying that in front of him. Soon B will be here and then he will talk Jason out of here and he’ll be home before he knows it. After today, he can probably convince Alfred to bake cookies with him too. Score.

For the next ten minutes, the atmosphere doesn’t get much better. Jason feels a little more inclined to talk to Wonder Woman, but she is taking Batman’s instructions seriously and with Jason in the room, none of the conversations between Superman and Wonder Woman really take off.

Then the door opens to reveal Batman. For a second Jason can feel a weight be lifted off of him, but then he looks again. The figure is not Bruce, it’s Dick.

What the fuck.

If he weren’t wearing the helmet, he could make a face to demand an explanation, but for now his shoulders will have to do. However, Dick has always been bad at reading Jason’s shoulders when he’s chained up and Jason has a harder time with Dick’s face when he’s playing Batman. So whatever information flow there might have been gets lost in translation.

Dick is one of the few that know Jason did theater in High School, so he’s probably counting on Jason’s yes-and-bullshitting. Which is the only thing that prepares Jason for whatever nonsense he is about to pull out of his ass.

He can’t believe they’re going to lie to Superman and Wonder Woman. What a day this is shaping up to be.

“Hi Batsy,” he grins, hoping that him recognizing Dick will strengthen the cover.

“Red Hood,” Dick greets back. “I knew I’d run into you at some point with this. I’m disappointed, you were doing so well last time. What happened?”

“You know me, I never keep my nose clean,” Jason shoots back, because he’s a crime lord and he doesn’t plan on changing that. His family knows that.

Dick fakes a sigh and sternly says: “You were at least staying in Gotham.” Then he turns to the others and asks: “Where did you find him?” like he didn’t know already.

“Batman, I am glad you came,” Wonder Woman greets. “We have apprehended Red Hood in a drug bust in Metropolis, but we need more information from him. He claims his organization goes back to Gotham, if this goes deeper, we need to know.”

Tsk, what ‘his organization’? Jason had nothing to do with this. Terrible reporting. She could have used ‘the organization’, way more accurate and- oh god, now he’s judging Wonder Woman!

Dick as Batman grunts in acknowledgment and Wonder Woman continues: “We found him in the middle of the warehouse district. The others got away.”

Jason notes that Superman hasn’t said anything yet and shoots him a covert glance. He is frowning at Dick. Jason curses. Dick can do a good Batman when he wants to, but when he does that, he is usually not in good lighting with people who work with the actual Batman regularly.

So, he keeps an eye on the man as Dick gruffly says: “Thank you. I have been tracking his organization these past weeks, if I had known he would branch out, I would have contacted you. I’ll take him back to Gotham for proper interrogation and loop you back in once I know more.”

At that both Superman and Wonder Woman start to look more suspicious and Jason just knows that Dick is going to rip into B later, because why the hell are they surprised at him saying thanks?

Superman finally speaks up: “Why have you been tracking his organization, when he claimed he wasn’t the ringleader when we caught him?”

Damn those investigative reporter instincts, Jason thinks. He needs to distract them from Dick, so they won’t ask any more question. So, he calls out: “I mean, I practically was. Gotham branch is all mine.”

Eyes are back on him, great. Or, well, not truly great, because he hasn’t thought much further than that, but great as in, there is a distraction.

“Red Hood,” Dick admonishes, though Jason can see the relief in his shoulders.

So, he shrugs: “What? I like getting proper credit.”

“Well, you can tell the GCPD all about the things you deserve credit for,” Dick says, leaning in close as he growls.

Fuck, Jason is so making fun of him for that later. After he busted him out of here. Because right now, he has an act to play if he wants to see freedom again. And if he’s honest, he really likes his freedom.

However, before Dick can haul him out of his seat and break him out of here, they’re stopped by Superman: “We caught him in Metropolis, I’d like to question him here first.”

“And he’s my rogue, messing in my city,” Dick snipes back. “He’s got his fingers in all types of pies and I’d like to get him behind bars for it as quick as possible. My way. Because that way works.”

Jason studies Superman and Wonder Woman closely. Dick used the pie expressions, B never is one for expressions, much less pie related ones. And it seems the League figured that out too, because there is a tenseness in their shoulders that wasn’t there before.

Dick must have noticed too, but he’s awaiting their response so he can play into it. However, both know for sure that they’re screwed when Wonder Woman says: “I know you have your way, but you have rarely denied the use of my lasso, especially if it would help your city.”

“Yeah, and you would never just take him without getting more information from us first,” Superman adds. “Who are you?”

“I’m Batman,” Dick repeats, though that’s clearly not going to cut it with the way the two heroes start to close in on him. Jason is starting to feel he’s gonna be on his own here again real soon.

“You’re not. Your heartbeat is wrong,” Superman says.

“Rude, my heart could just have been having an off day,” Dick retorts, obviously giving up on the facade as he darts out of the way and ducks under their attacks and out of the door.

Wonder Woman sets off after him, Superman closely behind. It’s reminiscent of earlier today but then with Dick in Jason’s position. Jason takes a moment to be smug that Dick is definitely getting caught on camera, before taking off through the door himself.

It’s another mental note to bring up to B later and he is starting to wonder if he even trained these people, because that’s truly an amateur’s mistake. Though, perhaps they can be forgiven with the shock of someone managing to break in to the Watchtower without detection while pretending to be one of their own.

His arms are still in the shackles, but there is no time to pick them. Jason also has Zeta-Beam access, if he can just reach the terminal, he’ll be out of here. He’s sure Dick can either talk himself out or that he can come up with a better rescue plan than that.

Where the hell even is the actual Batman? You know, Bruce Wayne?

No time to think about that now, he tells himself, putting the thought out of his mind. He is quickly following the route they’d taken when he got here, but in the opposite direction. He grins when the terminal comes into view.

Skidding to a halt, he quickly starts to put in coordinates. Any coordinates at this point. He’s not used to it, never really traveling via Zeta-Beam much. He hopes he remembers the coordinates of the Batcave after B’s insistence they all learn them and he won’t end up in the middle of the ocean or some shit.

However, before he can beam away, Dick crashes into him when he comes flying into the entrance hall, obviously having thought the same thing as Jason. Only he has two heroes on his trail.

“Fucking fight, Dick,” Jason screams, not even caring that he used the real name, because with Dick you can get away with that. As he attempts to type even faster to get them both away.

Alas, it’s not meant to be, because while Dick is a worthy opponent, he’s fighting two of the most powerful people on their home turf and he doesn’t have anything to fight them with, except for B’s gear that he is less familiar with than his own.

So, while he gets a few good punches in, soon he and Jason are dragged away from the terminal and wrestled to the ground. Now Dick in shackles too.

“Way to go, asshat,” Jason bitches as he lies on the ground for the second time today.

“Oh, like you could have done better. I make a great Batman,” Dick bitches back.

Right at the moment, Flash comes running in, confusedly asking: “What the hell’s happening? I saw it on the monitors, but I didn’t know who to go after first and- Wait, why is Batman in chains? Is he brainwashed?”

“See,” Dick exclaims delightedly. “Flash thinks I make a good Batman.”

“What?” Flash asks confused.

Superman says: “It’s not Batman.”

“He’s not?” Flash says, sounding surprised as he leans over to take a better look.

“Ha!” Dick crows as Jason hisses: “Shut your mouth, dumbass.”

“Who are you and what have you done to Batman?” Wonder Woman exclaims, digging her knee into Dick’s back and making him grunt. Jason has no pity after that stupid stunt.

“I’m Nightwing,” Dick answers and Jason tries to send him a ‘wtf’-look, but is ignored. “I’m a vigilante. I work in Blüdhaven. It’s Gotham’s sister city. Batman’s tied up at the moment, asked me to go in his stead. He didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Lies,” Wonder Woman says.

“Batman would contact us ourselves, not trick us. He’s our ally and we know him,” Superman states confidently.

“No, you misunderstand. He’s quite literally tied up,” Dick says and it dawns on Jason that Bruce Wayne must have been kidnapped when the call came through. In enough of a bind that a miraculous escape would put their identities at stake. Just great. Fucking great.

“He’s taken? We must save him,” Wonder Woman says.

“That’s not necessary,” Dick backtracks, realizing his mistake. “We already have someone on it, don’t worry.”

“Who?” Jason asks.

“The day shift,” Dick answers and Jason mentally translates that to Duke. Good for him. It’s very useful to have someone out there during the day for situations like this.

“Wait, is he claiming to know Batman?” Flash asks. “I mean, I know he’s dressed like Batman, but being captured and all, I thought he was kind of impersonating him and hatching some nefarious scheme, not, like, covering his shift.”

“He is impersonating Batman,” Superman says. “And we can’t trust his claims. He’s here to rescue Red Hood and he is one of Batman’s villains.”

“Oh, so they know him from fighting him,” Flash says, getting what Superman is implying.

“Where have you taken Batman!” Wonder Woman demands.

“I haven’t taken him! Batman isn’t taken,” Dick yelps. “His civvie ID is and he is getting rescued.”

“You know his secret identity? We don’t even know his identity,” Flash exclaims, actually pouting.

“Yes, I know his ID,” Dick says, almost desperate, Jason would feel bad, but he’s kind of given up and is just laying there. “You can check the Zeta-Beam logs, I’m Nightwing, I have access. I work in Gotham’s sister city, we team up sometimes. I know Batman, I promise. I’m just helping him out.”

“Helping him out by getting Red Hood out?” Superman asks, obviously not believing it.

Dick knows how it sounds and lets out a frustrated scream. “Yes!” he insists again. “How did you contact him to come here? How could I have known to come?”

That makes them pause for a second, before Superman shakes his head: “You could have intercepted the message.”

“I didn’t, you know how paranoid B is, his shit is unhackable,” Dick says.

“B?” Flash repeats to himself and Jason mentally face palms. It’s sweet that Dick tried to rescue him, but he feels like he only made it worse.

“We don’t know, maybe you could,” Superman says.

“Oh, he could be a shape-shifter, who took on Batman’s identity and hid the real Batman somewhere else to masquerade as him and help his fellow villains in some sort of plot,” Flash spins a theory.

Now Jason groans out loud and thunks his head on the floor, the impact dampened by his helmet, which is luckily still on. “Why the fuck would he then not take the exact form of Batman?” he asks, exasperated.

“Exactly, just check the logs, I’m Nightwing,” Dick backs him up, almost begging at this point.

“You could have faked that, if you intercepted the message,” Wonder Woman says, not letting Dick up for a second.

“It would make sense,” Flash nods.

“It would?” Superman asks and Jason curses. They should have pushed, the boy scout might have believed them, but the moment’s gone now.

“Yeah, if we bought it, then he could pretend to be Batman for forever and we wouldn’t be suspicious if he acted out of character, because he was a different person, but in our perception still a good guy. It’s smart,” Flash shrugs.

Jason really hates his life, because the Flash is making kind of sense and it appears that there not going anywhere anytime soon.

“I’ll contact Oracle again, Batman’s AI won’t be compromised where his phone might,” Wonder Woman says and Jason has to do a double take. They think Barbara is an AI?

He and Dick share a confused look, however when they hear Barbara pick up, Dick takes the moment to scream: “Tell B to get his ass over here.”

Jason immediately joins in: “O, I’ll owe you if you get me out of here in the next 30 minutes.”

Now all of the heroes present are giving the two of them a confused look as Wonder Woman relays: “We have Red Hood here and an impostor claiming to be Batman. Where is Batman, Oracle? Is he safe?”

While he can’t make out what she’s saying from here, Jason can still hear the amusement in Barbara’s voice as she answers Wonder Woman.

However, whatever she said, must be enough, because when Wonder Woman hangs up, she says: “If our friend does not show up within the next twenty minutes, we are free to go search for him.”

That’s quite fast, Jason thinks. If he could have gotten here so fast, why send Dick first? Jason could have waited for actual Batman. Dick must think the same, because he makes a confused noise, which turns into a little yelp, when Wonder Woman drags him to his feet. Jason starts laughing at him, but gets cut off when he gets hauled to his feet too.

They don’t leave for the cells again though, apparently they’ve decided to hang around here while they wait for B to show up. Flash does leave however, having been on monitor duty before the whole drama went down.

While they wait, Wonder Woman reaches out to Dick, saying: “Let’s reveal your true identity, impostor.”

“No, wait!” Dick yells. “The code states that as a hero, I cannot be discowled or unmasked without my explicit approval. I state that I am Nightwing, a hero, unless you can prove that I am not who I claim I am, you are not allowed to do that.”

Wonder Woman stills again, then asks: “How do you know that?”

“Uhm, I work with B, you really think he doesn’t make me memorize those codes?” Dick shoots back. “And if you knew it wasn’t allowed, why would you do that?” Another thing for on the list.

“You’re clearly a villain, that code does not apply,” Wonder Woman states.

“No, you think I’m a villain. Innocent until proven guilty,” Dick corrects.

“You broke into the Watchtower, that’s not screaming innocent,” Superman points out, which is kind of valid, but Jason has sat in enough on court trails against his own men. He knows that shit wouldn’t necessarily hold up.

“I had a good reason,” Dick huffs and Jason ignores how touched he is that Dick thinks that freeing him is a good enough reason to risk getting destroyed by the Justice League over.

After that, they’re all silent. Wonder Woman and Superman do try to talk with them again, but Dick knows, just as Jason does, that it’s smarter to keep your mouth shut. So they wait quietly as the minutes tick by.

It takes a long time.

By the time they hit seventeen minutes, Jason is starting to get worried B won’t get here in time and then they’ll have to deal with Superman and Wonder Woman tearing into Gotham to try and find their Batman.

Whenever they civvie IDs get taken hostage, it’s usually a media circus after and that’s when rescue doesn’t take overtime. He doesn’t know how Bruce is going to duck out of it. Maybe he has already failed.

Fucking fuck, how badly can one day go? How badly can Jason screw up that he hasn’t just compromised himself and his relation to Batman, but also Dick’s connection to both of them and risked Gotham’s entire vigilante population being found out by two metas, who will go into the city without permission.

It’s clear that Wonder Woman and Superman are getting antsy too, continuously checking the time and looking at the Zeta-Beam, waiting for it to come to life.

Just as they hit the nineteen minute mark, the Zeta-Beam whirs and the crisp voice announces Batman’s arrival. The man himself appearing like some water in the desert, dressed in his previous suit, though his arm is in a cast.

“Batman!” Wonder Woman exclaims in relief, as Superman worries: “What happened to you?”

“A minor mishap,” B replies. And Jason curses, it’s going to be a bitch to keep him out of the field like that and it doesn’t help prove their innocence in the slightest.

“I thought you were going to be busy for way longer,” Dick accuses, probably having been as surprised as Jason was that he could get here this fast.

“Signal is getting better and the broken arm helped me avoid the whole media circus,” Bruce explains apologetically.

“You actually know these two, Batman?” Superman asks, sounding a little hurt, betrayed and confused all at the same time.

“Yes, I honestly thought you wouldn’t notice Nightwing running this errand for me while I was preoccupied,” Batman informs them. “If I had known how today would run, I would have waited and retrieved Red Hood myself.”

There is absolutely no apology in his voice and it’s now doubly confirmed that Dick’s thank you had been a dead give away. Why is he being a dick to his friends? They all would have gotten a sorry if B pulled this shit on them. Dick is so going to lecture him.

“I demand an explanation,” Wonder Woman frowns. “That one is a criminal and we have not heard of Nightwing before. Why does he have access here? Why are you helping Red Hood?”

Batman sighs as if he’d seen this coming, but was hoping it wouldn’t happen. Then he says: “I’m here because Red Hood was undercover for me, you blew his mission. I send Nightwing to get him, because I trust him.”

“And not us?” Superman asks, even more hurt than before. “Batman, you thought we wouldn’t notice you being an entirely different person. You tried to trick us and never even informed us Red Hood worked for you.”

“Hey! I don’t work for that asshole,” Jason snaps, already annoyed since B blew the cover he worked so hard to keep, even if he wasn’t likely to get out of this without giving something away. He knows it’s stupid too, especially in these circumstances, but it’s always been a sensitive topic for him.

Superman and Wonder Woman now look between him and B and B explains: “He’s an independent vigilante, but we team up. I asked his help, he did it as a favor. I never told you, because telling you would compromise him. If we can spin this, it might solidify his standing in the organization, if you had known, you might have let him go and they might not have believed you. It was better this way.”

“I’m really starting to feel like you trust them more than us and that you’ve been lying,” Superman frowns. “We have always respected your privacy and not pried. But you’re keeping things from us. Important things. Things related to our work. And that’s not okay.”

Batman is now between a rock and a hard place and Jason would be more sympathetic if it weren’t B.

“There’s a reason I’m keeping this particular thing,” Batman says without offering any further explanation.

“This is no way to treat your fellow warriors,” Wonder Woman exclaims.

“I’m with her,” Dick pipes up.

“Me too,” Jason adds, because like hell is he siding with Bruce over Wonder Woman.

“You and me both know that we right here, are old enough that you don’t have to do this,” Dick says, almost imploring and Jason holds his breath. He can’t believe Dick is asking Bruce to break their non-association vow here.

“What is he talking about?” Superman demands. “How do you know them?”

B is quiet, assessing the situation, then he utters words Jason never thought he’d hear in front of anyone associated with the League. “They are my sons. I raised them. That’s why I trust them and why I’m here to get them.”

It’s deathly silent for a second, then both Wonder Woman and Superman burst with outrage of never having been told, of being kept in the dark with information like this. How did Batman keep this from them? Why?

Letting them rage for a moment, B speaks up again once they’ve quieted down: “They weren’t always adults and I didn’t know you well enough. I wasn’t going to endanger them. What if you were mind controlled or turned against me? They couldn’t become a target.”

“So what about I work alone?” Superman huffs. “We put effort into pulling you into our group.”

“And that is appreciated and it does take effort to learn how to work together, even if you’re already familiar with teamwork,” B counters. “But yes, I did lie. Having a certain persona here helped keep my children safe. I don’t regret it.”

Despite wanting to be better than this, Jason’s still touched that B would go this far for them. It has always been an insecurity of his, so no matter how shitty it is to the League, he can’t help but feel happy that Bruce chose him over them. That he doesn’t regret it.

Dick, however, doesn’t have that as much and has a different reaction. He pulls free from Wonder Woman’s grip, slackened by circumstance, and says: “And your persona is asshole? Jesus Christ, B, the least you can do is apologize. They got suspicious of me saying thank you, Agent A raised you better than that.”

B at least has the decency to look a little sheepish at that, shocking the two heroes and then shocking them even more when he says: “I am sorry for the trouble.”

“Great,” Jason breaks the tension, stepping away from Superman, because he’s had a roller coaster of a day and he is done. “Glad we got that all settled then. Nice to meet you two, let’s not do it again. If your see me, you don’t know me. Now, let’s to get out of here.”

“Wait, we want more answers,” Wonder Woman stops them.

“Wonder Woman,” B says, finally sounding like himself, tired and a little gruff, but not unkind. “I broke my arm less than an hour ago, I’ve been patrolling all week with three separate Arkham escapes and my kids just got chased and locked up. I need a moment. Promise that I’ll explain better tomorrow. Make it a meeting if you must.”

She still looks reluctant, but Superman is already won over. His kindness is easy to exploit Jason notes out of habit.

“Alright, Batman, but I expect you not to duck out,” he says.

With Superman allowing them to leave, Wonder Woman agrees too: “Yes, answers can come tomorrow. But know that I will come into Gotham to find you, should you not arrive.”

Jason sees Dick suppressing a snort. He has to agree that. With the forewarning and all of them there, they could stop her should B not want to go tomorrow. They’re not going to, B can face his own consequences and Jason doesn’t actually want to fight Wonder Woman, but it speaks to both of their naivety about their city.

“Thank you,” B says, probably feeling he’ll worsen Dick’s lecture otherwise.

Then he punches in his code on the Zeta-Beam and they’re in the Batcave before they know it, Barbara and Alfred waiting for them.

Barbara smirks: “You have no intention of letting them know about the others, do you?” Jason guesses she had already been here with Dick as often happens whenever one of them is kidnapped as a civilian.

“No,” B grunts.

Jason rolls his eyes and finally removes his helmet, holding out his shackles for Bruce to undo without a word. He’s going to crash in his room upstairs, eat some of Alfred’s delicious cooking and then come up with some way to make this whole thing work for him. He’s already invested two months in this stupid op, he’s not letting one shitty day ruin it.

While B undoes his shackles, Dick bounces over to Babs to let her undo his, saying: “Do you know the Justice League thinks you’re an AI?”

“Of course, people tell secrets to computers, not people they’ve never met before,” Babs shrugs easily.

“Oh you’re evil,” Dick grins and Jason agrees with a nod.

Now free, he also makes his way over to her and says: “What do I have to do to get the footage of Dickiebird here getting wrecked by Superman and Wonder Woman?”

“Hey, you got destroyed too,” Dick pouts.

“Not in the Watchtower while dressed as B. I looked cool,” Jason counters, half of that a lie. Fuck, he really hopes Babs hasn’t already found footage of his own take down.

“Get me those snacks I like next time you’re abroad and I’ll throw them in the group chat,” she says.

“Deal,” he shakes her hand, before Dick can interfere.

“You two are so mean,” he pouts even more. “You got taken down too, bet you looked stupid.”

“I did not,” Jason protests immediately, his cheeks feeling hot.

“Camera footage says otherwise,” Babs grins evilly, because she’s an evil evil-doer, who is out to get Jason with her evil ways.

“DO not show him that!” he shrieks, jumping to get her hands away from the keyboards, before she can pull it up, while Dick tries to fight him off so she can.

A part of him still can’t believe that today he nearly died for the second time at the hands of the blue boy scout and his idol, nor that Dick broke in to the Watchtower dressed as Batman to come get him.

Later he’ll have to deal with B’s paranoia over the Justice League knowing about him and Dick, write a report about the weak points of the Justice League, then worry about his own mission and all of that will be a hassle. But right now he’s worrying about making sure his eel footage never sees the light of day and wrestling with his brother and Babs.

All in all, today could have been worse.

A/N:

I don’t think the Justice League is incompetent btw, I think Jason (and the other bats) are just kind of intense with their own security and a little judgmental.

#rr writing #batman #justice league #jl #jla #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #superman #wonder woman #dick grayson #bruce wayne #barbara gordon #flash #red hood #dc #dc comics

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mangoisms · 9 months

Text

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter five: i am found on the ground | read chapter four

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.5k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: if you'd like to see my notes (and my thoughts behind a certain inclusion of a character in this chapter), you can find them here <3 (also i'm on fire is playing in the last scene the formatting of the lyrics just killed me so i had to get rid of it thank you all)

“You just can’t beat it.”

“It was okay.”

You turn sharply to look at Tim, who shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips.

In the kitchen, Steph snorts. “Here we go.”

You ignore her. “Okay? Inception was okay—”

“Uncalled for—”

“But true. This?” You gesture to his flatscreen TV, where the end credits for Interstellar are playing; you’re a little bit red-eyed from the end scenes with Cooper and Murph but no less passionate. “This is more than okay. It’s—”

“Not technically scientifically accurate.”

You grab a pillow and gently whack him with it. He tries to hide a growing smile. You don’t understand what exactly he’s smiling at but you don’t care in this moment.

“It’s not about scientific accuracy, duck boy, it’s about love.”

“Yeah!” Steph yells from the kitchen. “Go love! Woo!”

You gesture in her direction. “He literally said it in the movie, Tim. How can you miss it? And Brand, too!”

“It wasn’t enough to save who she loved, though,” he points out—ever the devil’s advoactate, honestly…

“But it was there and she knew that, too, and she was okay with it. And it was enough for Cooper and Murph, too. I mean, literally to the point that she was able to save humanity. Right? Brand said it—love is the one thing we are capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space.”

Tim looks… well, far from upset or annoyed. He seems amused, almost… almost fond, the way he looks at you, but it’s too much for you to handle, so you look away, pouting a little.

“And also, okay, I know entering the black hole wasn’t ‘scientifically accurate’ but that’s the point, that some higher being switched them out so he didn’t die. You do have to admit, however, that the depiction of the black hole, which I’ll give Nolan props for, was great.”

“Okay, true,” he concedes. “The score was pretty good, too.”

“It was excellent.”

Steph steps out from the kitchen, looking at her phone. “Give me a sec, you guys, my mom’s calling me.”

You both give her an affirmative and she steps out the front door. You and Tim quickly resume your discussion.

“Inception’s score was good, too,” he points out.

“Bah. They both had Zimmer. Of course it’s going to be good. But Interstellar has the benefit of being enhanced by it because it’s already a good movie. I mean, it surprises even me that Nolan could manage to pull off something like this.”

“He has the range,” Tim protests.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you Nolan stan. I’m still a bit hung-up on you saying it’s just ‘okay.’ I mean, sure, it could just be me projecting my own grief about my dead parents onto the story about a dad crossing space and time to get back to his daughter but still!”

That’s the understatement of the century. The scenes between Cooper and an old Murph never fail to make you tear up. Any of the scenes between them, really.

The prolonged silence from Tim tips you off and it’s only when you look at him do you realize your mistake.

His eyes are wide as he looks at you, surprised, with something else.

“Oh, it’s fine—”

“Your parents are—”

You both stop.

You clear your throat, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I… I mean, sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I joke about it sometimes.”

“No,” he says. “It’s okay. It just surprised me. I guess… I don’t want to—I mean—I’m, uh, sorry?”

You shift on the couch, turning more toward him. “It’s okay. It was… well, not that long ago, but—”

You stop, because your instinctive response is ‘I’m over it’ but that’s not totally true, is it? You don’t think you’ll ever be over it. One part of you still feels horribly robbed of them, and some days, their deaths feel so monumental you can barely get through the day, while others, you can function normally for the most part.

“No, I understand,” he says softly. “My parents, too. My mom when I was younger but my dad died when I was sixteen. It’s… not really something you get over, I think. No matter how much time passes.”

A quiet moment between you. It’s not like he’s tried to make you feel ostracized—if anything he’s gone out of his way to make you feel welcomed here, to make sure he and Steph don’t get too caught up on their own and they include you—but… This is a common thread between you and you know he knows and you know he knows you know.

“Yeah… Yeah, exactly.” You pause, glancing at the TV, where the credits are rolling now. “It happened when I was fifteen. The, um, earthquake.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again and you know he means it.

“I’m sorry about yours, too.”

Tim nods, the look on his face still soft, still gentle, then he glances back at the TV.

“I was kidding, you know,” he says next. “It, uh, really was good. Better than I thought it would be. Scientific inaccuracy aside…”

“It’s good,” you press, ignoring the last comment. “And I don’t think it was trying to fool anyone into scientific accuracy.”

“Also true. I just…”

“Wasn’t expecting it to hit that hard?” you guess, smiling. “Yeah, I get it. Cried like a baby when I first saw it. You’re stronger than me for getting through it dry-eyed.”

“Oh, I’m just waiting for later,” he says. “Saving my sorrows for my pillow. That kind of thing.”

You laugh loudly. He smiles.

“It does unearth all the dead parent trauma, though,” he says.

“Oh, tell me about it. Cooper wanting to try to go back home after they find out Dr. Brand never intended to help those on earth…”

“And then having to sacrifice himself to give Brand a chance,” he finishes, shaking his head. “Only for it to turn out well in the end. If only real life was like that.”

A shade too dark for right now but you can’t say you disagree.

The front door opens. Steph slips back inside, raising an eyebrow at you two. Though she hardly means what you think she means, you find yourself inching away from Tim, turning back forward slightly. You’d hate to give her the wrong impression.

And of course, that is not at all what she is thinking about.

“Why do you two look like someone just died?”

“Well, we were just talking about our dead parents, so,” Tim responds without missing a beat.

You burst out laughing. Steph groans.

“I was wrong. You two shouldn’t be friends.”

“It’s too late for that, I think,” Tim says, grinning.

You can’t help but grin, too.

She groans again.

Catwoman is your next vigilante visitor.

All skin-tight latex and a coquettish attitude that makes your face hot.

Luckily, she doesn’t appear to mind. She even pays for her stuff.

(“I was told,” she purrs. “And I don’t much like being told what to do but… you’re cute enough to convince me to go along with it.”

You don’t think the noise you made was human but it amused her enough.)

Alongside that, you have the others who regularly drop by. Your vigilantes, but then, as you pick up a few weekend afternoon shifts (much to Steph’s disapproval), some normal faces, too.

Barbara, a red-haired woman with sharp green eyes who has a stately and intimidating aura to her but is always pleasant when you two chat. Sometimes she has another woman with her, a pretty blond Barbara calls D. Then, that one man, the stocky blonde with the tortoise-shell glasses and a quiet but kind disposition, who eventually introduces himself as Jean-Paul.

You spot him during one of your weekend shifts, waiting his turn as you finish ringing up a harried-looking lady. Another man joins him, a little bit younger, you think, with dark hair and an odd white streak at the front; they’re both dressed in scrubs.

“It’s been a while, Jason.”

“You know how it is, JP. Work doesn’t stop. How’s Leslie?”

“Doing everything at once and somehow managing to pull it off. I’m sure she’d like to see you, if you could find the time.”

“Sure. I’ve got a couple days off from the hospital. I could drop in. Lend a hand.”

A soft chuckle. “If she doesn’t turn you around and tell you to go rest.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

He coughs. The other man snickers.

Just as the lady leaves, Jean-Paul says, “Let me pay.”

“I won’t say no.”

They both step up to the counter. Jean-Paul gives you a small smile in greeting and seems to decide to forgo your usual small talk—probably because of his new company, which you’re a bit grateful for. The other man—Jason?—nods, eyeing you curiously. Why, you have no idea. But that’s the only thing odd about it. You ring up the coffees without issue and soon, they’re stepping out, Jean-Paul giving you another small smile in goodbye. You return it.

Having regulars like that reminds you of the ones you had in Keystone City. Kind Mr. Garrick, who stopped by about once a month for lottery tickets, his wife typically in tow; they were always kind to you, always a little bit concerned over your wellbeing, whether you were getting enough sleep or eating well. Painfully reminiscent of grandparents you never had.

A little more frequently, there was Linda Park-West, a face you easily recognized from WKEY-TV for the Channel 4 News. She didn’t miss much, always so perceptive, but kind to you, sometimes testing your PR skills as a reporter. She usually stopped by for coffee before work but on occasion, she brought along her kids, Jai and Iris, to let them pick out something for themselves, too. Quite literal balls of energy, they were a handful but always good-intentioned.

You miss them all a lot. More than you thought you would. The Flash, too. Especially these days. What you’d give to talk to him about all this stuff…

But you’ve managed on your own since your parents died. You can keep doing it.

The following week, Tuesday night, you get another new vigilante visitor.

This one?

Robin.

He is, admittedly, a figure you are considerably more scared of. It’s a bit… silly on your part, too, because he is a kid, you think, a teen at least, but, well, teens can be scary. This one certainly is. If only because of his close proximity to the one who scares the most. The one who you are happy not to have visited you thus far and Robin’s appearance… well, you don’t entirely know if it’s a good thing.

But it might be foolish to assume that Batman doesn’t know this is happening.

But then thinking of him knowing you exist makes you horribly anxious, so, you shelve the thought for now and try to focus on the situation.

Which is…

The three dogs in tow collapse in front of the door, panting, tongues lolled out, appearing to enjoy the air-conditioned bliss of the inside of the store. Robin stares at you, his face a blank mask.

“Water?”

“At the back. Far left.”

He nods and turns.

You wait there, uncertain, glancing at the dogs. They look worse for wear, fur dirty and matted, old scars healed over; the sight tugs at your heart, so you step around from the counter, heading to the coffee machine. The store doesn’t carry bowls but the extra-large soda cups are wide enough to work for now.

Robin appears near you, several big bottles of water held in hand. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you and the cups.

“Don’t have any bowls,” you admit. “So, I thought this might work.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Styrofoam. Wasteful. But it’ll do.”

“Yeah, Circle K isn’t breaking barriers in terms of eco-friendliness.”

He says nothing to that, just turns and heads for the dogs. You follow him, not that turned off. You’ve heard rumors about this particular Robin. He does a good job but can be… rough around the edges. Like Bat, like Robin, you guess.

Glancing at the cups, you get an idea, stopping to duck around the counter and grab a pair of scissors. You cup off the top half of each of them, Robin taking them as you go, until all three cups are cut, allowing for the dogs to have better reach.

You join him with the last one, filling it with cold water. Most of the dogs are so heat tired, they only lift their heads to drink, seemingly unable to stand.

You and Robin stay kneeled in front of them, filling the cups when necessary. You gently stroke the head of one nearest to you, smiling as his tail thumps against the tiles.

Robin says nothing else and neither do you. That’s how his time there goes, spent in silence, petting the dogs, letting them cool down and rest.

Eventually, he starts to leave, and you can’t help but ask, “What’s going to happen to them?”

He regards you for a moment and you get the unnerving feeling of being picked apart and analyzed. Still, you hold steady. It’s good practice, you try to tell yourself. One day, you’ll be faced with bloodhounds for journalists and you have to keep it together. Let yourself practice with Robin because if you can pull it off with him, you can do it with anyone.

“The shelters are closed for the night,” he eventually responds. “I will take them somewhere safe, off the streets. Then in the morning, they’ll go there.”

“That’s good. Thanks for doing that. It’s kind of you.”

He pauses, looking back at the dogs, who are rejuvenated by this point, stretching and standing up, tails wagging as they look at you two.

“It’s the right thing to do,” he says at last. “And… thank you, for your help.”

You glance away, picking up the cups. “Sure. No problem.”

A nod and Robin is soon corralling the dogs out of the store, murmuring more gently to them than you would expect, but from this experience, you suspect he has some kind of soft spot for animals. It’s endearing, in a way.

You hope you made a good impression on him, too.

(And if your good impression keeps Batman out a little longer, well, that’s just a lucky coincidence.)

The start of July creeps on you.

There is still achingly little contact between you and Tim. By this point, you haven’t seen him in person for more than a month.

You miss him, in the same way you miss a limb. Scrolling through your social media, whenever you find something funny or that he would like, your knee-jerk reaction is to send it to him. But your conversations on those respective platforms are made up of messages from you and none from him, so you have to stop yourself, because it wouldn’t be worth it. He wouldn’t see it.

Steph tries to preoccupy your time, though her behavior regarding Tim grows increasingly skittish, to the point where you almost think she might know.

She might know that you’re in love with him, him, her ex-boyfriend and first love. The thought brings on the usual amount of soul-crushing guilt and disgust with yourself. How can you do that to her? She’s your best friend. You love her to the ends of the universe and back and… How can you do that to her?

But… something else about it all niggles at you, too. She switches between reassuring you he’ll come around, and dismissing him the other times, saying you ‘don’t need him to have a good time.’ It makes you think they may be having their own issues, too.

The thought is sobering.

You’ve always thought of Steph and Tim as—as insane as it sounds—a pair of bonded kittens. Not exactly getting along all the time but…

You couldn’t separate them. You shouldn’t separate them.

And it feels so wrong for it to be just you two, sometimes. Like you’re missing another piece of the puzzle and it’s noticeable. This empty space between you two that he usually filled. Your group chat, at his insistence, is called the three musketeers. Well, you’re missing your third. Desperately.

“We can rebrand,” Steph says to you one day, the two of you at the mall’s food court. Tim said he was busy. Again.

“No,” you sigh. “That’s not… no. Anyway, Big Belly?”

“I—oh, you have got to be kidding me.” She sounds annoyed, voice sharp.

“What?” you ask, your eyes still on the menu in front of you.

She grabs your arm. “I think we should eat somewhere else.”

You frown at her. “But you said you wanted to get—”

“We can get Big Belly somewhere else. Maybe a little more quiet, you know, it’s kinda crazy in here,” she laughs, though it sounds strained as she tugs you over to the exit.

“Crazy? It’s not that busy—Stephanie!” You yelp as she drags you forward before you can take a look around. “What is going on—”

“It’s just—I think I see Jordanna—”

“Where—”

“Let’s not look! Don’t want her to see you or me, you know how she is, so, let’s get out of here…”

“Well, I—okay—you don’t have to—”

She tugs you all the way through the exit, out into the burning mid-afternoon heat. Humidity swallows you whole, turning your skin tacky, sun bearing down on you full-force. Outside, it smells sharply of gasoline and hot blacktop.

“Honestly, Steph,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t need to drag me out like that.”

She gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I just… didn’t want to deal with Jordanna. She’s been really annoying me recently.”

“Has she?” You can’t imagine why Jordanna would even be talking to her since it’s the summer, but to be fair, there isn’t much Jordanna wouldn’t do in the name of annoying her.

“Yup. Just… acting way out of line. So, let’s go somewhere else.”

“Alright, that’s fine. Let’s get out of the heat before you have to scrape me off the pavement.”

“Food’s on me,” she promises, looping her fingers through the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you gently; too hot to hold hands or twine your arms together like usual.

Though the whole thing bothers you a little bit, you are too used to Steph and Tim’s sometimes strange ways. Leaving abruptly, missing scheduled hangouts, a penchant for tardiness. The occasional bruise or cut that they both wave away. The exhaustion that wears them down sometimes.

It’s odd.

But stranger things happen in Gotham, so, you heed their wishes for that stuff to be ignored.

Just like you let this one go, too.

Really. The things you do for them.

Oddities aside, as Tim remains virtually radio silent, you miss him more. Think about him more.

Dream about him more.

“Steph’s going to be late,” is what Tim says as soon as he steps inside your dorm.

You snort. “Of course she is. You’re both terrible at being punctual.”

“I… am less bad at it than she is.”

“Right,” you say, smirking, pointing to your clock. “You’re only twenty minutes late, compared to what her forty minutes to an hour will be.”

Tim grimaces as he shuffles off his shoes by the door, then steps in further. “She said she was showering.”

“So, we have even more time. That’s fine. I wanted to paint my nails.”

In the bathroom you share with your ‘roommate,’ the shower turns on. It’s really just the bathroom you two share. Your small dorm is entirely private. The perks of being a junior.

You go over to your dresser, where your collection of makeup and nail polish is. Above it, your window looks out to the grassy quad, the sky clear of clouds, unusually blue today without the typical smog; the sun shines in, dust motes dancing in the rays.

Tim comes over, too, but he goes for your phone instead, which is connected to your Bluetooth speaker, music playing lowly; he got that for you this past Christmas.

“Gonna play your old people music?”

“Bruce Springsteen is a treasure to this country and, to quote my dad, one of the few good things to ever come out of the state of New Jersey.”

You laugh. The song changes. The upbeat notes of Hungry Heart start. You’ve heard this one more than a couple times since meeting him. It’s not so bad.

You fiddle with the bottles of nail polishes. Tim sets your phone down and leans over, dropping his chin to your shoulder as he watches you, humming quietly under his breath.

The contact makes your heart skip a beat, tendrils of his cologne wrapping around you, the heat of his body palpable through your thin t-shirt. It’s a contradicting sensation, with the AC working hard to beat the May heat that’s settled in. Maybe too hard, as your fingers are a little bit cold. You warm up quickly with Tim so close to you, your heart thudding in your ears. You desperately hope he can’t feel the heat that expands in your face.

That’s a more recent development. One you hate looking too closely at, for fear of what it means.

(You do know what it means. You’re just still in denial. Because admitting it means you have feelings for your best friend’s ex-boyfriend. For your best friend.)

You keep fiddling, not sure which color to pick. Tim huffs softly, reaching past you, picking out a bottle of wine red nail polish.

“Fine. But you have to help,” you say, taking it from him, then grabbing another bottle for the top coat.

“Don’t I always?”

You just nudge him back, stepping away from the dresser and taking a seat on the floor. The floor is hard, polished concrete; not pleasant to sit on or walk on, so you’ve invested in several cushioned rugs to cover as much as you can.

Tim grabs a Zesti from your mini fridge, then joins you as you set to painting the nails of your left hand. This one is easier since you’re using your dominant hand and you manage to paint your nails without catching any of the skin around them.

The shower in your bathroom hums underneath the sound of the song as you finish your left hand. The first coat, anyway. Tim passes his Zesti to you, wipes a hand on his jeans to get rid of the condensation, then takes the bottle of nail polish.

You sip the soda, extending your right hand to him. He carefully balances the bottle on the rug and sets to painting your nails.

Like with most things he does, Tim dedicates himself to his task wholeheartedly, cornflower blue eyes trained on your hand, tongue poking out in concentration. The sight makes your heart skip a beat. Warmth unspools in your chest like cotton candy.

Sunlight pours in from the window above the dresser, bathing him in warm, golden rays; it makes the shade of his dark hair warmer, the blue of his t-shirt, too, softening the pale of his skin.

“So… how was that date?”

The question jars you. You avert your eyes.

Ah. The date you agreed to go on with a guy in your communications class in an attempt to… you don’t know. Distract yourself from Tim? Try to find someone else to latch onto? All… not so great reasons, you know, but needs must.

Not like it worked out, anyway…

“Terrible.”

He stiffens, pausing in his work to look at you, eyes narrowing, and you send him a small smile, privately pleased—though you shouldn’t be—at seeing him get all protective. You can take care of yourself and he knows that, too, but… one can appreciate having a cute guy be like that for you. Within reason, anyway.

“He didn’t do anything, Timmy, relax. He was just… well, seemed nice initially. But when we got to the restaurant, he was horrible to the waitress. I already wasn’t feeling it, but after that, no way. So.”

He glances away, thumb rubbing idly at the back of your hand from where he cradles it in his. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t a good idea.”

“To go with him or—” he clears his throat, turning back to his work “—dating in general?”

“I don’t know. He just wasn’t what I was looking for.”

“What are you looking for?”

You, you want to say, but don’t.

Frightening to realize, really, that the answer to that question is immediate, as sure as the day.

It’s Tim.

Always Tim.

But you’ve never felt this way for someone. This strongly, like you want so much, you could never be satisfied.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, watching the brush of the handle glide over your nail in easy, practiced sweeps. “Does anyone?”

“I guess not,” he concedes softly. “But still. I hope you can find it.”

The song changes. Something calmer, with the strum of the guitar. Familiar croons of I'm On Fire.

I have found it, you want to say. It’s you. It’s this. Right here, right now.

But just because you found it doesn’t mean it’s yours.

“Do you?” you find yourself asking because apparently you’re feeling extra masochistic today. “Know what you’re looking for, I mean.”

Steph sometimes teases him. Tries to point out nice boys and girls he might like. You used to play along. You don’t so much these days.

He would always wave it off, anyway. Just shake his head and change the subject. He has dated before. Obviously. Someone as gorgeous as him… all of Gotham wants a piece of him. You do, too. Well. You want all of him. Which is another thing you are just now realizing. But anyway, since you’ve known him, he hasn’t dated anyone. He used to date a boy—Bernard? Steph said he was a character—from one of his old high schools but that didn’t work out. And now he still has the occasional date, but it never pans out. He says they just aren’t compatible.

Makes you curious.

You’d never match up to it, you know, but you want to know, anyway.

Tim looks up, his eyes slowly scanning your face. This close, with the sunlight, you can see the shadows his lashes cast on his cheeks, the flecks of silver in his eyes, like mercury, the odd scars, too, that he excuses behind clumsiness as a child. Everything inside you squeezes.

“I guess you can say that,” he eventually says, voice soft.

The words hurt, but distantly, like it’s all far away from you. You’re too caught up here, now, close enough to smell his cologne.

Tension thickens the air between you. It’s unfamiliar, unknown, but not unwelcome with how your stomach swoops like you missed a step, heart pounding in your ears.

Tim looks… contemplative. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the movement of him biting his lip, teeth sinking into plush pink, and the urge to soothe away the indents with your own lips is fearsome, monumental, like a hurricane.

His fingers tighten on your hand. You want to get swept away in this moment, no matter the consequences. It’s a dangerous kind of feeling you aren’t used to.

But the shower abruptly shuts off in the bathroom, plunging the room back into silence with the strum of the guitar and the croon of the song as it ends. The moment is broken.

Tim clears his throat and returns to his work.

Neither of you say anything.

Too much for you to want.

Too much you cannot have.

Too complicated.

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strangersmunsons · 7 months

Text

the rocky horror eddie show

you help Eddie get ready for a special night.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, established relationship, midnight movies, flirty talk, you put makeup on Eddie and he loves every second of it. Reader is wearing makeup/costume like Magenta in the film, but otherwise there's no description of appearance, and no use of Y/N. Warnings: brief dry-humping & finger-sucking, but no actual smut (sorry!) Word Count: ~1.8k we're going to completely ignore the fact that there is an actual character named Eddie in RHPS, mostly because I'm too busy thinking about our Eddie wearing Tim Curry’s lingerie. anyway -- it's almost October, so happy spooky season babes! this is short & mostly unedited, but I hope you enjoy!

“Ed, hold still.”

“Sorry.”

The position you and Eddie are in is both familiar and unfamiliar.

He’s sitting in your vanity chair while you straddle his lap. Your legs are slotted neatly around his hips, the soft middle between your legs pressed against the – well, not quite so soft middle between his legs. He encircles you in his arms, his hands lacing together at the small of your back, to help keep you upright and close.

It’s a lovely, fleshy entwinement that Eddie’s come to know very well. It’s the sort of affection his mind will wander to often when he starts missing you, which is anytime you’re not right next to him.

He just likes to be close to you.

But what’s unusual about this occasion is the sensation of a soft makeup sponge, pinched between your thumb and index finger, dabbing gently at his face. Your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth in concentration as you press the foundation into his skin.

“Look up for me.”

Eddie lets his head fall back so all you can see is his throat.

“No, I mean with your eyes.”

“Oh.”

He faces you again and grins at your amused expression. You notch a finger under his chin and tilt his head up ever so slightly, while he gazes towards the ceiling. The sponge taps makeup lightly over the thin skin beneath his eyes.

“That feels so weird.”

“This foundation’s a little oily, I know,” you tell him apologetically. “The brand I usually use didn’t have a color that I thought looked right for this.”

“I feel like I’m wearing a mask,” he says gleefully. “Lemme see.”

You release him and put the sponge down, so he can get a good look at his reflection in the vanity mirror.

“Wow,” he says. “I’m glowing.”

You laugh. “You are radiant, my love.” In truth, the makeup is just very white, even for Eddie’s pale skin. That’s what you intended, but it is a bit garish with no other products applied.

Eddie doesn’t notice, or if he does, he doesn’t care. “I look so smooth!”

“Here, let me set it so it doesn’t smear.”

Eddie’s both fascinated and bewildered by the mess of cosmetics on your vanity. There are little pots of all shapes and sizes filled with powders and creams, in every color he can think of. Some of them glitter and shimmer in the light, and there are stubby pencils for lips and eyes and who knows what else, and brushes. Big and small and puffy and tapered, many already dusted with mysterious pigments. And he can’t help but keep glancing over at the half-opened zipper pouch that’s overflowing with lipsticks.

He’s elated when you pick up the fluffiest brush you own, and use it to pick up a translucent powder. You begin swiping it methodically over his face in sections. He hums in contentment.

“Good?” you ask, sensing his enjoyment.

“Mm-hmm. I like that.” His eyes are closed, a serene smile on his lips.

You prolong the process for him, adding more feather light touches to his cheeks and nose, even though they don’t need them.

After an extra minute of pampering, you set the brush down. “I think…” You squint and pout your lips, leaning your face close to his own, debating your next course of action. “I wanna push that in with a powder puff. Just so it really sticks.”

“Whatever you say, boss. You’re the professional.”

Eddie lets you play makeup artist, and enjoys every bizarre second of it. He likes the way your hands flutter about, and the soft instruments caressing his skin; the tender stroke of your fingers smudging and smoothing in the products; the way you turn him this way and that way, always gentle, never harsh. He finds himself in a trancelike state, perfectly happy to let you carry out your ministrations without protest.

“Okay,” you mumble to yourself. “We’re looking good so far, I think.”

Eddie’s now sporting a smooth white face, and deep contour beneath his cheekbones, which subtly blends into the warm blush you’ve put on him. The base looks quite nice, if you do say so yourself. The black eyeshadow is packed on all the way up to his brows, but it’s still slightly patchy.

You frown and pick up the brush again, going back in to add more.

“This is really smart, baby, with the paper.”

Eddie’s doing his part by holding a thin sheet of tissue beneath his eye to catch the fallout. The last thing you want is for the sooty powder to get everywhere and ruin your hard work.

“I’ve got lots of tricks up my sleeve, Munson. Tricks you wouldn’t even believe.”

“Is that so?” he says salaciously, the look in his eye wicked. He moves one hand to your back again, this time sneaking under your dress to rub small circles into the naked skin. You shiver at his touch.

“Yes. And if you be a good boy and let me finish, maybe I’ll show you one tonight.”

It’s his turn to tremble. “I feel like you already have, with that outfit.”

You smile coyly at him, but secretly you’re relieved. You had felt a little silly when you bought the maid outfit, but as soon as you modeled it for him, your insecurity vanished – he nearly pounced on you right then and there. Now, between the costume and the paint job you’ve done on your own face, he’s basically mush.

Your makeup is a softer reflection of Eddie’s, dark and feminine and a tad ghoulish. Falsies and loads of mascara clump your spidery lashes together, and your mouth is slick with layers upon layers of crimson lacquer. You love it and so does he.

He shifts you closer, so your core is pressed right over the bulge in his black satin panties. His lips ghost over yours. “My pretty baby,” he says, breath dancing over the sticky gloss.

You swallow thickly. “We’ll be late. Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you whisper back, although your heart screams for him to do just that.

He presses a sloppy wet kiss to your chin, but relents, settling back in the chair again.

It’s going to take a tremendous effort to stay focused on the task at hand. But you try to finish applying Eddie’s eye makeup anyway.

Giving up on the brush, you end up sticking your whole finger in the pot of black eyeshadow. “Close your eyes again, please.”

You darken the shadow with the pad of your finger, and the natural oils of your skin allow more pigment to stick to his lids. “There we go…”

A bit more color, and a little more blending, you think the eyeshadow is up to snuff. You pick up a black liner and wiggle it before him.

“Well, this next part should be easy for you!” Eddie’s rocked smudgy eyeliner for more than one Corroded Coffin show, and he nods in confirmation.

“Bring it.”

You do, and he handles it like a pro – no twitching or watery eyes for Eddie.

He is a little bit shocked when you drag the same liner over the tops of his eyebrows, though. And then even more so when you trace it lightly around the edges of his already-full lips.

“It’ll blend with the lipstick,” you answer in response to his questioning look.

You apply a coat of mascara to his lashes, internally noting with a tinge of envy that he doesn’t even really need it.

“Almost done!” you huff with excitement, extremely pleased with the work you’ve accomplished. “This is the best part.” You uncap a tube of lipstick, revealing a shiny bullet of red cream, in a shade even deeper and darker than the one you’re wearing. “Ready?”

He nods giddily.

You pucker your lips at him, and he mimics the action. You can’t resist the opportunity to reach out and give him a sweet little peck.

Then, with careful precision, you color in Eddie’s lips. You open your mouth in a wide “O,” nudging him to do the same. He follows your instructions obediently, silently copying each face you make while you apply the lipstick.

“Okay, now go like this.” You smush your lips closed and rub them together. Eddie giggles and does the same. His face splits into a wide smile when he’s done, revealing a red smear on his front teeth.

You stick your pointer finger out for him. “Now you blot.”

His brow wrinkles in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Like this.” You demonstrate for him, popping a finger in your mouth. You keep your lips closed around it while you pull it back out, and show him your finger so he can examine the excess lipstick you’ve removed. “See?”

Understanding now, and sporting a devilish grin, he takes your hand in his, and guides the same finger towards his mouth. He sucks hard on the digit for a moment, swirling his tongue around it, big doe eyes locked onto yours. Then he slowly, slowly slides your finger out of his mouth, and releases it with a wet squelch, giving it an almost-kiss upon its exit. When he’s finally finished, a string of saliva connects the tip of your finger and his lips.

Your hips rock involuntarily, and the scratch of his fishnet-clad thighs against yours makes you moan. You both clutch at each other, and the room feels much warmer than it did a minute ago.

“You sure you don’t want me to start somethin’?” he asks smugly, all too pleased with the dizzy look on your face.

You almost cave.

“Eddie, we’re driving all the way to Indianapolis. We don’t have time.”

He pouts.

You pat his cheek in reassurance. “I’ll make it up to you later tonight, I promise.” You’re almost as disappointed as he is. You use your thumb to wipe the lipstick still smeared on his teeth.

With a sigh, you lean back from your seat on his lap in appraisal – an artist assessing their masterpiece.

“So? How do I look?”

“I think you look gorgeous.”

Close to midnight, when you the two of you arrive at the shabby movie theater on the outskirts of the city, beneath the lights of the marquee, Eddie causes quite a stir.

The black lingerie is striking against his pale skin, and the immodest corset puts all his tattoos out on display. The fishnet stockings are held up by a garter belt, and they wrap fetchingly around his strong, otherwise-bare legs. The makeup, thanks to your careful hand, is immaculate. He’s the stuff dreams are made of.

For you, the cherry on top is Eddie’s own natural dark curls, which complete the look, and make him a near-spitting image of Dr. Frank–N–Furter.

Watching him as he smokes a quick cigarette before heading inside, you think that it’s almost unfair, really, how beautiful he is.

Even if he is teetering away on those platform heels.

thank you for reading! 💕

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

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moonlit-imagines · 4 months

Text

Rekindled

Dick Grayson x Kyle!reader

warnings: guns/violence, death, brutality. like, the typical arkham game themes. not graphic, tho!! mostly mentions

a/n: this sorta takes place in the arkham knight storyline but you really dont have to know anything about that game to read this, i wanted to give enough detail bc i liked this idea and the arkham game fandom is under appreciated. also lowkey y/n is based on an oc but almost all my y/n’s are <3

prompt:

Gotham was on fire. You were dumb enough to stay behind. Selina had been MIA for longer than you were used to, and every effort of contact was futile. Last time this happened, she had been arrested and thrown into Arkham City, so it was needless to say that you were a bit worried.

Last thing she told you was that a “pretty worthless supervillain” needed her help with something, but she left it at that. Yeah, she had a habit of making herself scarce, but she was your only family and you two always kept in touch. And now that the evacuation was in effect, you felt even more uneasy.

You pulled on your suit, black leather and spandex hugging your body tighter as you zipped up. Pulled your gloves on, claws and all. Clicked the belt around your waist, equipping your small set of weapons and utilities. The headpiece was pretty simple, just some silly cat ears to match your aunt’s, along with the goggles for good measure.

Gotham was more dangerous than you’d ever seen, only delinquents like yourself roamed the streets. Except, they didn’t carry a code like you. Scarecrow caused a panic, this “Arkham Knight” had a personal vendetta to fill, the city was on its knees. Tanks were starting to load onto the islands, troops taking over buildings, and riots overwhelmed what little protection was left here. You knew a few places to go, but your best bet was the movie studios.

Panessa, Batman’s secret base with the Wayne name slapped right on the outside, it always made you smile when you saw it. You were hoping to find an ally inside, maybe someone who could help you find Aunt Selina.

And you may be thinking you’d just sneak inside like a lovely little cat burglar would, but why not try the front door. “Stray.” You spoke into the voice box and chuckled as the doors opened for you. “It’s like they were waiting for me to crawl on back.” You stepped inside and into the elevator and poked the down button, trusting the rickety old elevator to deliver you safely to the lower level.

When you stepped out, there was only one familiar face that wasn’t behind a pane of glass. Didn’t know Batman kept prisoners. “Y/N?” Robin asked from across the room, setting down his tablet to meet you halfway. “What the hell are you still doing in Gotham?”

“Selina’s missing and I didn’t want to leave without her. What’s…all this?” You motioned at the containment cells, starting to understand why there were prisoners when you noticed their Joker-esque features. The lot began to make trouble, beginning to harass and poke fun the same way that clown would.

“Ignore them. I’ll call Batman.” Tim told you. “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. You already broke in.”

“Broke in?” You scoffed. “I used the door, actually. Still have my little voice thing activated. I just had to say my name and I walked in. Kind of rude to assume I just break in just because I happen to be a burglar from time to time.” You ranted and heard a chuckle from Robin just before Batman answered his call.

“He wants to talk to you.” Tim called you over, holding out his arm in an awkward way to you could talk to Bruce.

“Tell me everything, y/n.” Batman instructed.

“Hey, good to see you, too. Uhh, yeah, so Lina said she was hired by some loser supervillain to steal something they needed. That was basically all she told me before she left, been a few days. Can’t get ahold of her.” You explained, looking over at Tim and shrugging. “She considers most of the so-called ‘supervillains’ of Gotham ‘losers,’ though, so it doesn’t really narrow it down.”

“Okay. Stay at the movie studios. I’ll look into it.” Batman hung up just like that and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not allowed to leave either. This…” Robin motioned to the Joker lookalikes, “is what Joker left behind in his death. All that infected blood from Arkham City, it wasn’t all caught, and I have to find a cure.” Robin went back to his tablet and you sat on a nearby chair. “Catwoman tell you much about the City?”

“Only that it was a shithole and Two-Face is a loser.” You started scrolling through the computer before you, reading little lab notes here and there. “How’s Oracle?”

“She’s in the city, of course. Refused to evac, wanted to help, but no one expected anything less.” Robin noticed you snooping, but let you continue. “Nightwing’s okay, too.” Your eyes peeked to the side and your brows raised. “Well, not really. Ego’s bruised since Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy kicked his ass the other night.” You laughed out loud, quite amused by the news.

“Good, he probably needed it.” You leaned back in the chair. “You know, I could probably help out there.”

“I already tried, Batman said to stay here.” Tim sighed.

“I don’t work for Batman. Maybe I wanna go kick some ass and try to find my aunt.” You explained, only half-jokingly. If was only seconds after that projections of the Riddler showed up all over Gotham. “Oh, brother. Not this guy.” You groaned, watching Nygma go on about his plan until Catwoman appeared on screen, causing you to bolt up and out of your chair. You would have run for it now if not for his explicitly telling you to stay away.

“Oh, and Stray, dear? Keep away, please. This is for Batman and Batman only, and if you get too close I might just…oh, well, you know.” Riddler chuckled at the insinuation that he’d detonate the bomb around Selina’s neck. Robin looked to you, noticing you were completely flush as you watched the broadcast.

“Y/N, he’s won’t let Nygma do anything to her. Try to stay calm.” Tim tried to snap you out of it, which only caused you to transition from fear to rage, jumping up from the chair and pacing around to keep from hitting him.

“Just…shut up, T—Robin. Shut up.” Your claws were drawn and you were steadying your breathing before things got ugly for everyone. More taunts were thrown at you from the Joker-infected and you needed to get the hell out of here, so you headed for the elevator.

“Wait, hey! Y/N, you can’t go out there, it’s not safe.” Robin jogged up beside you, but you ignored him. “You can’t save her right now, Riddler is obsessed with besting Batman. You can’t interfere or it’s over.” You stepped into the elevator and just as you were about to press the button, “Dick is in the city.” You paused.

“Why do I care?” You rolled your eyes and watched Robin pull a wrist communicator from his belt.

“You care.” He handed you the comm. “You can call any of us with that. We have our locations on, too. Keep in touch.”

“Where is he?” You sheepishly asked, looking down at your boots. You knew Tim had a stupid, told-you-so smirk on his face.

“Near the docks, he’s working on something. He’ll probably need your help.” Your eyes sort of lit up when you heard that, but you quickly took yourself back to reality knowing Tim was just trying to make sure you weren’t alone out there. For Dick’s sake.

You were still considered apart pf the family, even if Selina and Bruce weren’t a thing at the moment and you and Dick had gone your separate ways. You still caught yourself thinking about Dick Grayson often, wondering what could have been, what you would have done differently, why you guys even chose to leave. Sometimes it made sense, sometimes you struggled not to pick up the phone.

But now you stood on the rooftop of Panessa Studios, looking out to a city in ruins. A city in need of saving. As much as you respected Bruce, there’s no way you believed he could do this all alone. And if he was going to save your aunt, maybe you should lend a helping hand in the meantime. You fiddled with the device on your wrist, trying to get the hang of the new model communicator until you found Nightwing’s contact programmed in. Clicking the button made your stomach drop, you froze up as the line rang.

This comm was given to you, but wasn’t updated in the system as yours, so Nightwing answered the message from Batcom #1 and was shocked to see your beautiful face waiting for his answer. “Y/N! Are you…are you still in Gotham?” Dick’s calling of your name was embarrassingly high-pitched, but he recovered it upon his question. “Please tell me you’re not here.”

“Dick, I’m wearing cat ears and my aunt is being held hostage at the moment, of course I’m here.” You sarcastically answered, just like he remembered. “Tim gave me this thing, said I could go help out if I wanted. Just have to stay away from Riddler stuff for the night.” You explained, showing the Panessa Studios sign in the background.

“Yeah?” You could see Dick’s smile, like he and Tim knew exactly how to plan and you just wouldn’t figure it out. But despite this cold, brutal night, you felt all warm and fuzzy inside when that smirk grew on his face, you knew he was happy to have this opportunity. “I kind of need a partner for what I’ve got going on, Penguin’s doing something shady down by the docks. Wanna join me?”

“I could get behind that.” He sensed a bit of flirtation in your voice. “Meet you there?”

“I’m already here, why don’t I meet you in the middle? It’s really bad out here…” Dick rubbed the back of his neck nervously, thinking he’d come on too strong.

“You’re worried about me?” You chuckled and he told himself his suspicions were true. “How sweet.” You began walking to the edge of the roof, beginning to plot your path to avoid any psychopaths that may try to murder or kidnap you. “It’s not that far, I’ll be fine.” You hung up on him and he took a deep breath. Seeing his ex, probably his first love, after a long, long hiatus, it probably freaked him out more that Gotham’s takeover right now.

You barely felt the nerves he did, you knew you had a certain power over him. Not that you’d like to use it, not like you used to. Getting away with petty little crimes with your charm until you finally gave him a chance, let him show you the other side of things. Betraying that trust would put you down the wrong path once again.

Dick waited patiently for you, staring at the rooftops you may travel across to try and spot you, completing ignoring the smoke and flames from below. Running into trouble up there wouldn’t be much of a problem, everyone was busy robbing stores and shooting each other on the ground. You’d heard about some freaky bodies strung up on rooftops, some more Riddler shenanigans hidden around the place. Honestly, it didn’t surprise you much. This was Gotham City, where anything could happen.

Soon you found yourself just a few more steps from your past. You and Nightwing, both masked, stood across from each other with only a gap between buildings between you. With a graceful leap, you swung above the road and landed right beside the vigilante, who was a bit too stunned to speak, but he was the famed Dick Grayson…he doesn’t stay quiet for long. “Nice landing.” His smooth voice made you smirk involuntarily.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” You rolled your whip up and clipped it back to your belt.

“Eh, you did…but I’m willing to forgive and forget.” He quipped in his nonchalant tone, same boy you’ve always known. “Bat bossing you around?”

“Yeah, he wanted me to stay at that run-down movie studio. I really wasn’t about it.” You sighed, looking down at the arms deal below. “But I guess you know the feeling a lot better than me. I never really listened to the guy, you know?”

“Oh, I know.” Nightwing chuckled, kneeling down by the ledge. “You’re my inspiration for breaking away. Always giving Bruce shit, not taking him seriously. He hated it.”

“Hated me?” You asked him, wide-eyed.

“Actually, I think it was the reason he liked you so much back then. Usually people see him as like, an authority figure.” Nightwing explained, still observing the Penguin goons below. “And the people who didn’t listen were usually still a little afraid of him. But you were just that ‘kid’ who never quite listened and didn’t quite care.” You chuckled at some old memories that came back to you with his words. Memories of awkward patrols and first encounters with Batman and the first Robin. You and him were so young back then. So young and so hopeless.

“So you’re saying he approved of me?” You teased with a taunting smirk and poked Nightwing in the arm, causing him to scoff and roll his eyes. “Oh, yeah, the big bad Batman approved of the poor little street cat.”

“Well, as close to approval as possible. He is still a hardass.” Nightwing realized in that moment how easy it was to fall into your old ways. No awkwardness, just two people who have a bond you can’t break with time. “So, uh, these guys down here.”

“Righttt, the Penguin guys. North Refrigeration, huh? Man, you’d think Oz wouldn’t be so predictable.” You remarked as a car sped past you on the street behind, shooting an automatic rifle into the sky, but you paid little mind to it. “Remember the Iceberg Lounge? He must really like the cold.”

“He’s definitely got a gimmick.”

“Don’t we all?” You pointed to the cat ears on your headpiece and you both burst into quiet chuckles. “Are we gonna go down there or what, Dickie?” Your nickname for him made his heart flutter.

“Bruce wanted me to wait, he’s got a plan.” Nightwing sighed. “I’m only listening now because of how insane it is tonight, but I wish he’d let us handle it ourselves. He needs a break.”

“I think we all do.” You crossed your legs on the concrete rooftop and wrapped your arms around them, looking past the illegal activities below and over at the city skyline across the water. “If we all make it out of here alive, I think it’s time I leave Gotham.” You stared in silence for a few moments, pretending not to realize Dick staring at your profile. “Wanna do my thing and not listen to Bruce?” You snapped out of it and raised your eyebrows in a playful way. “You can’t say no, it’s not in my nature to listen to big strong men.”

“You wanna go bother these guys down here? They’re just doing their jobs.” He joked, getting up to play your game.

“Oh, well that’s too bad.” You shrugged, nearing the edge of the roof. “Maybe I just wanna say ‘hi.’”

“Oh, well if that’s all you wanna do.” Nightwing stood beside you and you both took a quick leap from the building to the ground, startling the group of thugs and interrupting their very important work.

“Shit! Catwoman?” One of the thugs asked before getting punched in the gut by yourself.

“Hah, he deserved that! Rest of us know who you are, Ronnie’s just a dumbass.” Another thug assured you before Nightwing shocked him with an escrima stick. You both took turns knocking around these cronies until all of them were laid out across the ground, only ones left were hiding inside of the van beside you.

“That was fun.” Nightwing nudged you with his elbow as you walked side by side to the back of this van. “We’ll have to do that again sometime.”

“How about when we find their hideout?” You suggested, knocking on the van doors. They flung open and were shocked to see two vigilantes waiting for them, then desperately drove off just as you’d planned. Nightwing grabbed you by the waist, pulled you close, and used his grapple gun to bring you both back the the rooftops so you could easily follow the van without being spotted. It was a bit off-guard, being pulled in like that, but you didn’t mind at all.

After some time and a bit of flirty remarks here and there, you both made it to the Penguin’s hideout. “You sure you’re in? There’s a lot of people in there, we can still wait for Bruce.”

“Come on, Dickie. It’s nothing we haven’t done before.” You tilted your head to have him come along with you and led him to an unconventional entrance. “It’s gonna be tons of fun, you’ll see.” You opened the rooftop vent and slid down first, crawling beneath the floor and estimating how many men you’d be going up against with your infrared goggles. Probably twenty or so, but you and Dick had trained together for a long time, it would all come back to you in an instant—you hoped.

The both of you popped out from the shadows and immediately started beating on these criminals, watching them all scramble to figure out how to react. “Told you, fun!” You called out to Dick, tossing a pair of bolas at a goon’s legs causing him to trip right into Nightwing’s roundhouse.

“Never doubted you for a moment!” Nightwing answered, pushing another thug your way so you could catch his arm with your whip, pulling his fist into his face. “Ouch! Why’d you do that, man?” Nightwing punched your victim once again. “Starting to think you like getting hurt.” The two of you continued throwing punches in sunch a calculated, synchronized way, catching a few as well. Once a thug managed to land a punch to your face, Nightwing was right to the rescue. “You okay?”

“Never better, baby.” You held your cheek and he worried you’d got a concussion for a moment before realizing you called everyone “baby.” Dazed, he also caught a punch to the back, knocking the final thug down with only his elbow. “That was it? That wasn’t even a challenge, that was a warm-up.” You told Dick, who was still kind of staring at you. “Hey, I told you I’m fine, don’t worry.” You smiled.

“It’s not that.” Dick chuckled. “It’s just, I’m thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What’d I say?” You kicked a guy’s arm away from your foot, wondering what Dick meant.

“About leaving Gotham…I’ve got an extra room at my place.” Dick shamelessly offered, but you could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“An extra room? Did you move apartments?” You raised a brow and saw his cheeks turn red under his mask.

“Uh, well…no.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his gloved hand. “I have extra room in my bed, though…if you’re down.” You stared at him, shocked and expressionless. Not many people could do that to you. “I don’t want to put you on the spot, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t expect anything out of you, but y/n, I want you in my life again.”

“…What?” You quietly answered him, still dumbfounded by the sudden proposal. You absolutely loved seeing him tonight, and you loved fighting beside him, and you loved him. It was like everything was coming back together.

“I left Gotham, I left everything behind. I left you behind. And I know that was both of our decisions, but if you’d just leave Gotham with me tonight, after all of this is over, I’d like to start over with you however you’d like.” Dick and you stood below these dim string lights in this criminal base surrounded by beaten foes, piles of money, and loads of firearms. A hell of a place for a romantic speech like this. “I just realized how much I was missing without you. And all the dangers of tonight, and you and I getting stuck here. I don’t want to be apart again, y/n.” He confessed to you.

You both quietly stood there a moment, not knowing what to do. You were still sweating from the fighting that had concluded a few minutes ago. Still breathing heavy with a fast heartbeat, but now for a new reason.

You said it yourself, you wanted to leave. Tonight solidified that decision. And Selina would understand. You were a Stray, you went where it was good for you, and maybe Blüdhaven would be good for you. It wasn’t on fire nearly as much, didn’t have as many supervillains, wouldn’t give you a target on your back.

And it had him.

And he was offering you everything.

And without another thought, you took a few paces forward into his arms and pulled his face in for a deep kiss, hands carefully cupping his cheeks as not to scratch them. Dick was surprised at first, but couldn’t resist what he’d been wanting since he left for Blüdhaven. He wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly kissed you back, the passion was still there. Both of you felt it.

You pulled away slightly and gazed into his eyes, both smiling stupidly from the kiss. “Does this mean you’ll come with me? Please say it does.”

“Yeah, Dickie, I’ll come with.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 //

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #batman arkham games #batman arkham knight #batman arkham knight imagine #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine

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daddyy333 · 1 year

Text

Sensitive | Lo’ak x fem!omaticaya!reader

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 2.9k

warnings: readers very insecure and shy, reader was technically bullied as a kid, ?

summary: Y/n was always told she was overdramatic and sensitive growing up, so she kept quiet and didn’t tell anyone when something bothered her. Now, watching her mate potentially fall in love with another woman, she’s too worried about overreacting and refuses to say anything until eventually she can’t handle it anymore.

anything in bold like this in the middle of a sentence means it’s either Na’vi or meant to be in Na’vi but I don’t trust the translation websites so I just use the few words I know and make do with it💀

“It’s just a joke”

“You’re too sensitive”

“It doesn’t even matter”

“Why do you care so much?”

“You’re overreacting”

Your whole life, you’ve always been sensitive. It wasn’t hard to bring you down or upset you. You were always overthinking every little thing, analyzing every word a person said and the way they said it. You wished you were different, every single day you tried to stop caring so much but you couldn’t help it.

By the time you turned 18, you were quieter than a mouse. You only talked around your few friends, and even then you didn’t say too much in fear of seeming too sensitive. When something bothered you, you just stayed quiet and kept it to yourself.

Lo’ak thought you were just shy. You were really quiet all the time, but he was so attracted to you; he just had to get to know you. You really loved Lo’ak, more than anything on Pandora. He was so nice to you, and you trusted him and opened up to him a little, and he still accepted you fully.

You didn’t tell him everything though, you didn’t want to ruin something so good. You’d be heartbroken if Lo’ak left you so you made sure you were careful with what you said and how you reacted.

You mated before Eywa and it was a beautiful experience. You both took your time learning each other's bodies and making each other feel good. You were close to opening up all the way after that night, but you were still worried he wouldn’t accept you and all your flaws.

2 years later, you had to leave the forest and it terrfied you. You couldn’t help it then, you burst into tears and cried through it all. The forest was your home. This was where you felt safest. This was where you fell in love, where you were meant to be.

Lo’ak seemed to understand your worries though, and you were thankful. He held you as you cried, wiping your tears and helping you say goodbye to everyone. He felt bad when he could see tears flowing down your face as you rode your ikrans out of the forest.

You made it the Metkayina’s territory and naturally they got defensive and began to try and intimidate you, and the worst part was that it worked. Lo’ak could feel you shaking and he felt bad, wrapping his tail around your thigh and trying to comfort you as best he could.

You noticed Lo’ak look over at a young woman, but he quickly returned his attention to Olo’eyktan and Tsahík again. You looked over at her, ears turned down as you realized how much prettier she was than you.

You tried to ignore it, but when she was one of the Na’vi meant to tutor you guys, it made it hard to forget about it. You were worried Lo’ak would fall for her instead. She was very very pretty, and her voice was smooth and melodic, with the most gorgeous eyes ever too.

Lo’ak was attached to you at the hip the first few weeks. It helped reassure you that he was yours, always. He would always have an around wrapped around you or his fingers intertwined with yours, or at the very least have his tail caressing your back or wrapped around your leg or arms.

But he slowly started getting closer to Tsireya. He’d go sit next to her during lessons and you always sat next to him so you’d follow, and over time you could see the two of them giggling together whenever you took breaks, and she was so touchy in ways she wasn’t with everyone else. At least that’s how it seemed.

You were honestly a little heartbroken, you really hoped he wasn’t like that. You don’t know what you’d do if he asked for a second wife. It’d kill you. The worst part, she’s been trying to be friends with you.

You don’t want to be mean, so you indulge in whatever it is she wants. You’re actually quite close, you tell her lots of things and she actually helps you learn the way of the Metkayina quite a lot. It seems like she tries to talk about Lo’ak a lot, which sucks because it only convinces you more and more that they’re going to get involved any day now.

Lo’ak seems a little distant as time goes on. He’s not making love to you a lot, leaving you lying awake in the late hours of the night trying to ignore your arousal, even with your mate right next to you. He only really makes love to you when your in heat or when he is in rut, but it’s always rough and not as sweet because it’s the only way to relieve the pain.

He also sits with Tsireya a lot at dinner. Or he’ll tell her to come sit with you guys. You come close to snapping and telling him just how much it’s bothering you countless times but you don’t want to risk being seen as dramatic.

You find out you’re pregnant and initially you were overjoyed, excited to become a mother and forever grateful to Eywa for this gift. But then your heart sinks. How would Lo’ak react? You were worried about everything now. Would he still love you after all the changes your body was about to go through? Would he be even more distant?

When you told him he nearly screamed, picking you up and jumping around out of pure excitement. He threw you over his shoulder, making you scream as he ran out to the main gathering place for the clan and said “I’m going to be a father!”

The surrounding people laughed and congratulated you guys, and when his family came out, he ran to them and said “you’re going to be grandparents!” And instantly had Neytiri sobbing. He finally put you down and you groaned, nauseous from all the movement.

You were less worried realizing how excited he was, and it seemed like things got better after that. He was always taking you on dates, rubbing your bump and talking to the baby constantly, helping you through your morning sickness when he could, and he was always hunting and bringing you your favorite foods to keep you strong and healthy.

You concluded that maybe he was a bit distant the last few months, but you’d be okay now that you were about to become parents and he was so present now. Obviously he still spent time with Tsireya, which you didn’t mind, but every now and then you had your doubts.

He took you on a date night, preparing a sweet dish for you since all you wanted to eat were sweet things and took you swimming with Payakan, telling him how the baby was kicking now and showing off your bump. You rolled your eyes playfully at Lo’ak, he was convinced that your bump got bigger every single day.

Payakan let you guys rest on his back and watch the stars until you got tired and fell asleep cuddled in Lo’ak’s arms. He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He fell asleep not that long after, keeping his hand on your bump to hopefully soothe your very active baby and keep it from kicking you all night.

When he woke up, you were still sleeping peacefully, being spooned by him as you mumbled softly in your sleep. He smiled to himself, kissing your head and caressing your bump. He felt the little one move slightly and he couldn’t help it as he blushed a little.

He spent a few minutes with you before he got up and had payakan bring you closer to the island and told him to wake up at sunrise if he wasn’t already there. He got to the island and prepared all his things to hunt for your favorite things right now and spent about 2 hours hunting.

He came back with tons of food, enough to last you a few days and immediately woke up Tsireya to help him cook it the way you liked. He wanted to celebrate today, as it was your 3 year anniversary and you were already halfway through your pregnancy. He was so excited, he almost wanted to leave Tsireya to finish cooking so he could go spend time with you.

You woke up to Payakan moving wildly and you quickly walked over to where he could see you to calm him down. The sun was halfway up, and you realized Lo’ak wasn’t with you anymore. You frowned slightly and noticed Payakan bringing you close to the island so you assumed Lo’ak was already there.

You greeted Jake and Neytiri as you happened to walk past them on the way to your marui pod and of course had to let Tuk talk to the baby for a few minutes and let them feel the little one kick. Tuk was so so so excited for the baby to come, she was asking almost every day if the baby would be here soon.

You eventually continued your journey to your home and when you got closer you heard some laughter and giggling. You recognized Lo’aks laugh but there was someone else’s. You listened for a few more seconds and realized it was Tsireya.

Every insecurity came flooding back and tears filled your eyes. Was this his plan the whole time? To have you sleeping quite literally across the ocean so he could spend time with her in your home.

You opened the flap and she was next to him, holding his hands trying to show him how to grind up these herbs properly. You scoffed and said “Lo’ak…” He immediately looked up and his eyes widened.

He smiled and said “hi, baby! How are you feeling?” “W-Why is she here?” You asked quietly, tears in your eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows and said “she’s just helping me make you breakfast. I’m making all your favorites today, and she’s a better cook than I am so I needed her to help me”

You bit your lip and shook your head, you didn’t buy it. No way she was just here to cook and that was it. You turned around and left, going to the spot you and Lo’ak always go to to spend time together alone and uninterrupted.

Tsireya looked up and said “is everything okay?” “I- I-I don’t know. Do you think I should follow her?” He asked and Tsireya thought for a moment, nodding. He quickly thanked her and went out looking for you.

It took him a while to figure out where you’d gone, but once he did he was running as fast as he could. He got to your secret spot and found you crying, leaning against the rock you two always sat by.

“Baby…y/n, hey hey what’s wrong?” He said and you sniffled. You wiped your tears quickly and said “nothing. I’m fine, I’m just overreacting, it's nothing” “no, no honey. Hey, look at me. Talk to me,” he said and you looked up at him, eyes wet and nose tinted pink from crying.

“I just…y-you’ve gotten really close to Tsireya lately and I…I’m worried that- t- t-that uhm…” you said and stopped yourself shaking your head. He sighed and said “you’re worried I’m unfaithful?” You let out a small sob and said “I-it’s not that I don’t trust you- I-I just I can’t help it sometimes. I know it’s stupid! Just go away”

“Why do you think I’m cheating?” He asked, wiping your tears. You let out a shaky breath and said “well y-…you guys are just always really close. You used to always w-want to sit with her at dinner, a-and sometimes you used to choose to be with her instead of me. E-Everytime Tsireya and I talk she wants to know about you and our relationship”

“It’s not what you think, my love. I…I asked Tsireya to get close to you so she could tell me how you were feeling about our relationship and know what to work on to keep you happy. I- I-I know you’re very quiet and shy and I know if I ask you directly you’ll tell me everything is fine so I needed someone else’s help” he said and you gasped slightly, burying your head in your hands.

He pulled you into his arms, stroking your back and letting you cry. “It’s okay, babe. I know you were just worried about our relationship, and you had every right to be. I can understand that it might’ve looked a certain way from the outside” he said and you shook your head.

“I-I was being sensitive and overdramatic like always” you whimpered and he sighed. He kissed your head and said “why do you talk so poorly of yourself, my love? I don’t think that about you, no one does” “That’s not true…” you said and he furrowed his eyebrows yet again.

He pulled you from his chest to look in your eyes and said “who tells you these things?” “I…when I was a child, I-I used to be made fun of a lot. Even m-my parents would make comments. Everyone a-around me felt that way. I just stay quiet now, s-so no one gets upset at me anymore” you said and he shook his head.

He kissed you softly and said “let me see…please?” He grabbed his kuru and you looked up at him nervously. You nodded and grabbed yours, connecting them. You took a deep, shaky breath and he kissed your forehead, caressing your hand with his thumb. You let him see everything, every memory you had of it all.

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, tears in his eyes. “You didn’t deserve that. Honey, you aren’t overreacting, you have real concerns and worries and I want you to tell me all of them. Don’t ever shy away from talking to me and telling me how you feel. We are about to become parents, don’t you think we shouldn’t keep secrets?”

You nodded and he smiled sadly, kissing you softly. “Why uhm…w-why…” you said quietly and stopped yourself. He could hear your thoughts through tsaheylu, you were wondering why Tsireya was there making breakfast with him.

He shook his head and said “because today's our 3 year anniversary and you're halfway through growing our little princess” You smiled and sniffled. You chuckled and hugged him.

He rubbed your back and said “you’ll never have to worry about me hurting you. I never will. If I did, I promise you it was never intentional and I’ll apologize every single day for the rest of my life” “you’re a really good husband, you know” you said, sniffling softly.

“I try,” he chuckled. He kissed you a few times, nuzzling his nose against yours. You smiled and said “oel ngati kameie, ma muntxatan” “oel ngati kameie” he said and nuzzled his nose against yours once more.

You giggled and said “you know, the baby is realllly hungry” “is she?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“We do not know if it is a girl yet,” you said and he chuckled. He rubbed your bump and said “I just know it is. She’s my little princess. And you’re my queen” “what's uhm…what’s a queen again?” You asked and he chuckled.

You still forgot human concepts here and there which he found adorable. “Like an Earth Tsahík. But way less cool” he said and you nodded, giggling. He stood up and he held his hand out to help you up.

He brought you back to your pod and Tsireya looked up and noticed your slightly reddened nose and cheeks and your still slightly teary eyes. “Oh…oh my, are you okay? Is it the baby? Is something wrong? We should get you to my mother” she said and you shook your head.

“I’m okay, Reya. The baby’s okay too. See?” You said and placed her hand on your stomach where they were kicking softly. You hugged her and she gasped a little, looking at Lo’ak as she hugged you back.

Lo’ak waved his hand dismissively and then gave a thumbs up. She rubbed your back and said “here, have some breakfast. I hope you like it” “mmm, you guys better get some while you can because it’s not gonna be here for long” you said and chuckled to yourself.

Lo’ak smiled at you as you made yourself a place and said “she was just worried that I was unfaithful because of how much time we spend together” They both giggled quietly to each other.

“I should’ve known,” she said and sighed. He shook his head and said “no, no its okay. As much as I wish she didn’t feel that way for so long, some good things came out of it” “like what?” Tsireya asked. Lo’ak bit his lip in thought and said “it’s kind of between us,”

“Ah, I see. Well, take good care of her and write out instructions for lunch and dinner for you while you eat” she said and patted his shoulder, quickly leaving the pod. He smiled to himself and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your neck.

You hummed and held a piece of fruit behind you for him to eat. “Come on, let’s eat on the shore” he said and you brought your plate out with you as he dragged you out of the pod, forcing you to sit in between his legs as you both watched the sun fully rise and relaxed together.

Taglist: @laylasbunbunny @goddesslilithmoriarty

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

#avatar #avatar 2 movie #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water #lo’ak x omaticaya!reader #lo’ak sully #lo’ak oneshot #lo’ak x y/n #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak fic #lo’ak fanfiction #lo’ak te suli tsyeyk’itan #lo’ak imagine #lo’ak fluff #lo’ak x you #lo’ak sully x reader #lo’ak avatar #lo’ak x pregnant!reader

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britcision · 10 months

Text

Okay so I’m well aware that this is probably my own fault, but a lot of people seem to have gotten the idea that Bruce is in any way important to this story

This is not a story about Batman

This is a story about the many and varied disaster gays he has trained to commit bigger and more epic disasters than any other gay in history

So let’s fix it and get back to the second most important thing in the story! Timker (and bonus Connor)

——————

Field Trips Without Permission Slips part 1

Tucker was still firmly in his happy bubble, floating along after Tim Drake-Wayne even as they left the Bat Cave.

Connor, Kon, Superboy, he’d be there soon. Tucker wanted to make a good impression; this was Tim’s boyfriend, Tucker really wanted the guy to like him.

That way they could all be friends, and he wouldn’t worry if Tucker and Tim hung out, and talked tech, and maybe got to have a hackathon…

Because of course, even notorious ladies’ man Too Fine Foley would never make a move on a taken man. That’d just be low.

He was just trying to work out what to say when Tim got a buzz on his phone. The excitement dropped off the younger man’s face in an instant, his expression immediately shifting to worry and determination.

“Something’s come up,” he said tersely, and Tucker frowned, wondering if he was about to hear about a second rogue attack in almost as many days.

Gotham… Gotham was kinda exhausting. No offence, obviously, even he could feel the Curse lingering on the back of his tongue.

But trying to keep this city safe was like bailing a sinking boat with a sieve. No wonder they needed the best of the best.

“How can I help?” Was all he offered, trying to make himself look ready and eager.

Tim’s eyes widened as he looked up, like he was only just remembering that Tucker was actually even there at all. That yeah, he definitely could help.

Actually, it turned out he was their subject matter expert when Tim explained the problem.

“Superman just told B he can’t hear Jason’s heart anymore. I don’t suppose there’s a reason you’d know of?” He asked hopefully, and Tucker’s jaw clicked shut.

Because… yeah, he could guess exactly why Jason was now out of range of super hearing. But the bats weren’t cleared to know about Jason’s halfa nature yet, and Tucker was pretty sure Jason couldn’t transform.

It’d be a wild time for him to give it a first try if Superman was listening in. He’d have to warn Danny and Jason, though that might have to wait if they’d… gone… to the Ghost Zone.

And yeah, okay, Tucker maybe shoulda thought of that first, but in his defence Danny died on a regular basis and occasionally just to show off.

Shoulders sagging as he relaxed, Tucker blew out a long breath and grinned at Tim, relief making him lax. And yeah, sure, he didn’t know why they’d gone, but he could bullshit something if they asked.

“Oh, yeah actually… they’re probably in the Ghost Zone,” he explained with a slight shrug, because really? It wasn’t a big deal.

Some of the tension leached out of Tim’s shoulders with the presence of an immediate answer.

“The Ghost Zone? That’s the Infinite Realms, right?” Tim asked and Tucker nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

It was always nice to be the guy with all the answers, but having all the answers for someone like Tim Drake-Wayne? Yeah, that felt extra good.

“Yeah, same place. It’s mostly only the Ancients that call it the Infinite Realms, and Danny and Jason probably won’t bother them.”

Not unless Clockwork chose to make another visit, but that would be an Ancient going to bother Danny and Jason.

Tim nodded thoughtfully, making some quick notes on his phone.

“Any idea why, or how long they’ll be? Bruce has probably convinced himself Jason’s dead again by now,” he added dryly, sounding neither impressed nor concerned.

Well, maybe a little concerned. Tucker had kinda gotten the stage door tickets to Batman’s opinion of Danny.

Tucker shrugged again, thinking back quickly over what Jason had told him he’d told his family. He was gonna make himself a cheatsheet if (hope of hopes) hanging out with Tim became a regular thing.

Frostbite? Yeah, they probably mentioned Frostbite. No need to mention he was an Ancient, the yeti certainly never brought it up.

“They’re probably going to see Danny’s doctor. Check Jason’s ecto contamination, see how Danny’s doing away from his haunt; that’s Amity Park,” he added as Tim’s brows furrowed momentarily. “Technically halfas don’t need need one, but Danny claimed it so we dunno what leaving will do to him.”

Which made it sound way more dramatic than it actually was; even full ghosts could leave their haunt if they wanted to. Not all of them even kept haunts in the Zone.

They’d asked last year, before Danny finally took the plunge (and yeah maybe coming out of puberty was why he’d waited a couple extra years - not that he’d gotten the promised Fenton Growth Spurt).

Frostbite had just asked if they even knew where Ember’s haunt was.

News to Tucker and the gang that she’d even had one, with how much she wanted to go on tour.

Danny’s haunt would always be his place of power, but with the power Danny wielded? He never needed it anymore. Tucker was pretty sure that when he actually became king the whole Ghost Zone was gonna be Danny’s haunt.

Not cuz anyone had explicitly said so. Just interpreting a lot of the flowery bullshit around Pariah. And no one had told him no yet either.

Tim just nodded, typing a moment more before sending off a quick reply to Bruce.

He did feel a little bad tattling on Danny and Jason like that. If they’d wanted anyone to know where they were going, they coulda just said.

But they also probably hadn’t known Superman would be listening, or notice Jason’s heart disappearing. Really Tucker was doing everyone a favour; making sure no one came back to Batman in a panic attack.

He just hoped Jason would see it the same way.

And then the single hottest person Tucker had ever seen in his entire life popped his head around the door, perfectly windswept black curls pushed back with one hand.

A smile of perfectly white, perfectly even teeth flashed as gorgeous blue eyes like the heart of the ocean landed on him and Tim.

On Tim.

Tim was smiling back even before the other entered the room.

Tim’s boyfriend.

Tucker raised Ida to cover his face without even thinking, cheeks burning and really really really hoping neither white boy knew enough about dark skin to tell.

Tim’s brother Duke was Black too.

Tucker was going to fucking die.

He could not go weak kneed at just the sight of Tim’s boyfriend!

He was only vaguely aware when the walking Adonis spoke, striding quickly into the room.

“Hey, any reason I should be worried that Jason and Danny just disappeared from Gotham’s airspace?”

Ancients even his voice was perfect, rich and smooth like dark chocolate, with just a little bass that made Tucker’s heart flutter. If that voice said his name Tucker was going to fucking die.

Tucker strangled most of the whimper in his throat because he was a fucking adult goddamn it. Jumped and almost smacked himself in the face when Tim called his name from right next to him.

Loudly.

Like he’d said it a couple times already.

And the World’s Hottest Man was looking at him too, the absolute cutest worried little frown marring his perfect brows, and oh ancients just the littlest pout on soft, full lips…

Yeah, no, someone get the headstone, Tucker would just bury himself out back.

———————

Note: I’m genuinely still turning over which name our dear Superboy Prime is going by as his regular name, since it’s… about 1000% going to depend on his relationship with Clark

I cannot fucking imagine anyone but Clark gave Kon El his Kryptonian name. Just. No fucking way. (Kara could but then we’re back to Too Many Characters and tbh she has more tact than that)

So their relationship has to be good enough that Clark offered this very personal piece of himself, and Connor’s accepted it

But Connor is the name his first friends gave him

And his civilian name, so it’s not like he can whole hog the switch

Atm the Bats call him Kon in uniform as the world’s shittiest cover but we’re getting his POV next chapter and I need to know what he calls himself, so… poll!

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara a @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife e @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer writer @chaoticmistake e @the-legal-shipper r @bun-fish @aroranorth-west t @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon on @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 1 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan n @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 7 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook

For anyone wondering, the reason the tag list looks like it’s having seizures is my phone has decided that letting me scroll around is far too convenient and it’s just going to randomly jump around if I try and move the cursor

You cannot tag a bitch on tumblr mobile without scrolling to the end of their name and selecting them on the search

If you are not at the end it will autocomplete what’s left and thus *gestures vaguely* happy WIP Wednesday

#dp x dc #danny fenton dead and loving it #wip wednesday #chapter 16 #ghost zone ghost zone ghost zone #danny phantom #Dead on main ship #danny x jason #tucker quick be less gay you’re drooling on ida #Ever see someone so hot your brain just short circuits #Tucker did #Tim gets it tho

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beybaldes · 9 months

Text

my certainty is wild, weaving

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent x gn!reader

summary : “being overprotective in front of potential partners”

content warning : roy takes a beating and gives one ! potential partner is a dick, one use of yn, me saying men who wear one earring are dicks even though I think it’s hot af I won’t lie

an : prompt was requested by both the lovely @onceuponaoneshotfanfic and the lovely @a-second-hand-sorrow because it’s the most Roy thing ever!!!!!

Roy had hated every single partner of yours he’d ever met. And each time it was one of the same two excuses: ‘they’re a prick,’ or, ‘you deserve better then that.’ And, of course, each time there was the secret third explanation for his actions: ‘I’m so certain that I’m in love with you that I can’t bare to think about you with anyone else.’

Not that Roy would ever present that reason to you.

This time, Tony - or Tom? Or Tim? Travis? Taylor? - Roy didn’t remember and he didn’t care, but he did know that whoever the guys was, he was a dick. In the ten seconds you’d left the table to grab another another drink from the bar, your date had eyed up some random girl on the table across from him, tried to chat up Keeley and tried to get Bumbercatch’s number. What kind of guy did that?

Roy knew that if he was your date tonight he wouldn’t have been able to keep his eyes off of you - he wasn’t even your date and he was struggling with that anyway - and he definitely wouldn’t have been chatting up your friends and random strangers. He couldn’t understand how you managed to attract such dicks considering you were the nicest person he’d ever met.

“So, Roy.” T-something had turned to Roy, taking a sip from him lukewarm beer between every couple of words. “You ever hit that?”

“What?” Roy didn’t know what was worse; that he wasn’t entirely sure what the guy was talking about or that the sick pit in his stomach said he was asking about you.

He hated being correct. “Y’know, yn? You ever hit that?”

Roy stayed silent in fear he’d do, or say, something stupid. He wasn’t going to lose you over some stupid comment from some stupid guy; even if it meant breaking his beer bottle with the grip he had it in.

“No? Calm. Just trying to feel out if all this is worth it.”

“Worth it?”

“Yeah.” Your date, who was quickly revealing himself to be the dick roy had assumed he was, took another, long sip of his drink, finishing it completely. “This is our, what? Fourth date? And they’ve still not let me hit, like, what gives? All I’m saying, dude, is the sex better be worth it.”

“Right, then.” Roy’s hand clapped against his knee as he stood, his movement slightly limited by the other set of chairs that pressed directly into the back of his. “Makes what I’m about to do a lot more justifiable.”

Roy had never been one to pull his punches, and especially not when it came to you, and he’d say he’d never seen someone hit the floor so quickly but that would be a lie. When you return to the table amidst the commotion, your mouth hung open in a gasp that never slipped past your lips. Tim, your date, was on the floor, his hand cradling his nose as blood poured past his fingers and dripped onto the ground.

“Babe, thank God you’re back. Roy-“

“Had a good reason to do that, I assume.” You ignored Tim, who remained on the floor cradling his face and walked right up to Roy. As you crossed to get to his side of the table, you placed down the two beers you’d picked up for the boys, both of Roy’s favourite kind even though Tim had asked for something different, and your own drink too.

You grabbed Roy’s hand, loosely planting your fingers between his and pulling him out of the bar without so much as a goodbye to Tim or the team. Thankfully, the walk back to your apartment was a short one, and the night air was filled with an early summer breeze so it didn’t matter that you’d left your jacket in your seat. You hadn’t even thought about it until your mindlessly tried to take it off once you’d made it inside; your entire focus had been on Roy and they way he’d punched your date and let you hold his hand the whole way home.

“Was he a dick?” Roy just grunted as you pulled him into your bathroom, pulling out your little, under sink, first aid kit to deal with the scratch that ran along his knuckle. “Your aims getting bad, old man.”

“My sight isn’t that-“

“-good at night anymore? Yeah, I know. Explains why you’ve got the outline of his earring imprinted across your knuckles.” Roy barely moved as you wiped across the top of his knuckles, making sure nothing was bleeding or would have the opportunity to get infected.

“Should’ve known he was a dick when he showed up in that stupid earring.” The first words Roy had said since he’d landed a hit on your date and you desperately struggled to keep your laughter in. “Who the fuck even wears a single earring?”

“Jamie.”

“Yeah, and he’s the prince prick of all pricks.”

“Sure. That’s what you really think about him.” Finally, the tension had began to seep from Roy’s feature and he had seemed to calmed down. “You didn’t need to punch him, y’know. I’m sure a ‘fuck off’ or ‘you’re a cunt’ would’ve done the job.”

“Yeah? Well, you didn’t hear what he was saying about you.” You dropped the used wipe into the small bin under the sink then slipped your arms around Roy’s waist, pulling him close to you. “Fucking vile.”

“I’m sure it was.” Your fingers ran over the surprisingly soft material of his suit jacket, only now taking in the opportunity to really look at what he’d worn tonight. “I know you wouldn’t do it for no reason.”

“I hit anyone for you. Anytime, anywhere.”

“Geez Roy-o, just say you’re in love with me and get it over with.” Roy just smiled down at your folding, his injured hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb running over the apple of it softly. “You want to stay over tonight? The left side of my bed is awfully cold and desperately empty.”

“Only if I can do something first.”

“Do what?”

Roy leant down slightly, closing the tiny gap that had separated the two of you in one movement of his head. It was a surprisingly soft kiss, compared to what you had imagined kissing Roy would ever be like, but that wasn’t to say you didn’t enjoy it. You didn’t think you’d ever liked anything more then the gentle press of his lips against yours.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You answered breathlessly as he pulled away from the kiss, keeping his lips only an inch away from yours, ready to go in for another, and another, and maybe even another kiss, if you let him. “Yeah, you can definitely do that, like, again. More. If you want to.”

“Definitely want to.” He promised, soothing your hair back being your ear, his hand returning to cup your cheek as soon as he’d done. “But I’d hate to leave the left side of your bed cold for much longer.”

“Race you.” You sprinted out of the bathroom and down the hall to your bedroom, not waiting up for Roy and doing your best to not listen for the sound of his footsteps getting closer and closer to the door.

You knew, the second Roy entered the room, the left side of your bed would never go cold and empty again, and his promise would instantly be made good on. Not that you were complaining.

#beybaldes summer sleepover !!#ted lasso x reader #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent one shot

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munsster · 1 year

Text

gold-skinned eager baby

A/N: touch tank was written for billy and i'll die on that hill

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary: “He tells me he’s gentle when he wants to be/So I think he wants to be gentle with me.” 3.3k.

Warnings: this song is a riot, billy hargrove, enemies to lovers, pet names (sweetheart, babe, peach[es]), cursing, bullying(?), an accidental clueless reference 🫣

"You're an asshole."

You'd done a lot of shoving in your lifetime: other kids down the slide, cackling friends' shoulders, handsy creeps. But you haven't done nearly as much shoving as Billy has. So when you shove him—two fingertips to the chest—he takes a step back and scoffs.

"You wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

It was supposed to be a birthday party. It was supposed to be your birthday party, but Billy found you crying over him in the backyard and immediately made it known how drunk and horny he was. You poured the rest of your glass of red out onto his leg—albeit on accident, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit, shoulder-checking him on your way inside. But he grabs your wrist and stops you for a second. And the cold air seeps in, a sheen of frost creeping over your bones when he really grips your arm. "Let go of me—"

"You ungrateful little bitch, I'm here for you, the least you could do is say something fuckin’ nice.”

"Oh, I'm sorry you took time off your busy panty-dropping schedule to be here, but I'm not in the mood to suck you off, alright? Let me go."

There’s a huff of dissatisfaction and rejection on the tip of his tongue. It turns stale in the cold, bubbling up into a fog and through the cloud he sees the glimmer of heartbreak gracing your waterline. When his stomach turns, he can’t tell if it’s the ambrosia in the punch bowl or the vomit-inducing heartache you leave him with. Either way, he feels like dying.

—

He watches you from the driver’s side of his car. The dark red stain on his thigh turning his jeans into a watercolor of self-loathing.

Then you look at him. With something like disgust and pity, though you can’t exactly bring yourself to look away when he stamps out the butt of his cigarette and whips his car door open. He glances at you just before he ducks in and peels out of the lot. He’s exasperated, and he can’t put his finger on why.

“What are you looking at?” the girl on your right chirps.

And the girl next to her says, “Not a what, a who.”

“Nobody,” you huff.

“It’s Billy—!”

“Nobody.”

—

“I lost Max. Can’t fuckin’ find her.” He’s panicked over the phone. You’ve never heard him so sick. Shaky, that’s what you’d say. He sounds nervous and cold, and he called you, of all people, to find his little sister.

“So what? She’s not with me.”

“I—” he sighs, “I know. That’s obviously not why I called.”

“You asking me for help?”

He can tell you’re tugging on your sleeve by now. You used to do it when you got too cocky. Manicured nails picking at the hem. A compulsion. It’s compulsive. But it takes the weight off, and he takes a deep breath.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He’s nursing a deep regret in the pit of his stomach, but he’ll call it resentment. That’s it; he hates you. And you hate him. And that won’t change tonight, and it certainly won’t make him any less stubborn. Not even when you get into his car with a casserole dish in your hands.

“Leftovers,” you mumble, “She forced me out here with the tupperware, couldn’t stop her.”

“‘S fine. Shut the door.”

And you do. “Real nice, Billy.”

“Compared to you, I’m a ray-of-fucking sunshine.”

“Are you implying that you’re nice?”

“When I want to be.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoff.

“I can be nice.” He nearly whines, but he’s not that desperate. He doesn’t want your approval that bad. He doesn’t want it, and he’s not getting it. But despite everything—the loathing, the foaming at the mouth—it makes him feverishly starving for it

“I’d like to see you try.”

—

Billy’s been stewing over you for weeks. It’s become a mantra, and his friends spare each other glances every time he utters your name.

And honestly, he forgot you worked here. It was an accident, and it wasn’t even his suggestion. Some shitty diner, that was the criteria. Cheap food, low lighting, and the hostess making eyes at him. It’s just what he needed until he saw you in that sorry excuse for a uniform. As if a miniskirt could ever be company policy.

“Look, Hargrove, it’s your girl.”

“Not my fuckin’ girl, dumbass.” Oh, but does his heart flutter at the idea. Somersaults when you smile at a customer. When you could be his girl. He could brand you his and keep you safe from the old guys at the bar and sneak through your window on Friday nights. But that’s where it begins and ends: an idea. It would never happen. He’d die before letting it happen.

“Well, in that case, don’t mind if I do—Ay, sweetheart, grab me a coke, would’ya?”

Your head whips around, and you smirk at the sight of his freckles. Almost old friends. Just a familiar face, really.

“Hi, Tommy,” you coo, and Billy puts his cigarette out on the white vinyl table with a grunt. “Billy.”

“Actually, how ‘bout one for my friend, too, huh, babe?”

“No problem. Anything else? How ‘bout you, Billy? Want a side of fries with all that brooding?”

“Atta girl,” Tommy howls, “lay one on me before you go, sweetheart.” Billy watches you dip down and plant a soft kiss on Tommy’s cheek, and it gets him green. Zaps the color from his face until he’s clenching his jaw into a frown.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, Hagan.” He pushes off from the table and storms out without another word. You watch him from the kitchen, his soft curls ruffled at the back of his neck. In a way, it made you happy to see him leave. Though, it also made you impossibly frustrated. You felt thwarted—defeated and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Neither could he.

—

“Max, where’d you put my lighter?”

“I didn’t take it, I don’t know,” she hollers, winding up to shut the door to her room. His palm stops it before it can slam, and when it creaks back open, the air is punched from his lungs.

You’re perched at the foot of Max’s bed, peering up at him sweetly and yet devoid of care. All friendly. He licks at the corner of his mouth, eyes flicking back to Max with a half-sneer.

“Well,” he sighs, “if you find it, would you let me know?”

She cocks her head back like she’s confused. This is usually the part where they toss threats back and forth until it turns into a screaming match. So why was he being so calm about this? He had just accused her of stealing and then took it back in the blink if an eye.

“I… yeah, sure.”

“Thanks”—he’s about to leave when he taps on the door frame and glances at you over her shoulder. You take her headphones off and set them around your neck, doe-eyed and demure so much so that it takes him off-guard. Cranks up the elevator music and makes him feel dislocated in a way that makes him thrilled—“How long is she staying?”

You butt in, “we were gonna watch a scary movie. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.” God, does he want that. Like his life depends on it. Like he can feel your head on his shoulder and his palm on your knee and his nerves alight at the sound of your breathing. But Max puckers her lips at the sour taste in her mouth, and it makes him shake his head.

“I think I’ll stick to Neil’s six pack of pale ales,” he says.

You chuckle. The soft sound makes him nervous beyond belief, so he backs into the hallway and slumps to his room.

—

Billy had raced up to your porch, and for once in his life he didn’t know what to say. His mouth felt glued shut. He felt weighed down. Yet here he was, cemented to your welcome mat, knuckles rapping hard against your door.

And you open it groggy, in your pajamas, and glowing nonetheless. Beautiful, but he’d never say it. He shoves his hands into his pockets, mouth hanging open like he’s a flytrap. He feels sticky like one, at least. There’s a faint orange glow haloed around you, and maybe he’s dead. No.

He’s standing on your porch drinking you in just to spew you out. Days have gone by, weeks, months, and not a minute has passed. You squint at him when he shuffles around in his big boots. He makes a lotta noise and it makes him cringe.

“Earth to Billy?” you coo, waving your soft palm in front of his face, tilting your head to the side when he puffs up his chest. He put on a new shirt for this. And it makes him feel like a child. He drove to the store for a brand new goddamn shirt just to impress you. Just in case you noticed and thought a little sweeter of him. It’s futile, and yet it makes him feel better when you peer at the flat-ironed collar in stunned silence.

“I just…” he grumbles, shrugging. The words escape him like his fingers are covered in oil and he’s grasping at straws. He has so much to say, so why can’t he. “I was just stopping by.”

“Okay,” you nod, glancing behind you at the clock. He’s just stopping by at eleven o’clock on a Wednesday. When you turn to look at him, he’s got these puppy dog eyes that catch you by surprise. Wide and blue and pleading. Like he’s got something sick to hope for. “D’you wanna… come inside?”

“Oh—no. I, uh… I gotta go,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck, not taking his eyes off you. His stomach churns, and there’s a lump in his throat when he turns and treads back to his idling car. He hears your door click shut, and he exhales from so deep in his chest it aches.

“Who was that, honey?”

“Billy.”

“What did he want?”

“Dunno. Looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

—

The next time you saw Billy, it was summer. Indiana’s hottest and grossest. But he looked cute in those swim trunks, and the whistle dangling from between his teeth had all the pool moms swooning. You couldn’t care less, of course. He’s just another lifeguard. But you have to admit his hair looks softer now. Taken care of. And when his eyes sweep over you, you have to look away for fear of grinning about it.

“Hey, stranger.”

It comes up from behind you and sweeps your feet out from under you. Suddenly, you’re smiling at him and you guess he’s right. Stranger. You’ve been to his house, been to your shared classes, been to Tommy’s parties, but Billy always found a way to avoid you. And maybe you missed it. The way he used to hang around. Even the scowl on his face was better than nothing.

“Been a while, huh?”

You nod, and it feels a little silly to be so casual. But you can’t stop your jackhammering heart and the way he shuffles closer.

“You look good,” you huff, raking over his damp skin and drowning in it. Forcing your mouth shut when you catch how sun-kissed he’s gotten. Freckled softly across the nose, evenly tan head to toe, though the tan line peeking out at his hips would imply otherwise

“Thanks, peach. I like your suit. Strappy” Oh, and the way his brow cocks upward is unfair. He’s all supple and dewy under the sun and slathered in tanning oil. He smells sweet like warm vanilla or toasted coconut. And he compliments you like nothing. Like it’s not heart-stopping and world-ending and fire-starting.

“You’re making me sick,” Max groans, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, boo-hoo,” he teases, “I shut my mouth when you bring Sinclair around.”

You freeze. You know Max and Lucas are dating. She brings him up every possible moment, so why on Earth would Billy compare them to now. It gets you honeyed and melting, but that could be the solar radiation. Billy puts his hands on his hips when Max shrugs.

“Yeah, well, at least we’re not gross about our flirting.”

Flirting. She thinks you’re flirting. She thinks you’re both flirting. But Billy flirts with everyone, so it would be silly to leave you out, right? And that look on his face is probably from heat exhaustion anyway. But he grins, and you feel yourself growing fonder when sweat pricks across his chest and he winks at you.

—

Max had passed out sprawled across the couch cushions, popcorn bowl tucked under her arm, snoring into her other hand. And you sat at her feet, pressing the power button on the remote. You sigh and pat her calf before standing.

“Hey,” Billy whispers, softly reaching into the crook of your elbow when you stumble across the carpet in the dark and into his chest. And his fingers go pliant where skin meets skin and his heart-rate verges on heart attack.

“Sorry, can’t see shit,” you mumble, nose still hovering mere inches from the warmth of his body. You never noticed how warm he ran until now. Breathing this close, his palm sliding to your wrist, his lips parted in a smile.

“I noticed,” he teases, “C’mon, I’m thirsty.” You follow him close to the kitchen, the cold tile and the moonlight and the breeze against the old window plaguing you with goosebumps. You rub at your eye when he reaches for two glasses from the cabinet.

“Time is it?” you coo, staying close though you can see where you’re going. It’s just easy warmth, and you’re a heat-seeking missile.

“‘Bout one in the morning. Want ice?”

“Mmh.”

He turns the tap handle, and the water splashes out into the cup and sloshes around the bottom until it’s filled to the brim. He holds it out for you, and you take it in your cupped hands.

“How was the movie?”

You swallow a mouthful of the liquid, and it cools the pit of your stomach and makes you feel real in your socks in his kitchen.

“Alright. Probably wouldn’t go out of my way to watch it again.”

“Alright,” he says, peppering a chuckle in behind it, and when he lifts the glass to his lips, you feel giddy at the sight of his bare arms. You realize that he’s in a wife beater and plaid boxer shorts and the conversation falters under your tongue. You snap your mouth shut and take a long sip of water.

“I gotta admit something. And you gotta hold me to it or I’ll back down.”

You take a soft breath in when he turns to face you, hip leaned against the counter. “Deal.”

“I’ve been…” he sighs, “an idiot.”

You scoff, “Yeah, to say the least—”

“Hey, I’m trying to be serious over here.”

“Sorry, sorry. Continue.”

“Alright—”

“But you did kinda disappear without warning—”

“Listen, I was dealing with something. Didn’t feel like sticking around.” He sets his glass down, and even in the dark you know he’s glaring at you.

“Yeah, well, seemed all too willing to completely cut yourself off from everyone. I mean, from your own sister, Billy. From me.”

“But I’m here now—”

“Not even a goodbye, Billy, we were all confused and hurt—”

“God, don’t you get it? I couldn’t stay away from you,” he huffs, hands on the edge of the sink and facing the window. His head is slightly tilted back, enough to bare his neck to the night. To drench himself in gentle moonlight and take a deep breath. He barely gives you time to process, and you’re stuck still, head and heart rolling over and desperate.

“I can’t stay away from you. Believe me, I tried. All it did was give me fuckin’ withdrawals”—he chuckles heavily, all hot air and panic when he blinks at you—“I missed you. I missed your voice and your laugh and the way you’d look at me like I meant nothing and everything at the same time. I felt so fucking pathetic listening to you and Max talk about random shit from the other room. Tommy used to call and tell me every time you asked where I was. And it used to happen everyday. I got so sick of hearing about you. But then week after week passed and it wasn’t everyday anymore. And then he stopped reaching out, and I felt like a piece of shit.”

You feel small. Collapsed when you rest your glass in the sink.

“It was kind of a dick move,” you whisper.

“I know!” he huffs, “I know.”

He’s watching you like a hawk when you finally look up at him. And there’s that look. You bite your cheek to stop yourself from frowning. He’s embarrassed. If the lights were on he’d look sunburnt and out of breath. But it’s dark, and it makes you nervous to look at him for too long.

“You know I missed you, too,” you say, “Felt so stupid looking everywhere for you. Even went to parties just to see you. Never did, of course, but I wanted to. God, I wanted to see you. You’re such an asshole.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I fucked up, I know it.”

“Good.”

Billy’s fired up enough to bury his face in his hands. When you shuffle closer, he thinks you might deck him for your troubles. But you poke his side, and wait for him to lift his head. You smile.

The sweetest thing he’s seen in months. Your eyes twinkle when you tilt your head, fingers slinking up to tug the curled piece of hair drooping at his brow-bone. He swears your hip presses against his just then, but maybe it’s wishful and a waste. You’re still smiling, though, and it makes him giddy.

“Don’t go feeling all sorry for yourself over it. I’d hate to have to take pity on you,” you tease, swiping an innocent thumb across his cheek but the pull away can’t come soon enough. You’re just stepping back when his eyes go wide, and he catches you like fireflies in the late spring. Oh, if only he could keep you in a jar. If only it were that easy.

“Well, I’d hate to cause you that kind of suffering, peach.” You tuck your chin—demure enough to get a rise out of him. With his big hand on your hip, you’re feeling shy, but he’d call you coy for fun. He’s never seen you so reduced.

“Guess I better put you out of your misery then, huh?”

“Guess so.”

“Got any ideas? I’m at a loss unless steak knives will suffice.”

“Here, I’ve got a better idea,” he hums, “C’mere, it’s a secret.”

“Were the only ones—”

“Just play nice. It’s my misery, isn’t it?”

“Touché, Hargrove,” you say, and you lean in to where he beckons you, where he brings you close with the palm of his hand. You’ve never been near enough to smell his cologne until now, and you’re glad it lingers on his skin the way it does. The way it seeps in until the scent is so purely Billy you don’t know the difference.

When you lean in, cheek-to-cheek, he can’t hold back any longer. His index finger swoops under your chin, and he catches your bottom lip between his. Sure, he ducks a little, but he doesn’t mind. And the way you purr and melt under his touch is delightful.

His stubble scratches your mouth softly until you’re giggling about it, and he pulls away drooling and dizzy.

“What’s so funny? Taste weird or somethin’?”

“No way—just… glad you got tired of waiting ‘s all.”

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

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We're Getting Married Now?

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!LAPD!reader

Summary: When Tim finds out you need a fake boyfriend to take to your cousin's wedding, he steps up and offers to go with you. After a night in his arms, you learn that his "boyfriend act" isn't just an act.

Warnings: I referenced a few lines from The Rookie (no spoilers though), a few vague mentions of insecurities and rude family members (they apologize). lots and lots of fluff!! one bed trope?

Word Count: 4.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When your phone rings on the way to work, you don’t expect to see your aunt’s name on the caller ID.

“Hello?” you greet.

“Hey, sweetheart. I was going through the seating chart for your cousin’s wedding and seemed to have misplaced your RSVP,” she explains.

“I, uh, I didn’t get an invite. She’s getting married?”

“Of course. You lot aren’t getting any younger, as I’m sure you know, and when she met her fiancé, well, I think we all knew. Anyway, you say you didn’t get an invite? Must’ve gotten lost in the mail, those incompetent kids aren’t as reliable as they used to be. I suppose that explains your lack of congratulations, though, which I’m sure everyone will be relieved to hear.”

“I bet,” you mumble before asking, “So what do you need from me? Sorry to interrupt, but I’m nearly to work.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I suppose the wedding planning is making me a touch scatter brained. All I need from you is a confirmation that you are attending. It’s at her fiancé’s family orchard, I’ll send you the address. Everyone is coming out Friday evening and the wedding is Sunday afternoon.”

“Uh, yeah, I have this weekend off. I may be a bit later on Friday, but I’ll be there.”

“And I’ll assume you’re still single, so no plus one. Although, sweetie, you really shouldn’t let this discourage you. I’m sure you have plenty going for you and the right man is out there somewhere,” she says, lowering her voice as pity laces every word.

“Actually, I’ll be bringing my boyfriend. If there’s room for one more, of course.”

The words come out before you can stop them, and after you slam your gear shift up and set your brake, you grip your steering wheel with both hands.

“Boyfriend? Well, good for you, sweetheart, I didn’t want to seem insensitive before, but your clock is ticking! I will put you down for two then. Oh, one more thing-“

“I’m actually at work and can’t be late. I’ll see you Friday,” you rush out before ending the call.

Hitting the back of your head against the headrest, you wonder who you can ask on such short notice. Getting a fake boyfriend is entirely avoidable, of course. You’d have to tell another lie about him being sick or dumping you or call your aunt and explain that her constant jabs at your lacking love life pushed you to speak without thinking.

“That would go well,” you murmur as you gather the strength to get out of your car.

She’d probably say something like, “Well then he just wasn’t the one,” before telling everyone that you did something to get dumped, or she’d remind you that you’re running out of time, it’s practically too late, so you should stop trying. You don’t mind being single, but she rips you apart, finding a way to make it your fault for being too busy with work, unwilling to compromise, or “looking too chubby in red.” (Her words.)

As you walk into the station and change into your uniform, you are struck with the perfect idea.

“Nolan!” you call, rushing to his side before he can enter roll call. “I need a favor.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll do what I can,” he answers kindly.

“Long story short I need a fake boyfriend to go to my cousin’s wedding or my aunt will expose me as a dirty rotten liar who can’t get a boyfriend.”

“Wow,” Nolan responds. “Does she really- never mind. When’s the wedding?”

“This weekend.”

“Bailey and I are going to San Diego to meet Henry for a few days. I’m so sorry, I’d help you if I could.”

“Yeah, no problem. Thanks anyway,” you tell Nolan while looking for someone else you can ask. “Aaron!”

Aaron turns in the doorway, stepping back toward you and Nolan with raised brows.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“I need a date, a fake boyfriend for a wedding this weekend.”

“I don’t do weddings.”

“Aaron, please,” you plead.

“Look, I’d love to help you, but my family’s got a big dinner thing this weekend and they rarely end well, so I’m booked.” He pats your arm and adds, “Hope you find someone who can help.”

You nod as he walks inside. Looking around the station, you realize your options are very limited.

“Think Angela would let me borrow Wesley for a few days?” you ask Nolan.

“Why don’t you just find someone to actually take as a date?”

“Because that’s the entire problem, Nolan. I can’t get a date.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

As you follow him into roll call, you whisper, “I’m going to have to ask Smitty.”

Nolan stifles a laugh, shaking his head as he takes his seat. You tune Wade out after receiving your assignment for the day, glancing around the room as you try to find someone else you can ask. Maybe you should just cancel, tell your aunt that you’re the one who got sick, and now neither you nor your boyfriend can make it.

Standing in the bullpen, you have your aunt’s contact pulled up on your phone but can’t seem to press the call button.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Sergeant Bradford,” Nolan says. “I need some advice.”

“I already don’t like this, but go ahead,” Tim replies, resting his hands against his belt.

“If a fellow officer, a close friend, was going to cancel going to a family member’s wedding because she couldn’t find a fake boyfriend to keep her controlling aunt off her back, would you help her?”

Tim doesn’t answer, turning away from Nolan. As he walks toward the bullpen, Nolan raises a fist in victory, hoping it works out for you and Tim. It’s clear to everyone that you have feelings for each other, but neither of you seems eager to do anything about them. Maybe this is the push you need to take the next step.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim’s hand covers your phone screen before he takes it from you, holding it by his side.

“You need a fake boyfriend?” he asks.

“Who told you? ... Nolan, I should’ve known not to trust him and his big mouth.”

“Who’s getting married?”

“My cousin,” you answer, pursing your lips in confusion about why he’s interested.

“The cousin from the aunt that manipulates and belittles you every time you see her?”

“I’m still sorry for calling you that day, I shouldn’t have. Just didn’t have anyone else to cry to.”

“She lied to you, told you things about yourself that couldn’t have been further from the truth. So, now that you have lied to her, what are you going to do about it?”

“Cancel,” you whisper. “If I can just press the button to call her.”

“I’ll call her,” Tim offers, raising your phone. “Or I can go with you.”

“Tim, I can’t ask you to do this- to lie for me and spend your weekend off at a wedding, around people you don’t know.”

“You’re not asking,” Tim reminds you. “Which one? I make a call, or I go with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Tim smiles while assuring, “We’re friends, and we’ve been on vacation together before. This is just like that.”

“I don’t want to go…”

“But you don’t want to deal with the grief you’ll get if you don’t. I get it, but I’ll help in any way I can.”

You nod, taking your phone from Tim. “Thank you.”

“When do we leave?”

“Friday night. The wedding’s Sunday.”

“Two days before? Why?”

“I don’t even want to think about that right now.”

Tim raises your right hand, pushing a bent paper clip over your finger as he promises, “I will make sure you survive this weekend.”

“And I… will apologize in advance.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you get out of the shower Friday night and get dressed, all you can think about is the weekend ahead. If you or Tim get uncomfortable, you could put your relationship on the line to look like a happy couple in front of your family.

Tim’s knock draws you from your thoughts, and when he takes your bag from you, you realize something: Tim already acts like your boyfriend, so he really is boyfriend material. Your crush on him is bound to be affected over the next 48 hours, but he agreed to this, so maybe there’s a chance he feels more than friendship, too. Shaking the idea from your head, you accept Tim’s help as you climb into the passenger seat of his truck. He waits until he’s on the freeway to ask you about the wedding and your family.

“What’s the fiancé like?” he asks.

“I haven’t met him. Didn’t even know they were getting married until a few days ago.”

Tim nods, laying his elbow on the center console and moving closer to you without thinking.

“I- I want to go ahead and tell you that you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. My family can be a lot-“

“I’m not here for them. I’m spending the weekend with you, and nothing more. Remember that, okay? So, if you need an excuse, a buffer, anything you want or need, that’s me this weekend.”

“I can never repay you for this.”

“I’ll give you a call next time I need a wedding date,” Tim suggests.

“Deal,” you reply with an easy smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

Someone squeals your name, and Tim grips your hand when you flinch.

“I’m so glad you made it!” the woman says, pulling you into a hug.

“Of course. And congratulations!” you reply. “Sorry about the invitation confusion.”

“Oh, no worries, I get it. Stuff happens. My mom said you were bringing your boyfriend?”

Tim steps forward, wrapping an arm around your waist as he offers his other hand. “I’m Tim, the boyfriend your mom mentioned.”

“Oh,” your cousin says, shaking his hand. She looks between you and Tim, and as you begin to expect a sarcastic comment, she says, “Nice to meet you, Tim.”

“That wasn’t so bad,” Tim whispers in your ear.

“I guess I could’ve been overthinking it,” you admit.

“You’re in chateau Sauvignon Blanc,” a man says, passing a key to Tim. “Follow the white path and you won’t miss it.”

“The chateaus are named after wine,” Tim muses. “Must be nice to be marrying into a family of nepotism.”

You laugh at him, and when he refuses to let you carry your bag to the chateau, you fall into easy conversation on the short walk. Entering, however, you stop in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asks quickly, stepping forward so his chest presses against your back.

“Nothing, just- there’s only one bed in here,” you say quietly.

“I think we can make it work. There’s always the floor if you want to treat your fake boyfriend like that,” Tim jokes, closing the door and tossing your bags on a nearby chair.

“I- why’d you agree to come?” you ask him.

“You needed a date.”

You don’t quite accept that. It’s not enough reason for someone as logical as Tim Bradford. You don’t have time to question him further, though, as you receive a text that dinner is being served in the main tasting room in just a few minutes.

“Hey,” Tim says, laying his hands on your shoulders. “We’re two people on vacation together. It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

“Sorry. It’s just, this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“That’s okay, but we’re going to keep moving. No one knows me here, so I’m whatever-“

��I need you to be,” you repeat. “Thank you.”

Tim smiles, and you take your bag into the bathroom to get ready while he changes. When you exit, wearing your favorite outfit and hairstyle, Tim stands, offering both his hands.

“You look stunning.”

“Clean up pretty nicely yourself, Mr. Bradford.”

“Oh, so you’re a flirty girlfriend?”

You roll your eyes, attempting to pull away from Tim. He tightens his hands around yours and pulls you into a hug, hooking one arm around you as he leads you back to the white path.

✯✯✯✯✯

Sitting beside Tim, your hand stays in his until the food is served. So far, all of the attention has been on your cousin and her fiancé, and you’re more than happy to listen along to their chatter rather than talk yourself.

“What about you two?” your grandfather asks. “How’d you meet?”

Tim moves his hand out of yours, patting above your knee as he answers, “We met at work; different divisions, but we joined forces for a narcotics bust and I just couldn’t get her off my mind, so I had to ask her out.”

“How long have you been together?” someone inquires.

“5 years,” you and Tim say together. You add, “But we’ve only been serious for what? 6 months or so?”

“Since you finally agreed to my begging, you mean?” Tim asks, sending you a comforting smile. “Yeah, about that.”

“Cute,” your cousin comments before the conversation returns to her.

You close your eyes and release a breath, leaning toward Tim when his hand covers yours again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How are we doing this?” You ask, standing at the side of the bed with your arms wrapped around your waist.

“It’s a bed,” Tim says, blinking at you. “Seems pretty straightforward.”

“Well, yeah, but… what if I, like, snore more or something?”

“I’ll live. Just get in the bed.”

You crawl under the covers, murmuring, “Thought you were gonna call me boot there for a second.”

“I still may,” Tim responds as he turns the light off, lying beside you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes. Thank you, Tim.”

“No problem.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up, it’s a few minutes before dawn, and a strong arm is holding you against the mattress. When you try to move, Tim pulls you closer before tucking you against him as he relaxes again.

“Friends on vacation,” you remember, pressing your cheek against his chest as you get comfortable.

Suddenly, you remember you have to survive another night by his side. The idea makes you want to pull away, but his touch and heartbeat lull you back to sleep before you can.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Your cousin is here,” Tim whispers, shaking you gently. “She wants to talk to you about dresses.”

“You’re a snuggler,” you mumble as Tim pulls you out of bed.

“No one will ever believe you,” Tim says darkly.

“Is she really here?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that. This isn’t a horror movie.”

Nodding, you pick up a change of clothes and move into the bathroom. Tim’s voice is muffled through the wall, but you can tell he’s being civil even as his patience wears thin. Straightening your outfit, you open the door and smile at your cousin and Tim.

“You’re wearing that?” she asks.

“You’re beautiful,” Tim says, smiling at you.

“What exactly are we doing?” you ask.

“I wanted to see the dress you’re planning to wear to the rehearsal tonight and the wedding and reception tomorrow. If you need something different, we can-“

“I won’t need different dresses,” you interrupt. “I like the ones I brought.”

“As do I,” Tim adds. “But I’ll leave you two to talk about dresses.” He stands, kissing your temple and pausing by your side to whisper, “Call if you need someone to save you.”

Smiling, you tell him to be careful. Your cousin waits until he leaves to sit on the end of the bed, waiting for you to show the dresses you packed.

As you hold them up, you remember Tim's compliments this morning as you hide your smile at her surprised reaction. And his arm around you last night. He’s taking his fake boyfriend duties seriously, and you’re unsure if your feelings can survive another night beside him.

“They’re pretty,” your cousin says finally. “I have a few more things to do before the rehearsal this evening, but I’ll see you around.”

“Congratulations again,” you call, exiting the chateau behind her to look for Tim.

When you round a corner on the white path, you run directly into Tim. His arms come up to catch you, holding you against his chest as he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Did it go okay?” he asks, rubbing a hand down your spine.

“Yeah. She said the dresses were pretty, so that was unexpected.”

“Wait ‘til she sees them on you,” Tim replies. “Can’t imagine getting upstaged at my own wedding.”

“What do you want to do for the rest of the day? The rehearsal isn’t until 5 and then most of the wedding party is leaving for bachelor and bachelorette parties.”

“You could model the dresses.”

“Stop,” you plead, laughing as you press against Tim’s chest.

“It’s my duty as your boyfriend.”

“I knew I should have asked Smitty.”

Tim narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t make me think about that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where do you think the red path goes?” you ask.

“Are you asking me on a treasure hunt date?” Tim replies.

“Maybe. Care to follow our own version of the yellow brick road? See if you can find your usual personality on the way back to Kansas?”

“You don’t like my new personality? The one I created just for you?”

“Tim,” you warn. “Red path, yes or no?”

Tim takes your hand, leading you out of the chateau and back toward his truck before turning onto the other path.

“If we find a crime scene or something,” you begin.

“What?” Tim interrupts dramatically.

“If we find something unexpected, what then?”

“Wait,” Tim calls, gently pulling you back toward him. “What is this about?”

Glancing down, you say, “Last night.”

“Look, if I made you uncomfortable-“

“No, not at all. The, uh, the unexpected part was how much I liked it,” you admit quietly.

Tim taps his knuckle lightly against your chin, smiling as you raise your head to look at him.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I don’t want to ruin anything. We’re friends, and I care about you, but this weekend could ruin everything if I make one wrong move.”

“You said it yourself, we’re friends, and we’ve been friends for years. Walking on eggshells around me all weekend is unnecessary, not to mention more dangerous than just telling me you like being cuddled.”

“You like being cuddled.”

“Never say that aloud again.”

You chuckle, taking Tim’s hand as you begin walking again. After a few minutes of walking in silence, you stop.

“The red path looks exactly like the white path,” you point out.

“Not true. The red path is red, and the white is white.”

“Wow. You should have been a detective.”

“Are we on the same page?” Tim murmurs.

“Yeah, I’ll be myself with you this weekend. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Nerd.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, Dorothy.”

You roll your eyes, walking away from Tim. He laughs before taking a few long steps to catch up with you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Tim apologizes, and you lean against him, trying to remember what he said about being honest.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hi, sweetheart,” your aunt greets you as you enter the venue for the rehearsal dinner. “You are at table 2, and your boyfriend is at table 9.”

“You didn’t seat us together?” you ask.

“Well, it was late notice, learning you were bringing a plus one. Sorry.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks.”

Tim lays his hand on your lower back, leading you to your table.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, reaching over the table before leaving.

You watch him walk to his table, switching a nameplate before returning to your side. He sets his nameplate on the seat beside you, sighing as he sits.

“Have I told you recently that you’re the best?”

“You don’t have to, I know,” Tim answers smugly.

“What do you want to do when this is over?”

“Planning ahead, aren’t we?” Tim smiles as he leans toward you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Exiting the venue, you take Tim’s hand, wrapping your other hand around his forearm as you walk beside him. He tugs you closer, keeping you close until you’re back in your chateau. After changing quickly and washing your face, you collapse onto the bed.

“I thought my family was tiring,” Tim jokes.

“Still up for cud- lying closely on the same piece of furniture?” you correct.

Tim leans over you, smiling as he says, “Since you asked so nicely.”

You stare at the ceiling until Tim returns and pulls you into his side as he lays beside you. Rolling against him, pressing your ear to his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, you accept that things are changing.

“I don’t think we can go back to how things were before,” you mutter.

“Me neither,” Tim agrees softly, moving his hand to your upper back.

“Did I ruin everything by letting you come with me?”

Tim rolls onto his side, facing you rather than holding you.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow? Does everything get awkward after the wedding?”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Tim answers. “I offered to come because it was an opening to spend time with you.”

“But-“

“We’re friends, right? That’s what we say but that’s not how it feels.”

“How does it feel?” you whisper.

“Like more. Tell me you’ve been pretending, and I’ll let this go, but nothing I’ve said this weekend has been a lie or an act.”

“I have feelings for you,” you confess. “I have for years, but I didn’t know how to tell you or what you’d think. So…”

“We both did. Stay quiet to preserve a friendship that could have been much more.”

Inhaling deeply, you move forward, closing the distance between you and Tim.

“You asked what happens after the wedding,” Tim says. “I’d like to keep going from here.”

“I’d like that too.”

Tim smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he rolls over, pulling you with him. You laugh against him, falling silent when you look into his eyes.

“Can I-“ Tim begins.

“Kiss me,” you demand.

Tim cups your cheeks as he pulls you down against him, kissing you softly. You slide your arms over his chest, holding his jaw as you reciprocate his every move. Tim’s arm tightens around your waist before someone knocks on the door.

Pulling away, you sigh before getting out of bed, cracking the door open to see who it is.

“Hi,” you greet, surprised to see your aunt outside.

“I moved your seats for the wedding and reception,” she tells you. “Since you seem inseparable.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry for earlier, and for interrupting. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

After you close the door, you press your hand against it and take a few breaths, surprised by her apologies.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks, sitting up as he watches you.

Walking back to his side, you lie down and move against him, smiling as you answer, “I’m great.”

Tim holds you close, both of you falling asleep on the same side of the oversized bed. When you wake up the following morning, you chuckle at the sight of it, with one side still made after a night in Tim’s arms.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’ve been in there for a while,” Tim calls, tapping his knuckles against the bathroom door.

“Maybe she was right,” you answer. “I mean, the dress looked great on the mannequin, but…”

“Open the door,” Tim demands.

“No.”

“I will kick it down. You know I can.”

You pull the door open before he can do anything, and Tim’s eyes widen when he sees you.

“You look…”

“I know.”

“Perfect.”

Furrowing your brows, you look down at the dress.

“How do you feel?” Tim asks. “In the outfit, in general?”

“I feel good, really good.”

“Well, you look even better. Don’t let whatever someone said make you think otherwise. And I was right.”

“About?”

“You’re gonna look better than the bride.”

Tim’s smile, accompanied by his kind words, makes you smile, wrapping your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly. Your relationship with him has changed this weekend, and you’re still giddy because you can tell him you love him whenever you want.

“I love you,” you say against his suit.

Tim pulls back quickly, looking into your eyes as he asks you to repeat it. After you do, he smiles and replies, “I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”

“We’re going to be late,” you remind him, narrowly dodging a kiss.

Shaking his head, Tim offers his arm, keeping you close as you walk to the wedding venue entrance. Finding your seats, you sit beside Tim, pulling one of his hands into your lap as you look at him.

“Those bouquets are really bright,” you say.

“Our wedding will be much better,” Tim agrees.

“We’re getting married now?” you ask, smiling.

Tim looks at you from the corner of his eye, shrugging as he says, “Why not?”

“I love you, Tim Bradford.”

“Thank you for letting me be your boyfriend this weekend,” he replies. “I love you.”

“Oh, you’re going to be my boyfriend for a lot longer than this weekend.”

“And after that?” Tim asks, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“That part is up to you, I think.”

You stand, keeping your hand in Tim’s as the wedding procession begins.

“Then, yes, we’re getting married,” Tim whispers. “But it will be perfect.”

Keeping your attention on one another throughout the ceremony, you fall in love with Tim again. After the bride and groom walk down the aisle together, you pull the paper clip ring from your dress pocket. Tim stands, and when he turns to you, you raise it.

“Tim Bradford, will you be my boyfriend?”

Tim chuckles, pulling you up to kiss you before you slide the ring onto his finger. He had nearly forgotten about giving it to you before leaving the station but seeing it on his finger makes him even more eager to marry you someday.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x you #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader

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incrediblyaccuratethoughts · 1 year

Text

I’m Gonna Tell ‘Em (Don’t you Dare)

Ao3

Tim just wanted coffee. That’s really all he desired in life. Coffee. His position as Red Robin. And Wayne Industries to get its shit together for one goddamn day. In that order.

“Are you shitting me? I was a fucking crime lord you little terror, I don’t give a fuck-”

He’d done an all-nighter in the Batcave. Again. Trying to crack a cold case he was sure had something to do with Riddler's vague warning a few nights ago. And he was so close, but his eyes had started to close for just a little too long.

So tell him why he walked into an argument that seemed to be based around the topic of murder, at 7 in the morning. Between Jason and Damian. Who both tried to kill him at least once. Respectively.

“And I am the Demon Prodigy of the League of Assassins. I could kill a man before I could speak.”

Tim stands in the doorway, contemplating if his need for coffee is higher than his potential rate of getting maimed in the dining room.

“Yeah, but you were fucking sheltered inside the bases like goddamn Rapunzel in her-”

“I was not sheltered. You of all people should know of Mother’s harshness for disobedience-“

“Oh and I’m sure you were so disobedient Mr. Goody Two Shoes-“

Ultimately, the urge for coffee wins. Tim crosses the kitchen as unnoticeably as he can, skirting the edges and keeping his footsteps as light as he can manage on 10 hours of sleep in the last week.

He’s busy, okay?

“I’ll admit I wasn’t raised to go against the orders of a higher-up but that did not mean-”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.”

“Did my propensity for sneaking animals into the house escaped your notice? I thought you were better trained-“

“So what? You save every bird with a broken wing you come across, but you’d willingly slit the throat of a human?”

“Yes, Todd. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

The coffee pot is half full. Tim counts this as the one redeeming factor of this morning. The threat of getting stabbed is nothing in the face of sweet, sweet caffeine.

“What’s your fucking number then?”

“I can’t possibly know the exact-“

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that shit on me-“

Tim considers pouring himself a cup, but he’s gonna drink the whole thing anyway and he’s exhausted enough to zone out during Alfred’s inevitable lecture, so he takes the whole pot and tips it back.

“I was sent out for missions when I was barely more than a toddler. You can’t expect me to remember every-“

“Ra’s had files on every fucking mission I did while brain dead and high on Lazarus rage, there’s no fucking way he didn’t have an exact-“

Tim chugs his precious coffee. The temperature is surprisingly cool enough that he doesn't immediately burn his tongue. Not that a few scorched taste buds would stop Tim from inhaling the only thing between him and unconscious. But it’s the thought that counts.

“What’s yours then, Todd?”

“Nope. Not until you tell me yours first. I’m not about to have you raise the number because I told you mine.”

“That’s preposterous. I would do no such thing.”

Tim calculates his chances of making it back out of the kitchen with a quarter pot of coffee in his hands and decides his caffeine fix is safer off with a few counters between him and his homicidal brothers.

And yah know. His physical well-being. But that’s pretty low on his ‘fucks to give list’ at the moment.

“I don’t trust a fucking word coming out of your mouth-“

“There’s an easy way to settle this if you’d just-“

“What? Shut up? Drop the argument? No fucking-“

“We can write it down separately and then show it to each other at the same time."

“…huh.”

Tim looks up in genuine fear when both of his siblings go quiet. That’s never a good sign. Not in this house.

There’s a window to his right that he could probably smash through if it came to it.

Neither of them are looking at him though, just regarding each other with much less animosity than a few seconds ago. Tim decides he’s probably fine and goes back to his coffee.

“I will go retrieve a piece of paper and two pens.”

Damian leaves the room and Tim freezes like if he stays still enough it’ll keep Jason from noticing him. Unfortunately, now that his older brother’s attention is directed to his surroundings and not just screaming at a 12-year-old, he makes direct eye contact with Tim.

“Oh hey, Timmers. How long have you been here?”

Tim stares at him blankly. He- doesn’t know what answer Jason wants from him and he’s not willing to face his older brother’s wrath if he’d been having what he thought was a private conversation.

“Sorry about the noise. I hope we didn’t wake you up.” Jason says after it’s clear that he isn't getting answers out of Tim.

As if the manor isn’t literally soundproofed. For this exact reason.

Tim’s 17 years of social etiquette training won’t let him just not answer the open-ended comment, but god does he wish that it did.

“No, I was already up.”

Jason nods as if he was expecting that answer. Which is fair. Tim’s sure he looks just as tired as he feels. His eye bags could hold all of his emotional trauma. They’re Guchi.

“And does Alfred know you’re drinking straight from the pot?” Jason motions to the carafe Tim’s clutching like a lifeline. Because it is.

Tim opens his mouth to lie through his teeth, but is saved by Damian’s re-entry. Wow, he’s never been so glad to see his stab-happy younger brother.

True to his word, the kid’s carrying a few pieces of paper and pens. Tim could leave now. He could casually walk right past them, out of the kitchen, and back to the cave to keep working on his case, but dammit, he’s invested now.

He’s still not sure what this argument is about exactly, but he’s willing to wait a few more minutes to satiate his curiosity now that he’s tentatively sure that the argument isn’t going to evolve into physical violence.

“I’ve acquired the tools to finish this once and for all, Todd.” Damian announces, sliding half of his spoils to Jason.

“Great. We’ll write our body count down and on 3 we’ll turn ‘em around. Got it?”

“Don’t tell me what to do” Damian grumbles, but writes dutifully anyway. The kid would be funny if he didn’t back his threats up with swords.

Tim is. Still lost, but he’s always secretly wondered how many people his brothers have killed. In a morbid way. Mostly because he wants to know if the murder attempts on him were a particularly special event or just a pattern. For his mental health's sake.

“Got it?” Jason asks, holding his paper close to his chest so no one can peek. Tim doesn’t know who would, considering he’s the only one in the kitchen that’s not a part of this squabble, but Damian copies the movement and Tim finds himself inching closer, taking the last swig of his coffee.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

They flip the papers around and for a moment the kitchen is quiet.

“FUCK YEAH!” Jason pumps his fist in the air with a whoop. “Ha! Take that, Demon Brat! I’m the Robin with the highest kill count!”

Tim spits out his coffee and coughs violently. It’s partially because he got some in his lungs, but also to cover the incredulous laughter bursting uncontrollably out of him. It takes him a good few seconds to get his breathing under control, but when he looks up, his brothers are staring at him.

For a moment he’s tempted. So fucking tempted. Because he hasn’t told anyone anything more than bits and pieces about his time with the League. Hell, the only reason his family even knows about his little stint playing lap dog for Ra’s, is because he choked out a vague explanation about his missing spleen when he went into sepsis.

They don’t know about the missions he was sent on. The people he sold out. And most importantly, the multiple bases he blew up because he was crazier than the Joker after Bart and Kon’s death and then the near miss with Bruce.

The bases he absolutely didn’t evacuate. With hundreds of people inside. A few actually avalanched down mountainsides, and he’d eat his Batarang if any of them survived.

The only word he’d confidently use to describe his mental state then, is feral.

He didn’t have to blow them up. He really didn’t. A good few of the bases he’d never actually seen before he snuck in to level the place, but he’d been having a shitty year so naturally, he was going to make sure Ra’s got to have one too.

Not to mention that Tim was as depressed as he’d ever been and wasn’t particularly giving a lot of fucks about if he died during his warpath. He’d already lost a spleen, what were a few more organs?

So this argument? This competition? He finds it objectively fucking hilarious.

Damian and Jason are still staring at him in bewilderment, and for a moment -just a wild moment- he thinks about telling them.

Explaining how he was just. So done. And could only think of one way out, so he systematically hacked into every base he could get his hands on. Stole as many files as he could during his time constraint. And then blew all of them sky-high.

Thought about telling them how on one particularly bad night, gone through every log of the people in those bases. How he hadn’t been ‘sick’ as he claimed the week after he managed to crawl out of his safe house.

He was just too horrified to look anyone in the eye.

It would be funny to watch his family’s expressions go through the five stages of grief and add a few more just for funsies, if they even believed him at all. But no. Tim had his secrets and he was going to take them to the grave.

He grinned at his brothers, patted Jason on the shoulder with a quiet congratulations, and strolled out of the kitchen.

Tim had cases to solve and letting his family assume he wasn’t capable of murder was better for all of them in the long run.

No matter how wrong they were.

👻

In my defense. Writing prompts make the brain noodle go brr. You can blame @coffinbirds and @batcavescolony for these posts.

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