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maxsimagination · 3 months

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𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘄𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀 - 𝘀.𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘆

warnings: none, pure fluff

----

"thankyou so much, i'm sure she'll love it. bye." i clicked the red 'hang up' button on my phone as i finished up my call with nikki webster, the one and only. it was steph's birthday tomorrow and i wanted to surprise her with her favourite song, sung by her favourite artist.

macca, lani and caitlin had suggested we throw a party on the night of her birthday, and we surprise her with something, but it was me that thought of flying down nikki to perform.

the whole team thought it was a great idea, and they each pitched in to help set up the party, and make sure steph didn't find out. i even had tony make sure we were allowed to hold the gathering in the huge 'lounge' we had at the matilda's training complex. of course he'd said yes and and made sure there was speakers and a mic for nikki to sing with.

i was snapped out of my daydream when steph walked in and slid her arms around my waist. “hey babe, whatcha up to?” i turn to her with a smile.

"nothing." my voice is laced with cheekiness and steph can tell something's up. "you sound like your up to something, what have you done?" her tone was light enough for it to be a joke but part of her was slightly scared, i'm known to be impulsive and not think things through.

"i swear i haven't done anything, stephy." again with the sickly sweet smile. she decided to drop it for know, but her gut knew that i was up to something. it's a sixth sense she gets when she's with me.

——

the next day rolled around; steph's 29th birthday. i was the first one awake, like an excited little kid even though it wasn't even my birthday. i slipped out of the bed we shared and tiptoed down to the kitchen to start making some breakfast for my girl. my phone was on the kitchen counter, some light music flowing from the small speakers as i danced around, whipping up some pancakes.

it didn't take me long and i was soon pouring the batter into little circles in the frying pan. i had two plates on a tray, ready to be brought up to steph in our room. finally i had all the pancakes dishes up, grabbed the bottle of golden syrup that i knew steph would use, the utensils and the tray and headed to the sleeping beauty still in bed.

she was in fact, still in bed, and i slipped down next to her, putting the tray on my bedside table. "steph, wake up. i made you breakfast." it must have been the smell of the pancakes that woke her because she always sleeps through alarms. "mmm, mornin' babe, something smells good."

i chuckled at her and brought the tray to rest in front of us. "happy birthday." i pressed a kiss to her forehead and she sat up to eat with me. "don't remind me how old i am." she grinned at me and we started eating.

"stephanie-elise catley, you better be dressed! we have to go to training." i shouted out to my girlfriend who was probably still lying in bed. we had both finished eating almost a half hour ago and i had taken everything to the kitchen to get cleaned up. now i was dressed and ready to walk out the door but steph was nowhere to be seen or heard.

"i'm coming i'm coming!" there was a faint shout back and some small stomps from the room, you could tell she forgot we had training and was now hopping about the room trying to get dressed quickly.

i just laughed to my self as she finally hurtled down the stairs with her shoes in one hand and phone in the other. "okay, i'm here. let's go." she grinned proudly at me, it was the quickest she'd gotten dressed before. "alright, alright tiger. put your shoes on and we'll go." it was times like these that really made me fall in love more. i grabbed the car keys and we both went out to the car, heading to training.

——

i was absolutely shattered after that session. tony had us running hard, fine tuning everything we could for the world cup. the rest of the team was currently in the change rooms, i was outside with sam. someone had to keep steph distracted, and then get her back here for the party. "okay, so i'll take care of steph, we just need to set up the room inside before nikki gets here."

i was slightly stressing and sam could tell "hey, y/n, chill. i got everything covered. you said that party's at 5, nikki at 5:30?"

i took a deep breath and sighed. "yea, thanks so much sam. i just want it to be perfect for her." we finished the details of our plan and headed to get changed. once both me and steph were done, we headed to the car, me sending a discreet nod to sam and macca one our way out. they were the like the co-captains of steph's secret birthday celebration.

it was almost impossible for me to hard the jitters i had about my surprise for steph. it was now the afternoon and i had to get both of us ready and back out for the party. "hey, stephy! c'mere." she poked her head out from wherever she was hiding. "yea what's up?" "i'm taking you out for your birthday, you have to go and get ready." her face softened with a smile.

"you don't have to do that, y/n. i'm happy to just stay in with you." "but i want to. c'mon, pretty please?" i attempt my best version of puppy eyes and she instantly folded.

"okay, okay. anything for you, love." she left with a smile and got changed. i had already changed into my clothes, and soon so was steph. we went on our way and when we got close i told her to cover her eyes. with much protesting, she reluctantly covered her eyes with her hand for the rest of the ride. i pulled into the matilda's complex for the second time that day, turning the vehicle off.

"hold on, i'll come get you." i raced around the side to get steph. she slowly hopped out, eyes still covered. i walked her inside and made sure she wasn't peeking.

"okay, 3, 2, 1, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" i opened the door to the room and the team yelled out at us from the other side. steph immediately opened her eyes and grinned at what she saw. "oh, this is so cute, thankyou y/n!" she turned to hug me and i returned the favour. we started mingling with all our teammates, me heading for sam and mac.

"that was so stressful. i was jittering the whole way here." they laughed at me and we all checked the time, ready for nikki to make an appearance.

speak of the devil, i got a ping on my phone and saw it was from nikki. 'pulling in now, see you soon.' i snapped into action and told sam to meet nikki out front and mac was in charge of putting on the song. i headed for steph. "we have to dance, come on, mac is putting on music."

she laughed at my antics and followed me to the middle of the floor. her favourite song, strawberry kisses, blasted through the sound system and steph broke into a grin.

'𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦,

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨,

𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴,

𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪'𝘮 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.'

the lyrics were thrown out into the room and everyone joined in. it was the teams' song, they loved listening to it.

'𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦,

𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦,

𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳,

𝘰𝘩-𝘰𝘩.'

steph was having a magnificent time, dancing away with me, yelling out the words with the song. the the voice changed, it was still the same song but it was like it was being sung live, in the room.

'𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴,

𝘤𝘶𝘻 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺.

𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴,

𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘦.'

everyone whipped their heads towards the door where nikki webster stood, mic in hand, singing steph's favourite song. the whole room cheered, even sam was clapping and cheering from her place next to the singer. i looked at steph, who was shocked. she had no idea this was happening. "happy birthday, love." she turned to me.

"you did this?" i nodded with a smile. she wrapped me in a tight hug, squeezing me until i couldn't breathe. it was definitely a memorable night, one that ended very late and with tony scolding us that we'd be tired at training the next day. but none of us cared in that moment.

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #steph catley #steph catley x reader #steph catley imagine

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mangoisms · 9 months

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circle k (back to you)

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

━ chapter two: it’s getting late | read chapter one

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.5k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: would be lying if i said this was for tim's birthday tmrw. it was rlly just because the reception to chapter 1 was so lovely and i also did this with my other tim fic—posting chapter 2 early, i mean. but we'll just have to work with this. happy early birthday tim you are annoying and i want to study you under a microscope <3

You expect Red Robin’s appearance to be a one-off thing.

It is not.

Instead, the next day, you get Black Bat.

It jolts you from the phone call you’re having.

“—understand the temptation to tell them to screw off but I really don’t want to get… shot…”

You trail off, watching, wide-eyed as your newest vigilante customer steps into Circle K.

Black Bat cuts an imposing figure, her suit made up mostly of inky black material, with a few accents of gold, the Bat symbol on her chest standing out the most. Her black cape flutters behind her, moving like a shadow. She looks the most like Batman, you think, with the cowl and the pointed ears. Except the eyes of the mask are black and the bottom of her face is completely covered—stitched closed. Considerably more creepy, you think, goosebumps breaking out over your skin. Though that could be the fan you have on, fluttering your hair as it makes a slow rotation.

“Hey, did you die or something?”

“No,” you mutter, watching, your heart starting to pick up as Black Bat comes up to the counter.

You aren’t sure what you expect, but it’s not—

“Do you have Red Bull?” Her voice is low and melodic. Not befitting of her… general aura.

Wordlessly, you point to the refrigerators at the back.

“Thanks,” she says, then she turns and walks away. You can only see the top of her head and the pointed ears of her cowl. A second later, you hear the suction-y sound of the refrigerator door being opened.

A voice calls your name from the other end of the line.

Your best friend, Stephanie Brown, who gave you a call to see how your summer break has been treating you.

“Sorry,” you say, clearing your throat. “Just got distracted by something outside.”

“Something outside? That’s not reassuring. At all.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Like I was saying, I’m not gonna tell them that. It’s tempting but like I said, I don’t want to get arrested or some shit.”

“The charges wouldn’t even hold. It’s a free country. I can tell a cop to fuck off if I want to. That’s my god-given right.”

“I appreciate the spirit, but I don’t think the GCPD would agree with you.”

“Well, the GCPD can kiss my ass.”

“You and me both, Stephie. You and me both. So, how’s, uh, Metropolis?”

“Metropolis is Metropolis. Brainiac nearly took control of the city yesterday but what’s new? Mom’s having a good time, though. Even if things are way overpriced over here. I mean, seriously. Eight bucks for a cup of coffee at this place we went to today. They’re crazy.”

Steph babbles in your ear for a few more minutes. Long enough for Black Bat to reemerge from the aisle, two cans of Red Bull and a bag of Takis and a pack of sour gummy worms in hand. You wonder who the second person is. Red Robin, maybe?

He’d been odd about the hot chocolates. Odd in general. But that’s what you get with these vigilante types.

No matter. You quickly focus on your current situation, giving Black Bat a small, embarrassed smile and pointing at the phone crammed between your shoulder and ear, mouthing Sorry.

You shouldn’t be doing this on the job and you should’ve told Steph you had to go but quite frankly, you need the assurance of another person with you. Even if said person can’t do anything and is across the harbor in Metropolis on a mini-vacation with her mom.

Black Bat shouldn’t give you trouble about it. You hope. She just scares you a little more than Red Robin. Which is silly because he’s a guy and probably more potentially dangerous but. You know. Her suit is just… too similar to Batman’s, and he’s the one who scares you the most.

Still, Black Bat just shrugs and waves a hand. “It’s fine.”

You nod your thanks, then scan everything and bag it. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill from her utility belt and you give her the change, which she promptly puts in the tip jar. A kind gesture, really, considering the twenty is a bit of an overshoot for her total, leaving you with a nice tip.

You guess that if anything else, at least it’s nice that these vigilantes tip.

After dropping the receipt into the bag, she takes it and waves at you.

Mystified, you wave back.

Then she steps out, cape fluttering behind her.

“Anyway,” Steph says on the other end as you focus on her voice again. “It’s pretty fun but I miss home. Can’t wait to be back in the city. We’re hanging out as soon as I do, by the way. How are things with you?”

Oh, you can’t keep it in. You have to tell her.

“I saw the Flash two days ago.”

But she misunderstands.

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “I saw that in the news. ‘Cause of Trickster, right? Bet Batman wasn’t happy about that.”

“No,” you say. “I’m saying I saw him. Here. At Circle K. He dropped in to grab a bite to eat. I know you and Tim absolutely refuse to believe me when I say he visited me and that we’re friends—which, by the way, he totally reaffirmed when I saw him—but he was here.”

“We’re jealous, that’s all,” she says. “Just don’t want you running off with the Flash thinking he’s cooler than we are. Which, to be clear, he isn’t. Not me, anyway. Tim is up for debate.”

“Well, you’re about to be a little more jealous.”

“And why is that?”

“Because since he visited, weird shit has started happening.”

“Weird shit is always happening in Gotham. What is so special about this weird shit in particular?”

“Oh, he said something stupid to Red Robin—Red Robin came in a little while after he did, I guess they were working together to track down Trickster—anyway, he was talking about how I’m… scared of the Bats—”

“Are you scared of the Bats?”

You throw up a hand, though she can’t see it. “I have a healthy amount of fear and respect for them—and on that note, please don’t tell anyone else I’m telling you this.”

“Of course.”

“Right, well, Flash was just ragging him, you know? About how he has a better relationship with me, someone who doesn’t even live in Keystone or Central, than the Bats do.”

“So?”

“So,” you blow out a big breath, “Red Robin showed up yesterday to get some hot chocolate—”

“Hot chocolate?” Steph asks, disbelieving.

“Yeah. He said it was a better alternative to coffee. Guess he’s not into energy drinks. Weirdo. The whole thing about it—weird. Like… I don’t know. He was just acting weird when he was asking if we had any.”

“… That is weird,” she says, an odd note to her voice. She clears her throat. “And then?”

“I knew why he was doing it so I told him he didn’t have to come around ‘cause he and the others obviously need to uphold a specific perception, right? Then he was all, Well, what does a civilian like you know about it? Can you believe they unironically call us that?”

Steph laughs. She laughs hard.

You wait it out, not entirely sure what or why she is laughing so hard but it’s not the first time she’s ever done that, so you can just let it go.

“Okay,” she giggles. “Sorry. Keep going. What else happened?”

“He left. But then, y’wanna guess who just showed up right now?”

“Who? Batman?”

“God, no. It was Black Bat. She was nice enough. Gave me a big tip. Creepy suit, though.”

“What’d she’d get?”

“Two Red Bulls, a bag of Takis and a pack of sour gummy worms. Wonder who that second Red Bull is for. And the snacks. Red Robin realizing hot chocolate in June is weird? Hard to imagine him eating Takis, though. He’s probably like Tim, saying they’re ‘too hot’.”

Steph laughs again for a while.

“Oh, god, you’re killing me,” she gasps out when she calms.

You shake your head, rubbing your finger over a scratch mark in the counter. “I don’t know what is so funny but sure.”

“So, then, what? You think you’re just gonna some more vigilantes? ‘Cause it’s only been two so far.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you grumble. “But it’s two. When previously, this has never happened.”

“True! Well… any preferences? For who comes next?”

“Anyone but Batman, thanks.”

Your next visitor is not Batman.

It is, in a turn of events that makes a little more sense, the Signal.

A few days after your call with Steph, things are fine, until your manager posts to the team group chat about wanting someone for an afternoon shift, saying someone quit unexpectedly. Not one to say no to some extra cash, you latch onto the opportunity—even if it’s an admittedly questionable idea. You try not to work weekends to let yourself recuperate from sustaining your not-so-great sleep schedule.

Anyway, you feel and look like a zombie, but you get your work done.

“I can help the next person in line,” you call.

A tall, broad-shouldered stocky older man with long blonde hair and blue eyes behind coke-bottle glasses steps up, armed with two large cups of coffee. The scrubs he wears clues you into some kind of healthcare position.

“Hi, did you find everything—”

The door opens, your eyes automatically flickering to the movement, and your voice cuts out sharply as you realize who it is.

The Signal stands there a bit awkwardly for a moment as all of you look—the blonde man at the counter and the other man waiting in line.

“Hey, you!”

You flinch, tensing, already fearing a confrontation as the other man steps forward, pointing at the Signal. The one in question tenses, shoulders rising, like he’s preparing to fight. You hope not. That would be a lot of paperwork for you. It’s the manager’s, technically, to report any damage done by vigilantes, but they always give it to you or the other employees on the floor.

But it is not as you feared. Instead of picking a fight, the man… thanks him?

“You’re the Signal, right? Right? You saved my son a few months ago from some muggers following him home from school. Thank you, man. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough. He wouldn’t be here with me if it weren’t for you,” the man says, holding out a hand.

“Hey, man,” Signal says, reaching out to shake his hand. “It was nothing. I’m glad I was there to help.”

“Are you here to buy something? Let me cover you. Please. It’s the least I can do—”

“Oh, you really don’t need to—”

“That went better than expected.”

The soft-spoken voice brings you out of your thoughts and you belatedly realize you still have a customer to take care of. But when you look at him, he is watching the Signal try to tell the other man that he doesn’t have to pay for him, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” you say. “Good thing. Signal’s a good guy.”

He turns back to you as you scan the cups of coffee, pulling out a wallet.

“He is,” he agrees easily—meaning his words, too, a genuine conviction you don’t hear often associated with the vigilantes of the city.

Signal manages to hold firm on not needing the man to pay, repeating that he was just doing his job, and thankfully, the man accepts it with good graces.

You quickly get your current customer wrapped up while the Signal steps into the chip aisle.

You pass him the receipt. “Thank you, have a good day.”

He sends you a small, handsome smile, picking up the cups of coffee. “Thank you, you, too.”

The one after him steps up to pay, talking jovially with you, spirits still apparently lifted at seeing Signal and being able to thank him. It’s a nice moment, you think, and you make sure to respond in kind.

The door swings shut behind him just as Signal re-emerges from the chip aisle, holding a can of Monster Energy and a bag of chile picante Cornnuts. The combination is… surely something. You let yourself slip with it, too, because you’ve personally heard a lot of good things about him. The fact that he works during the day helps his case, too.

“I need the energy,” Signal says, seeing that thought in your face; he doesn’t sound mad, though, just vaguely amused. His suit is filled with more yellow tones, still intimidating but not as much in the daylight, a helmet of sorts leaving only his mouth exposed.

“It’ll definitely give you… something,” you say, chuckling as you scan both.

He pats his stomach. “I have guts of steel. Don’t worry about it.”

“Not a problem as long as I never have to hear ‘guts of steel’ ever again. Jesus. Is that just a natural thing of your biology or is it evolutionary-based?”

“This life isn’t for the faint of heart or stomach,” he agrees, passing you a five dollar bill. “Adaptation is key.”

“I bet.”

Signal laughs, taking his change and dropping it into the tip jar. You smile, too, shaking your head slightly.

“Have a good day.”

He tips his Red Bull at you. “You, too.”

Guts of steel. You nearly can’t believe it.

You pick up your phone, finding your conversation with Tim. You and Steph are hanging out tomorrow, so you’ll tell her about it, then. She asked him, though, and he said he was busy. Too bad. But that doesn’t mean he gets out of being subjected to those words, either.

no joke signal came in to buy a monster energy and cornnuts (a questionable combo) and when he saw me judging he said he has guts of steel

meta related do you think???

makes sense to me. you have a gene inside you that gives you literal powers i think they shouldn’t be having digestive issues/ibs like us common folk do

Your three texts, sent in quick succession, deliver. You bite the inside of your cheek as you see your previous ones still unanswered. It’s been like that for the past few weeks. Not him ignoring you but a bit of a dry spell going on in your messages that was only broken when you told Steph what happened and decided you had to tell him, too.

It’s not his fault. The dry spell from before or the lack of responses going on now.

You started the first thing. So, it’s more your fault than anything for all of that. Steph’s talked to him, though, and she’s never let up on anything amiss…

You groan quietly, dropping your phone on the counter and burying your face in your hands.

Too complicated. Too much.

It never used to be like that but… things changed recently.

You, mostly.

You met Stephanie Brown your second semester at Gotham University.

Taking your required elective, you chose Intro to Psych. She was doing the same. Though, being a social work major, psychology was practically a cousin to it.

The professor for the class turned out to be a total dud. Rambled during lecture, refused to give out study guides, and while he would give out hints as to what material might show up on exams, his questions were trick ones. When people complained, he said some crap about being in a higher ed setting and needing to do better because of it. Like his class was some 300 or 400 level course and not a literal intro course to a large and burgeoning field of study.

But classes are expensive, so, you couldn’t drop it. Refused to, really, knowing you would face much more difficult classes later on, ones you knew you might need to drop and try again. So, you weren’t going to waste the money on this type of class.

Steph was of the same thought.

She sat next to you in the lecture hall. You two didn’t talk until after the first exam and everyone was upset about their grades, the exams having been handed back at the end of class. Your shared frustration brought you together, mostly as you two were ranting about it, you packed up and wound up leaving class together, the both of you just too caught up in your anger to realize you both needed to go in opposite directions for your next class.

You initially agreed to be study partners, to cover more ground that way. But Steph managed to worm her way to your heart by the end of that semester.

Your astounding lack of friends helped, too. Even if things had been that way since your junior year of high school, even if you wanted things to remain that way to protect what little remained of your heart, the loneliness hit you harder than you thought it would when you started college.

And Steph was nice and funny and listened to you and paid attention to you and you… were so very deprived of those things, so it was nice in the beginning, but then you realized, to your own horror, that you actually wanted her to stick her around, that just as she knew nearly everything about you by the end of the semester, you knew nearly everything about her, too, and you wanted to know more, wanted to be there for her like she always was for you.

You have that and more now and you are so very lucky because of it.

Tim, though?

Tim was something else.

Steph told you she had a friend visiting.

Just that—that she had a friend visiting campus and she ‘hoped he could find his way to the computer workstation on the fourth floor because as soon as I sit down, I’m not leaving for anything other than to use the bathroom or some kind of world-ending event.’

It was a particularly grueling paper she had to churn out—twenty pages, heavily research-based with the kind of statistics that made your head spin.

Working at the front desk of the Martha Kane Library at the time, you humored her. Told her good luck and that you’d keep an eye out. The second part was a joke, of course, because she never said who was visiting her and how could you know if she never said anything?

You and Tim Drake wound up finding each other, anyway.

Well, more like he found you.

It sounds sort of romantic, right?

It’s… well, it’s certainly something.

“I’m just saying,” you’re telling him, totally neglecting your homework and the other duties you have at the front desk (you know this last part is especially true by the way your coworker, also at the front desk, is side-eyeing you but come on, there’s no one in line, so it’s fine!). “It’s a solid movie.”

Tim Drake gives you a comically disbelieving look. “A solid movie? It’s—it’s gaseous.”

“Did… you just make a physics joke? About the three states of matter?”

Tim turns an attractive shade of pink. “It’s four, actually, and, uh… yeah.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Steph is right. You really are a geek. Anyway. Cloverfield still sucks.”

“Your opinion is automatically negated by the fact that you think the Final Destination movies have any kind of substance to them.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that. I just think they’re good ‘cause of Mary Elizabeth Winstead. You probably think the Transformers movies are actually good, don’t you?”

He looks offended. “Don’t insult me. We hate Michael Bay in this house.”

“Sure.”

“But I do think Bumblebee—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Bumblebee is good for a change, we all know it. You’re probably one of those Nolan stans, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think any of what you just said are real words.”

“Oh, they’re real alright. Nolan stans are constantly on his dick, they’re all like, ‘Nolan is so deep and thoughtful and there is no one else like him.’ Wrong. I could find ten of him in the movie industry.”

Tim narrows his eyes accusingly at you. “Steph said Interstellar is your favorite movie.”

“It’s his only good movie.”

“Don’t count out Inception like that.”

“Never seen it.”

“Wow.”

“You know what you sounded like just now? A Nolan stan.”

Tim actually grins at you and your stomach flutters at the sight of it. It’s that that had drawn your eyes to him. The cute but confused looking guy loitering around nearby, systematically checking his phone and glancing around—presumably for a map of the confusing and ancient library. With dark hair, pale skin, and pretty blue eyes that make you feel unbearably seen, Tim Drake is a sight for sore eyes. Your eyes, to be certain.

Of course, you also know he’s here for Steph. That he is the friend she spoke of. And also the ex-boyfriend. That reminder sobers you considerably.

Kind of funny, really.

Much can be said about Tim Drake.

The adoptive son of Bruce Wayne. The kid who snuck into No Man’s Land on a dare and had to be extracted by the US military after his father made a fuss about it. Then later, became controlling shareholder at Wayne Enterprises for whatever reason, boosting him into a very powerful position. Then he got engaged. Then he was shot—he was meant to be killed but obviously, it hadn’t gone that way. All this at seventeen.

But eventually it petered out. He stepped down. Engagement broke off. He recovered. Now? He does some work for WE. That’s all that’s known to the press, anyway.

It’s like you said. Much can be said about Tim Drake.

But most of your impression is from Steph. He plays Warlocks and Warriors sometimes. Is a bit of a computer geek and has built his own PC for gaming. Hits the skatepark every now and then. Likes to spend time tinkering on his car. And… has strong opinions on movies.

Above it all?

He is her ex. A good friend now! But still. That fact remains.

“Anyway,” you say, adjusting your notebook, textbook, and bag of pens just to do something. “You’re here for Steph, right?”

“She told you?”

“Well, she’s obviously told you stuff about me.”

“Steph won’t shut up about you,” he says, seeming more amused than annoyed by that fact. “I can’t imagine it’s the same with me.”

“I know enough.” Like the fact that he is her literal ex-boyfriend. Even if Steph says their relationship wasn’t the greatest, had some very questionable decisions on both their parts, and ended a bit dramatically… he’s still the first person she ever fell in love with. She told you that much. “She’s upstairs on the fourth floor. Hit the elevators over there, then when you get to the fourth floor, turn left, then another left, and the computer workstations are on your right. Can’t miss them.”

“You should watch Inception,” he says, instead of acknowledging literally anything you just said.

You arch an eyebrow challengingly. “You should watch Interstellar.”

He taps a finger on the counter. “We should do both. You, me, and Steph one of these days.”

“I hate to say it, but that sounds like a good idea.”

Steph’s voice scares the shit out of you. You bang your knee on the desk, cursing.

Tim looks unruffled as she comes from the side—the direction of the elevators, joining him at the counter and nudging his shoulder as she goes. He nudges back. They keep the contact.

“Sorry, Stephie,” you say. “We got preoccupied.”

“Arguing,” she corrects, but she doesn’t look upset about it. Instead, her cobalt blue eyes twinkle with something you can’t quite identify as she drops her chin into her palm.

“We weren’t arguing,” Tim says next. “We were lightly debating.”

“Of course. My cute little movie geeks. I think Duckboy’s right, though—” Tim groans slightly and mutters her name in annoyance; she ignores it “—we should get together and see them.”

You scratch your cheek. “I don’t know. Finals—”

“—are not for another month. I say let’s do it.” She looks at Tim and jabs a thumb at you. “She needs more friends.”

“Stephanie, please.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Timothy needs more friends, too. Friends from, say, the other half.” She smiles mischievously, a joke known only by the two of them.

Tim, for his part, rolls his eyes but says nothing in protest.

You don’t need more friends. More friends is actually a very bad idea. Letting one person get close was bad enough. Another person? Hell, no…

But the look on Steph’s face tells you that you, quite frankly, have no say in the matter. And the way you and Tim ‘lightly debated’ movies for a solid half hour tells you, too, that it’ll be too easy for you and he to become friends.

You decide to shelve the issue for now as Steph tugs him away, promising you that she’ll arrange for things.

Maybe it won’t pan out. Maybe he’s actually horribly arrogant and conceited. (Though, if he’s friends with Steph, the likelihood of that is admittedly low.)

You don’t know. All you know is it’s dangerous to let yourself get close to someone else.

But that’s all rather dramatic, isn’t it?

And it didn’t turn out how you wanted—you met Tim in the first semester of your sophomore year; your junior year just ended this May. You’ve been friends with him for a year and half. Steph for two. No end appears to be in sight. But you’ve compartmentalized. It’s just two people. That’s fine.

It’s totally fine.

Even if it’s two people to match the two others you lost when you were fifteen. Like a repayment for the pain.

(Or a way to double it.)

But you lost your parents in the earthquake.

Scientists called that a once-in-a-lifetime event.

There are plenty of things going on in this city that could cost your friends their lives but… it’ll never be as devastating as the earthquake.

The earthquake where you nearly died after a piece of metal pierced your thigh, barely missing your femoral artery, and you spent the entire time from after the earthquake, when they dug your body out of the rubble, and to when they decided to exile the city, in a coma from the infection.

By the time you stabilized, you were on a helicopter to Blüdhaven, the rest of the city in a panic to leave, and your parents were officially gone by that point.

They couldn’t even find their bodies in time.

It took almost three years before they did. The year in which the government turned a blind eye to the city and cast it away, then another two years to rebuild, to sift through the ruin and destruction, to find the bones of the ones left behind since they were decomposed by then, and identifying them was an even more arduous task.

You only managed to receive the catharsis of burying them when you turned eighteen.

You might tempt fate by saying this but even if you lost either of them, the fallout would never beat that. A blessing, in that way.

But even you hate to consider the possibilities of them leaving you. For anything.

They won’t.

Everything will be fine.

It has to be.

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#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n

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noellawrites · 2 months

Text

“Blissful” Marriage - yandere!Billy Andrews x fem!reader

summary: your husband Billy has a surprise for your fifth wedding anniversary, but it’s not what you might think

warnings: arranged marriage mention, abusive relationship, Billy being an asshole obviously

As soon as you woke up next to your sleeping husband, you were hit with the brutal realization that today was somehow significant. As you took a deep breath, you tried to remember. It wasn't a holiday, nor was it either of your children's birthdays.

You pondered it as you prepared breakfast for your family in the quiet kitchen. The sun rose around you as you buttered toast and scrambled the eggs. Then all of a sudden, you dropped your knife with a clatter.

It was you and Billy's wedding anniversary.

It had been five years since your father handed you over to Billy Andrews, neither of you even eighteen years old when the wedding occurred.

You loved your children more than anything, but sometimes Billy felt like your third child. He had cooled down from his teenage years now with both of you in your early twenties, thankfully.

"Breakfast ready yet?" Billy asked from behind you. You hadn't even heard him come down the stairs.

You turned around, "almost, sorry."

"Hurry up, I'm hungry and the kids will be up soon," Billy sneered, grabbing the plate of bacon and taking it to the table.

Your husband sat and stared as you tried to set the table quickly. You could hear son and daughter stirring in their rooms upstairs, and you'd have to carry your daughter with you as she was only two.

"Can you finish bringing the food over, Billy? I have to get Steph," you said hurriedly.

"Isn't that your job?" he groaned.

"Billy—“

"It's my wedding anniversary, I'm not doing any work," he stated, leaving no room for discussion.

You trudged up the stairs, each step feeling more difficult than the last. You were pregnant again, around four months in. You pitied the next poor child who would suffer at the hands of Billy Andrews being their father.

"Stephie, c'mere. Mama's got you," you cooed as you lifted your little girl out of her crib.

"Mama!" she giggled, her sweet little voice bringing a smile to your face.

You heard your son, William Junior, run down the stairs ahead of you, ready to greet his father. Billy was your son's favorite person, which scared you more than anything. You didn't want to raise a mini Billy, yet he'd insisted on naming his firstborn son after him anyway.

The four of you sat down at the table, Billy pulling you down onto the bench next to him and kissing you harshly on the mouth.

"Mommy, daddy, eww!" William laughed, with Stephanie's giggle following close behind.

"You kids are going over to Aunt Priscilla's today to play with your cousins," Billy stated, placing his hand on your thigh underneath the table.

"But dad, why?" William whined, slamming his fork on the table next to his plate.

"It's your mother and I's anniversary and I have something special planned," he said, fingers inching towards your undergarments.

You were scared, but slightly aroused. Billy, though not husband of the year, was pretty good in bed. He was always more concerned with his own pleasure, but you enjoyed being close to him, making him happy. It made you feel like a good wife.

—

Billy shut the door behind his sister as she left with your kids in tow, ready to spend a fun day with their cousins.

"So, what do you have planned?" you ask, turning and smiling to your husband. He dropped his arm from around your waist and looked at you with a hardened expression.

"Get on the ground."

"Billy, what—“

"YOU HEARD ME!" he yelled, pointing his finger directly at your face.

Wordlessly, you bent down onto the floor. Your husband threw a wet, vinegary sponge at you and crossed his hands across his chest.

"These floors are disgusting and you have no excuses. The bathrooms will be next. On my anniversary of suffering through marriage with you, I at least deserve to have a clean home," Billy growled.

You looked down. It hadn't even been a full week since you did the floors, and you felt nauseous after your descent to the floor, but you blinked back your tears and went to work anyway.

You crawled around like that for hours, dodging Billy's criticisms and suffering your way through your fifth wedding anniversary.

All of a sudden, you stood up and stomped over to where your husband sat in his study.

"Billy, what did I do wrong? I know our other anniversaries hadn't been much but... at least it seemed like you'd cared for me," you frown.

"I've been too nice to you lately and I need to put you back in your place. You are my wife and therefore my property," he declared.

"Billy, I raise your kids, take care of your home and do nothing but love you," you sniffle, almost pleading with him.

"I have grown tired of you. Get out of my sight," he stated simply.

You looked into his blue eyes and saw nothing, no traces of guilt or any feelings beyond anger.

Without another word, you turned around and headed outside, going straight to your garden. You at least wanted to bring some pretty flowers into your home on your anniversary, if nothing else.

You tried not to think of that dreadful day when your freedom and innocence was stolen away five years ago, but it lingered in your mind.

#awae x reader #anne with an e x reader #anne with an e imagine #billy andrews x reader #billy andrews imagine #yandere awae x reader #dark awae x reader

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