#Dick was there because he needs to make sure Tim sleeps at least a little bit

[clockwayswrites]

Tim Jr., Coffee Machine Extraordinaire

WC: 2314

Dick worried his lip between his teeth as he looked Tim over. His little brother was standing, zombie-like, in front of the Cave’s coffee machine.

Not that it was unusual.

Just the thing was, Tim had been doing better. His dark circles had been fading, his snippy moments less often, his focus better, and he’d even been putting on some much needed weight. Dick had been so proud (as had Alfred and Bruce). But now the circles were darkening again and Tim was staring at the coffee machine like he used to— like it was his only salvation.

Jason stepped up to Dick’s side, joining him in the bird watching.

“Hey Timbit,” Jason said, breaking the silence of the moment. Trust Jason to get down to it.

“Hum?”

“What happened to your hand?”

Tim blinked down at his gauze wrapped hand as if he had forgotten about the injury. Not a good sign with Tim. Dick was betting on over 48 hours without proper sleep at this point.

“Oh.” Tim said, the exclamation was emotionless. “Tim Junior bit me.”

Dick and Jason exchanged looks. Who now?

“Um, did you get a pet, baby bird?” Dick gently asked.

“Hum?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Who’s Tim Junior, Timberino.”

“Oh.” Tim said. The brothers waited impatiently for Tim’s brain to roll over. “My coffee maker. Little brat refused to make me any…”

“Okay, yep, alright. No patrol for you tonight Timtam,” Jason said with a clap of his hands.

“Wait, what? No. Just let me get some coffee and I’ll be ready to go,” Tim whined.

“I think Jason’s right, Tim,” Dick said, stepping up to gently guide his brother away from the coffee machine.

Tim looked back over his shoulder at the machine as they walked away. Dick could practically see Jason building a plan as he lead them over to the vehicle area.

“We’ll go back to your Nest, Timbuktu. We can keep an eye on the ops from there while the rest of the idiots have to run around in this damn cold. Bet it’s going to sleet later,” Jason said gleefully.

“I see how it is, you just want to be warm. Sure you aren’t just faking those broken ribs to get some extra time off?” Dick asked, playing into the show of it. They just had to keep Tim distracted until Jason had him bundled back up in his apartment.

“Oh no. You’ve found me out,” Jason deadpanned as he tossed Tim his helmet. At least Bat reflexes were still in play and Tim caught the helmet without even looking at it.

“I knew it!” Dick cried, dodging Tim’s smacks as he doubled checked that the helmet was secure. “That’s it. I’m crashing your Nest Party after patrol so you better save me some food.”

“What makes you think there will be food?” Jason asked. His words were tough, but Dick watched him tug Tim’s arms until the other gripped him tightly. Baby bird was in good hands.

“Jaybird,” Dick said, “it’s you, of course there’s going to be food.”

Jason’s short was almost lost over the sound of the motorcycle starting. Dick waved enthusiastically as the bike sped out of the cave before he let his hand and smile both drop.

He really hoped that Tim just needed some sleep.

-

Dick landed silently onto the balcony. The lights were on low inside, changing subtly enough that Dick could tell the T.V. must be on. He found the hidden panel to flip up and enter his codes for the door’s locks to hiss open.

Jason was watching him from over the couch and even without seeing it, Dick could tell when Jason’s fingers relaxed around the gun he must had been holding. He raised a finger to his lips, and Dick gave a little nod back.

Dick slunk silently over to the couch, bracing his arms on the back right next to Jason’s head. He had to hold back a coo at the sight of Tim curled up under a fluffy green blanket with his head pillowed against Jason’s thigh. Jason must have known how close Dick was to making a noise because he smacked his hand into Dick’s face.

Hands raised, Dick backed away with a silent laugh. After rinsing off quickly in the shower he dug out some sweats from ‘his’ drawer in the guest bedroom. Tim might act like he never wanted them in his space, but he still kept a drawer for each of them stocked with civilian clothing and relaxing wear. And Dick knew his favorite cereal was stocked in the pantry too. Stomach rumbling, Dick padded back out to the open living space.

Jason must have pulled an Indiana Jones and slipped out from under Tim because he was in the kitchen making up a plate of left overs for Dick. Dick bounded over to peer into the boxes. “Ooh, Thai.”

He skipped back a step as Jason smacked at his hand with the serving spoon.

“How long has he been out?”

“Not long after eating. Food got here right after us, so most of the night,” Jason said, his words a low rumble in his efforts to stay quiet.

“Just tired then?” Dick asked, still hoping that was all it was.

Jason’s frown didn’t reassure him.

“What?”

“Sleep was restless for hours. He kept… dun know. Searching for something,” Jason said with a little shrug. “Not nightmares but not easy rest.”

Dick sighed and leaned back against the counter. He chewed idly on his thumb, wondering what was bothering their baby bird. “New cases?”

“Not from me. Wrapped the last one up last week and B’s out of town.”

“Damian wouldn’t ask. Steph is busy with the girls. And there’s nothing from me. Something made him take a turn.”

Jason just hummed and popped the plate into the microwave. Dick was never sure if Jason knew how much the noise sounded like one Batman would make. He never risked mentioning it. Dick glanced over at his brother and then past him as the shiny red caught his eye. “That it?”

“What?”

Dick jutted his chin at the coffee maker. “Tim Junior”

“…guess it is. Odd looking machine, aint it? Think he messed with it?”

“Someone had to,” Dick said, moving around Jason. The coffee machine did have a distinctly home brewed look to it. None of the knobs matched and the one panel was a slightly different shade of red like it had been spray painted to match.

“Freak’n mad scientist,” Jason groused as he stopped the microwave before it could beep.

“More engineering then he normally does,” Dick murmured. He reached out to flip the top of the machine open. It felt like solid work… the lid snapped back down with a clack.

“Shh.”

“…it wasn’t me. The machine moved.”

“Shut it, dickface.”

“I’m not kidding,” Dick hissed. “I just went to open it—”

The lid snapped open on its own.

Dick reached out to blindly smack at Jason’s arm.

“Stop it. I saw. Could just be a spring—” Jason reached out to touch it and the coffee machine lunged forward, narrowly missing Jason's fingers. "Holy fuck!"

“Did his coffee machine really bite him?!?” Dick screeched.

(Quietly.)

(He refused to wake Tim.)

“Maybe really, really strong springs?” Jason hissed back as he reached for the machine again.

Dick tackled the coffee machine as it sprang off the counter. The machine struggled, snapping its top open and closed as it strained for Jason. It was starting to heat up in his arms.

“Unplug it!”

“It’s not even plugged in!”

“What do you mean it’s not—”

The lock in the front door turned with a click and both brothers froze. The coffee machine snapped again in Dick’s arms and he shushed it without thinking.

The door creaked open.

“Tim? Starlight? You awake babe?” Whoever it was spoke quietly, like they knew how much of a light sleeper Tim was. There was a soft bang and a quiet curse as a slight figure slipped into the apartment hauling a carry-on suitcase and messenger bag that he dumped by the door. He turned away from locking the door and froze.

Three pairs of blue eyes blinked at each other.

“What are you doing to Tim Junior?” the stranger whisper screamed as he scrambled forward.

Dick let the guy snatch the coffee machine, backing up with his hands raised to show he was harmless. Not that he was, of course, he was running through all the places that he knew Tim had hidden weapons.

Not that the guy looked like much of a threat with the way he was petting the coffee machine and cooing at it. “It’s okay baby, the bad man doesn’t have you any more.”

Dick swore the coffee machine was purring back.

“Okay, who the fuck are you,” Jason growled.

Jason only got a single threatening step forward before he froze at a whine that came from a couch. Tim pulled himself up by the back of the couch, draping himself half over it.

“Danny?”

The guy— Danny— glanced at them before looking at Tim. “Hey starlight. So. Um, your brothers are here tonight?” The end of his sentence rose up in a little squeak.

Tim froze, going pale in a way that scared Dick a little as his eyes darted between all of them. “What day is it?”

“Sunday, babe.”

“Oh shit…”

“Want to introduce us, Timmallow?” Jason rumbled.

Dick was pretty sure that answer was ‘no the fuck I do not’.

Seems Danny thought the same as he jerked the hand not holding the coffee machine behind him. “I can just… leave and pretend I was never here?”

“No!” Tim said, scrambling over the back of the couch and sliding to stand next to Danny. “No, um. I should have—”

“It’s fine, babe.”

“No it’s not! I’ve been meaning to introduce you to them but— ugh.” Tim buried his face in his hands.

“Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” Dick suggested. He made sure to plaster on a cheerful smile. “Though, um, maybe without Tim Junior?”

Danny snorted and moved to set the coffee machine down on the kitchen island. Dick and Jason both gave it a wide berth as they headed over to the couch to sit. Dick steered them to stay on one side of the L-shaped couch while Tim and Danny sat on the other.

An awkward silence settled over the group.

Well they couldn’t have that. “So, Danny was it?”

“Yep, Danny Fenton. You’re… Dick? And Jason?”

“Yeah! Tim talks about us?”

“Of course, you’re his brothers,” Danny said. He reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “I guess… you haven’t heard about me?”

“Um, no,” Dick admitted. He could feel his smile falter for a moment at the hurt in Danny’s eyes.

“Danny—” Tim started.

“It’s fine.”

It didn’t sound fine.

“No it’s not,” Tim said. “I kept meaning to tell them but they— do you know how over the top they are? They would have been over here in five minutes to meet you and then for the next, like, week as they all got back into town. They would be everywhere for weeks and…”

Tim picked at his sweat pants, looking small and nervous. “And you just really moved in a few weeks ago and I wanted you to myself for longer.”

“Hey, starlight,” Danny said and reached out to curl his hand over Tim’s. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not and I’m sorry. So, officially, Danny, these are my brothers, Dick and Jason. Dick, Jason, this is my boyfriend Danny Fenton. He’s an engineering student at Gotham U.”

Dick offered his best smile. “I guess that explains the coffee machine!”

“Like fuck it does, that thing is alive,” Jason snapped. “It bit me!”

“You were grabbing him!” Danny said.

“It bit Tim too!”

“Aw, Tim Junior, no,” Danny sighed, taking Tim’s other hand and looking at the bandages carefully. “I wasn’t even gone for a week and you two were fighting?”

Tim whined. “He wouldn’t let me have any coffee!”

“How many cups were you on?”

Tim ducked his head in a mumble.

“How many was that?”

“Seven.”

“Tim!”

“You were gone! I couldn’t sleep,” Tim sulked.

The fight seemed to just drain out of Danny at that and he kissed Tim’s knuckles gently. “Ask your family next time before it gets so bad, okay babe? They’re obviously willing to look after you. And then Tim Junior won’t bite you.”

“Yeah Timmander, we won’t let you suffer,” Jason said with a smirk that had Tim narrowing his eyes at him.

Dick elbowed Jason (which was as effective as going for a brick wall). “We won’t. We’re happy to be around if you’re feeling lonely. Especially if it keeps you safe from your coffee machine!”

“Seriously,” Jason said, “What is that thing, er, Tim Junior made of?”

“Oh! Ectoplasm,” Danny said with a smile.

Dick paused. “…um, what?”

“Ectoplasm. You know, ghost juice?” Danny held out his cupped hand and green liquid pooled in it as if seeping out of his skin.

Jason leapt up and behind the couch before Dick was even registering what he was seeing. “What the fuck!? Why the fuck can your boyfriend make pit juice Timmy?”

Tim buried his face in his hands. “Not pit juice.”

“Ghost juice. Adjacent but very different, from what Tim has explained to me,” Danny said, the liquid fading away.

“That sure looked like pit water!”

“It wasn’t, see, pit water is pulled from the living while—”

“So,” Dick said quietly, leaning over to Tim. “Maybe not just that you wanted to keep him to yourself, huh?”

Tim just groaned and tried to bury himself under the green blanket and into the couch. “I should have just let Tim Junior eat me.”

-----

AN: Thanks to spite, finally got back to this and finished it up! I know not the firmest ending, but it covered what I wanted to~

Make sure to be better than Tim and hydrate and rest! Also stay delightful, darlings!

#dp x dc #braindead #deadtired #tim drake/danny fenton #tim jr coffee machine

[beenbaanbuun]

enemies w/ wooyoung

“i can’t believe i have to share a room with you,” wooyoung spits as he dumps his bag on the floor at the side of his bed. he wastes no time in throwing himself down onto the matress, keeping a stern aye on you as you make your way inside, “out of all the people on this trip, its you.”

you scoff as you follow him, slamming the door in your wake. trust you to draw the same colour marble as him. jung fucking wooyoung. number 1 on your hit list ever since the very first time he pulled your hair in junior school. hatred may have been a strong word, but it wasn’t nearly strong enough for the way you feel about him.

and now you have to spend the next week of your life in a combined space with him. perhaps you’ve done something wrong that the universe is punishing you for. maybe it’s a curse, or some evil spirit messing with you. you’re not entirely sure, but either way you’re certain something is out for your blood.

“the couch is available if you want it,” you snarl, barely able to keep a modicum of civility when it comes to wooyoung. there’s just something about him that makes you so inexplicably mad, “you know, if you have that much of a problem with me.”

“i’m fine here, actually,” he puts his hands behind his head in a display of arrogance. it’s difficult not to go over there and slap it out of him as you move to sit on your own bed, “but you can go and sleep there if you want; you won’t find me stopping you.”

you scoff, “what exactly is your problem with me?”

it’s hypocritical of you to ask that, you know. if anyone has the problem, its you. you’re the one who’s always fought against him; eye rolls and back handed comments the only things you give him whenever he’s around you. and you’re the one who’s always arguing with him over the tiniest of things, even if you know deep down that he’s actually right. some days you can’t even find a reason behind your incessant need to hate him, but that never stops you.

he’s just so annoying.

“you’re a stuck up little princess,” wooyoung supplies with that cocky grin still spread across his face. god, what you wouldn’t do to wipe that away and put him in his place; it’s almost a desperate need that you have to knock him down a few pegs.

“anything else, youngie,” you throw the nickname at him like it’s an insult. he catches it effortlessly, chuckling at your attempt to throw him off.

“yes,” he pushes himself from the mattress, sitting himself up straight so he can look at you; look down at where you lay on the bed beside him. so cute, with your arms crossed over your chest in a petulant attempt to act tough in front of him. it doesn’t work, your little act. not with the way your arms push your tits together, making your cleavage look so fuckable. wooyoung’s dick twitches in his sweatpants, “most of my problems are about you, actually.”

cliche, you think as you roll your eyes; of course he thinks you’re the cause of all his problems. just because he doesn’t like you, doesn’t mean he has to blame everything on you.

still, you’re curious.

when he starts talking again, you’re all ears.

“like how you think you’re so tough when you’re being a condescending little brat, when actually it just makes me want to pull you over my lap and make you scream,” the words take a second to sink in, but when they do, your jaw drops. he smirks, “or when you bite your lips when you’re mad; it just makes me think about how pretty they’d look wrapped around my cock.”

you can’t help the way your eyes flicker to the crotch of his sweats. he’s hard, or halfway there at least. fucking huge too, by the looks of it. you dart out your tongue to lap at your dry lips. holy fuck, what’s happening to you.

“and do you know that i see these pretty little things in my dreams?” a single finger brushes gently over your nipple, hard and visible through the thin material of your t-shirt. you suck in a sharp breath, barely catching a moan before it slips out, “wake up covered in my own cum every single time. dream you is just such a good little slut for me.”

the hand that sits gently on your tit begins to move, climbing gently up your chest until it lands on your neck. he squeezes down lightly, your head spinning under the barely there pressure.

“it’s a shame real life you takes a little more taming, hm?” wooyoung drawls as he bends down to your level. warmth spreads across your face as your lifelong enemy blows a stream of cold air over your face, chuckling to himself when you shiver.

how the fuck had you let this happen? one second you’re sure you had the high ground, and the next you have a hand around your throat and wetness leaking from your pussy. part of you wants to fight back. spit in his face and push him away. set a boundary and let him know that this, whatever the fuck this is, will never happen.

what scares you is that an even bigger part of you is begging you to give in.

and it’s a really shame that you’ve never been very good at saying no to yourself. it makes it borderline impossible for you to listen to that ever-shrinking part of your brain that’s telling you to run.

“wooyoung,” you whisper, although youre not even sure of your next words yourself. you haven’t decided whether this is going to happen or not. whether you’re going to let him tame you like he so clearly wants to. you open your mouth, hoping to all that is holy that you make a good choice.

“what do you want, baby?”

“fuck me,” you say.

oh…

“such a good girl.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung oneshot

[cryptid-intraining]

More Jason Todd Headcanons:

He refuses to take opiod painkillers no matter how bad he is hurting because he is terrified of getting an addiction like his mother.

To this day, Jason is the only one Alfred allows to help in the kitchen.

He never takes elevators. Self explanatory.

The other Bats have seen and heard him have nightmares before and they always assumed they were all about the Joker or maybe the League until one night when Jason ended up crashing at the Manor, Dick and Tim find him crying from the couch in his sleep and he calls out Bruce's name, begging and pleading until he wakes with a choked scream with a hand pressed tightly to the scar at his throat. They never ask but after that point both Dick and Tim struggle to look at Bruce in the eyes.

Related to that, Jason never told anyone about how Bruce cut his throat with a batarang because he always assumed none of them would believe him, that they'd just accuse him of lying.

Damian once threatened him with a crowbar and Dick had to physically restrain Jason from going after the small child with his knives. Dick had a serious talk with Damian after about not trying to re-traumatised your brothers just because they're retelling embarrassing baby stories your mother told them.

Edit because I'm bad at wording things and I've stopped caring about pissing Batman fanboys off: Jason is absolutely one of the best, if not the most formidable fighter in the Batfam. He has trained with Bruce since he was a kid, then the League, and was the only human to train with and survive the All Caste. He is fucking scary. But more than his physical prowess is his ability to get into people's heads, he studies people's flaws and weakness and uses that against them. He isn't just a great fighter, he's a intelligent fighter. One of his listed strengths on his Wiki page is literally 'tactican'.

His style of detective work isn't like Bruce's or Dick's. He grew up in Crime Alley, surrounded by crime since he was a kid, he understands how it works and how to use it to his advantage and he has resources and connections that none of the others have. He's less about the forensics and science and more about the people. What makes them tick and how he can use that to get what he needs.

Related to that, he also is insanely stubborn. He has grit, sure, but he is also afraid. He isn't afraid of death but he is so fucking scared of the possibility that if he dies again he might come back. In his words "the worse part of about his death was that it wasn't permanent." As such he will go further than most to prevent it from happening again. Even if that means enduring the worst pain imaginable because still to this day the thing that haunts him most, more than the warehouse and crowbar and Joker, was waking up in that coffin and realising no one was coming for him. That he was alone.

He hoarded food when he was first adopted by Bruce. And slept with a chair jammed under the handle of his door.

It took months for Jason to let Bruce or Alfred touch him as a kid. His only male authority figure had been Willis and it had instilled a strong distrust of older men in him.

Him and Stephanie both volunteer at shelters and food banks in their free time. Steph once invited Cass because she wanted her to see that Jason was more than just a killer.

Tim still flinches from him when he gets too close and it breaks Jason's heart a little. He's hurt people but it has always been him in control, his decision. The Pit Madness took that away from him, or at least it twisted his betrayal and hurt into rage and he still hasn't quite figured out how to apologize for that.

#batfam #jason todd #red hood #batfamily #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #cassandra cain #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #batfam shenanigans #batfam headcanons #incorrect batfamily quotes #incorrect quotes #jason todd headcanon #headcanon #jason todd angst

[kaiyaamin]

Can you make a Batmom story where she gets kidnapped and brainwashed by the joker?

YOU'RE STILL IN MY HEART!

She opened her eyes feeling the bright light hit her. She looked around for a second taking in her surroundings, she was definitely in a hospital because of the hideous clothes she was wearing and all the tubes and sorts. She saw two kids sitting on the chairs sleeping peacefully.

She slowly got out of bed, gently walking towards one of the boys. Shaking his shoulder, suddenly he woke up and gazed at his mother. Mom, are you okay, how are you? wait no you need to get back into bed, she was confused about why on earth this boy called me her mom. Umm sweetie I am not your mother and actually where are your parents? What the fuck was Dick's face at this moment. Did his mother just forget who he was, panicked he woke up Damian. What do you- UMMI are you okay, I was so worried. But to his surprise, she just stared at him.

She called the nurse and asked for the children to be taken to their real parents, but the nurse only said wait a moment a returned with a man. Y/N was relieved but for the wrong reason, Excuse me sir, but your kids keep calling me mom and I don't find that appropriate. Now Bruce was even more confused, Honey what are you talking about? Moving closer to her only for her to step back. She claimed she didn't know who he was, Bruce tried to explain that they were married and these were their kids Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. But all she said was why would I named my child Dick?, this made Dick not happy, and refused to say anything after this humiliation.

They took her to Wayne Manor where she was astonished that she even lived here. Alfred had hoped for Mrs.Wayne to be alright but was hurt by the discovery of her loss of memory. Their children especially Jason wanted to take revenge on the Joker but because of Batman no killing rule he couldn't kill him but theirs no rule for torture.

Bruce decided that he would sleep in the guest room tonight till his wife was comfortable. Jason volunteered to take to her room, helping her up the stairs to her room. Jason didn't take the news well, he was always a mama boy and would always say he loved mom more than dad (it was true).

A few hours later it was time for dinner usually Y/N would ask how everyone's day was but she just sat in silence playing with her food. It was awkward, to say the least, Tim felt all emotions when looking at his mother but was especially sad she didn’t even glance at him or care he was drinking coffee at night in front of her. But to everyone's dismay, she left sitting on the couch staring off into the distance. Guys, why don't we show her some pictures and tapes of us together, she will surely remember, Damian had said to bring our hopes up. It was worth the shot, Bruce exclaimed getting up along with Alfred to get everything ready.

They set up everything with the utmost perfection, they all gather around the TV ready to show their mom everything.

Dick was the first one to show. Good morning everyone it is currently 7:30 am, and we're here to wake up little dickie for his 11th birthday, his mother said next to her was his dad. Honey were probably watching this- only to be interrupted by his wife shushing him. Bruce aimed the camera towards their son laying their drooling on his pillow. Alright, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! They screamed together only to cause Dick to fall off his bed and onto the floor but he quickly recovered hugging his parents and blowing out his candles. What did you wish for Dick? Y/N asked hoping her son would give some hints but he only kept his mouth shut stuffing himself with the chocolate cake. Best birthday Ever!! Dick said with a toothy grin with cake all over his mouth.

Seeing this brought very vague memories but it was very slowly coming back. It looked so perfect, they were so perfect. Bruce looks over at his wife seeing something spark within her deciding to move on to Jason's video.

Batmom was holding the camera with excitement all over her face. Can you believe this, it's my baby bird's first Prom suddenly she started crying like a child not ready to let him go. Jason hugged his mother wearing a fancy black suit with his hair styled nicely looking like a prince. Mom, don't cry I will always be your baby bird no matter what, trying to calm his mother down by rubbing her shoulders. You better keep your promise, Y/N said in a threatening tone. She took many pictures of Jason and his date together before they were off in the limo. Their Y/N was hand in hand with her husband reciting all their Prom memories together sharing heartfelt laughs.

It was Tim's graduation video next, It shows Y/N and Bruce holding flowers and a poster saying congratulations on getting out of school, with excited grins. Finally, Tim's name was called with honors only to be interrupted by his mother screaming and shouting that's my son! Tim had made valedictorian and boy was Y/N proud of her Timmy. She took many videos, silently remembering to brag about this to the other moms. Tim ended his speech with a final thank you to his parents, especially his mother. Ohhh Bruce, did you hear that? he thanked me for his accomplishments, crying and sobbing at the same time. Many people turned around but the Bat family did not care with proud grins on their faces. Everyone later congratulated Tim with his mother repeatedly kissing his forehead and hugging him so tight.

Tim watched the video remembering everything that happened that day after they went to his favorite restaurant with a giant cake his mom ordered just for him. He couldn't hold back his tears and hugged his mom and to his surprise, she hugged him back just as tight with tears in her eyes.

next was Damian video, It was Christmas day, and all the children raced down the stairs to open their presents. It was also Damian first Christmas with the Bat family. Ok, kids since it is Damian's first Christmas with us he will open his presents first, Batmom said handing her son his first gift with an excited grin. Damian and the rest of the kids heard Meow Meow, Damian ripped to wrapping paper off the box opening it to find a cute small black kitty cat. Damian was ecstatic hugging his Ummi and father. What are you going to name it? bruce said with a lace of curiosity in his voice. I vote Demon spawn, Jason shouted only to receive a murderous glare from Damian. I am going to name it Alfred the cat, Damian said. I guess we have Alfred the first, Y/N said while pointing at Alfred who was sipping his tea. And Bruce finishes and says Alfred the second while holding the adorable cat.

All the kids looked over to see their mother crying with tears streaming down her eyes ruining her mascara not like she cared. All her babies ran to her including Bruce hugging her tight trying to stop the tears. Oh kids, I remember and I am so sorry I have forgotten but looking at you all, you make me so proud. Now it wasn't just Y/N who was crying but everyone was even Alfred shed a tear, Come on Alfred join us, Y/N said pulling Alfred in the hug and not letting him reply. It was perfect, they were perfect no matter how chaotic her family gets they will always have each other no matter what.

#batfam x batmom #batfam x reader #batman #bruce wayne x reader #batmom #batmom imagine #batmom!reader #batmom imagines #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #damian al ghul #batman and robin #bruce wayne #bru

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Gaps Interlude

Warnings: stalking, implied violence, obsession, manipulation, written through yandere’s pov, delusion.

I’ve decided to do a short interlude for Gaps! All of the interludes will be told from one of the Batfam’s prespective, so enjoy!

Dick meets you in one of Gotham’s many coffee shops in the tourist section. The place is homey and warm, a personal favorite of his since it always seemed to lull Tim into a relaxed enough state that his little brother could be cajoled or bribed into sleeping when he got home, and the people are the same. Which is why you catch his eye so quickly.

You look exhausted. The sort of exhaustion that causes droopy eyes and a tired slump to the shoulders, that made your face seem dull and listless. You were pushing through it, though, staring at the laptop in front of you with a tired focus that reminds him of Tim on the days when his little brother simply had to finish a project. It’s barely even a brief thought, that flickers in the back of his mind.

(Later, Dick will wonder if that thought is what started all of this. Later, he will card his fingers through your hair as you sleep peacefully in your bed, unaware. Later, he will wait as Jason and Bruce bring home his newest sibling.)

But at the time, he doesn’t think much of the concern blooming in his chest. He approaches you, an easy smile on his lips, carefully keeping his body language open, so that he didn’t frighten you.

“Hey. You look a little out of it, everything alright?” He calls gently, and tired eyes glance up at him, lips pulling down into a frown. Now that he was closer, he could see your ragged appearance, more than just the lack of sleep.

Your clothes weren’t threadbare, but they were definitely old, the fabric of the joints stretched and worn. A grey hoodie, jeans, common wear for just about anyone in Gotham. If it wasn’t for the way you were clearly struggling, Dick doesn’t think he would’ve noticed you.

(Later, the thought feels impossible. Of course he’d notice you, you were his little sibling, even if neither of you knew it yet.)

“Oh, um.. working on a paper for my classes. I’m supposed to do an informative paper on how vigilantes have influenced measure of force laws.”

“Are you taking criminal justice? I had to write something similar when I was in college for my degree. Mind if I sit?”

“Nah, sure, go ahead. And no, it was a randomly assigned topic. I think she picked something so specific to see how good our research skills are.”

“Would you like some help?”

The offer surprises you. It surprises him, really. He doesn’t mean to say it, it sort of just slips out, which should alarm him because he hadn’t been this impulsive around new people since he got B’s training. It doesn’t.

You accept, even with your surprise.

And Dick helps you.

He keeps helping you, helping you when you needed to do a paper, when you needed to do just about anything.

(Later, he will continue to help you, even if you think you don’t need his help anymore. That’s okay. You were his little sibling, and he would help you whether you wanted him to or not.)

Over time, he notices things. He doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but there’s only so much you can ignore when you’ve been trained by Batman and been through all the things he has. And it’s not like you do a very good job hiding it.

The first time he visits your apartment, there are meds in your bedside drawer, which is cracked open. He makes a note to read the scripts, later, so at the very least he could help you in the ways you needed him to. He waits until you are out of the room, sliding the drawer open silently, and looking them over. Meds for anxiety, depression, ADHD. A planner full of notes and reminders, a checklist of all the tasks you had to do to take care of yourself.

A journal, hidden in the back.

He slides it into his jacket without a thought, putting all the other items back.

Every word from the journal just makes the overwhelming need to protect you grow. You wrote about your memories, your struggles. You wrote about how hard it was to stay alive and sane in a city that so often turned out criminals and murderers. You wrote about how much it hurt, sometimes, being alone. You wrote about how you couldn’t trust anyone, even though you wanted to.

And you write about Dick.

The first time he sees an entry about him, he feels something curl in his chest, pleased and content. You had called him caring, had called him nice. You had called him sweet. Had admitted to wanting to be able to trust him, to appreciating his calls and his texts and his reminders.

And even Dick can admit that it makes him worse.

He calls you more often, talking about anything and everything. He reminds you to eat, or drink water, and even though you don’t like it, you listen, often complaining you were an adult even as he could hear you filling a glass.

(Later, Dick would look back on it fondly. You’d acted exactly like an irritated little sibling.)

He doesn’t start to follow you until later, and he’s amazed how quickly it becomes routine.

He just.. can’t help it. You’re all alone, in an apartment in Gotham, struggling and on your own. Any instance where a threat gets too close to you, it’s quickly dealt with.

He introduces you to his family. Damian first, of course, because he wouldn’t have it any other way, and it goes amazingly. You’re involved, treating his little brother kindly but without pity, and it makes him so happy to see his little siblings getting along. You tell Damian about a kitten you had, a Maine Coone named Momo, talk to him about past and current pets. By the time the conversation is over, he can tell Damian must adore you as much as him and the thought makes his heart soar.

He introduces you to Bruce, next. His adoptive father takes one look at you and he can practically see the man filling out the adoption appears already. He doesn’t think he expected anything less.

Jason introduces himself by breaking into your apartment, making you food, and having a two hour long conversation with you about literature.

And every sibling that meets you falls in love with you, and every one of them adore you, and it just makes Dick want to take you home even more because they’ve never all agreed on anything but they all agree you should be at home with them.

So when Bruce sends Damian to steal your ID, he doesn’t protest. When Bruce changes your meds from an anti-anxiety med for sleeping to a mild sedative, he says nothing. They had a plan after all. And a part of that plan was to make it so that you wanted to go home with them.

When Jason and Bruce bring you home, slumped in Bruce’s arms as the man watched you with a gentle expression, he can’t help the rush of joy in his heart.

He had never really been a patient guy, anyways.

#yandere dc #yandere platonic x reader #yandere platonic batfam #yandere dick grayson

[nerdpoe]

To Fail and to Succeed

AO3

Graphic depictions of death, descriptions of the sounds and smell of someone dying via electricity, don't read if u can't handle it. Take care of urself.

~~~~~~

Bruce was about to start falling asleep standing up, he could tell.

This couple had just talked nonstop for five hours about something that didn’t exist.

But he needed to act like Brucie, and Brucie needed to cement the fact that he was a frivolous idiot who would back other idiots like these ones.

His mind ached for something substantial to do, and the comm in his ear had long since fallen silent. He could tell that Dick was still there, at least; the snoring gave it away.

His other children had long since gotten bored and, after two hours of impressions and making fun of the Drs Fenton, had wandered off.

“-And that’s why our Portal is a guaranteed way to explore other dimensions!” Maddie cut into his thoughts, startling him to the extent that he had to put conscious effort not to tense up and dodge away from her proximity.

“You also get to skip that annoying airfare!” Jack worthlessly concluded, slapping Bruce on the back.

“Mom, Dad; you’re both on the no-fly list, remember?” Their daughter, Jasmine, the only blessedly normal one, reminded them on her way out the door. Bruce felt the involuntary sigh of relief leave him; they would not be able to legally fly to Gotham. 

Thank god for small mercies.

“Oh Jazzie-pants, like that would stop us!”

Did Maddie Fenton just confess to a crime? Did that mean he could report them?

Could Bruce…go home?

“Easy B, just put up with it until after dinner and you get to come back to your usual broody cave. I’ll even ask Alfred to make you cookies.”

Damn. Dick had woken up.

Bruce grimaced and moved so his hidden camera was fully taking in the lab. One last shot before excusing himself.

“Well, this has been a very interesting-”

“Anyways the portal is ready to go now!”

And with very little fanfare, Jack Fenton slammed the power switch down and stood directly in front of the supposed interdimensional portal. Ghost Zone portal. Whatever, anyone who knew anything about dimensions knew what that thing really was.

Bruce tensed and prepared to yank the fool to safety, but…nothing.

Nothing happened.

Bruce could have cried with relief.

These two were far too scatterbrained to put their literal doctorates to use.

He instead opted for putting a hand over his still-rapidly beating heart and letting out a very small, very unnoticeable wheeze.

He’d already been lost to time once, if he had to do it again because of these two mad scientists-because that is definitely what they were and they were going on a watch list after this-he would have…

He…

Well, Bruce wasn’t sure what he would have done.

Waited for his kids or friends to get him out again and then personally apprehend the Fentons, probably.

Jack looked like he was about to cry.

Scratch that, the man was actively tearing up.

Maddie rushed over to comfort him and Bruce used their distraction to get a better look at the portal without all the background noise.

It was…surprisingly well built. There was no cable management, no safety features, and its very purpose was unhinged. Otherwise, a fairly solid build.

The Drs Fenton would definitely be on the watch list for potential villains.

All Bruce needed was for Tim to tell him how best to make sure this monstrosity never worked, but his chronically sleep-deprived son had just fallen asleep, so that would have to be put on hold.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Wayne, but it looks like the Ghost Zone is going to have to wait,” Maddie sighed, looking just as heartbroken over it as her husband, “In the meantime, why don’t we go get some burgers. Cheer ourselves up.”

Bruce nodded along, playing up the sympathetic look and herding the couple upstairs towards the front door.

Halfway to the strange amalgamation they called their car, he stopped.

His Dad Sense, as Jason called it, was going off.

Jack and Maddie were in front of him.

Jasmine was walking down the street to do…something. Possibly library, if he remembered the layout of the city correctly.

Their son, Daniel was…

Quiet.

For all he had been bugging them to see the Portal come online, he had gone upstairs with his friends and they hadn’t heard a peep since.

Now that Bruce was thinking about it, he hadn’t even heard any footsteps running around up there.

That was Not Good.

The only time teenagers were that quiet was if they weren’t in the house to begin with, or if they were planning something they weren’t allowed to do.

Bruce would know.

He’d semi-raised enough teenagers to know.

Daniel and his friends were about to do something Stupid.

And looking at the boy’s parents, they would probably cheer him on.

“Hey, how about I meet you guys at the restaurant,” Brucie said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing, “I just realized I should pick up some documents from the hotel! I’ll grab those and then we can get that funding underway, hey? Your inventions really are out of this world!”

“Of course, Brucie, you take your time!” Jack vigorously shook his hand, almost yanking Bruce’s entire body off the ground.

Was the man a meta?

“We’ll meet you at Nasty Burger!” Maddie called, revving the engine of that…thing.

Bruce stayed out long enough to wave at them as they drove away and ran over multiple streetlights-why did they have drivers licenses-before diving for the front door and rushing in as quickly as he could.

Through the living room, down to the left, onto the basement stairs and-

-no.

Why were teenagers like this!?

“B?”

Daniel Fenton was dressed in only a hazmat suit, one designed for chemical exposure and not anything else, and was walking into the highly electrified metal arch.

“B, get him out of there!”

Bruce was already leaping over the railing, landing on a table and scattering the glassware. Daniel’s friends, Samantha and Tucker, bolted away from him, taking the phone they had been using to record their stupid stunt with them.

He ignored them.

“Daniel James Fenton!” The boy’s name was ripped from his mouth, voice in full Batman mode, before he even had time to think.

Daniel jumped.

Daniel turned around too quickly for his own two feet.

Daniel tripped.

Daniel fell.

Daniel reached out to stabilize himself.

Bruce was two steps away.

Then the world went Green.

Bruce couldn’t hear what Dick was saying as his body soared through the air and landed hard against the opposite wall.

What he could hear was the unending screams of a child being electrified to death.

He shakily pushed himself up, ignoring the pain from the probable concussion, and forced himself to stand.

The air was thick with smoke, and Bruce gagged when the smell hit him.

Pork roast.

Burning plastic.

The sickly-sweet scent of rot.

“-uce! Bruce! Are you okay?! I’m sending-”

Bruce was not okay.

Bruce could not string together a plan, and Daniel was still screaming.

If Daniel could still scream, then it meant that Daniel was still alive.

Bruce didn’t think, for once.

He charged forward, stuck his hands into the Lazarus Green portal, grabbed what he assumed was Daniel, and pulled.

First through the portal were the arms he was clutching, followed by a head of glowing white hair, and, finally, the rest of the boy.

It was Daniel, Bruce was sure. Same body build, same face, just different colors.

It would be fine.

Barry had survived his lab accident, Daniel would too.

He had to keep telling himself it would be fine, or his brain would shove him back to Ethiopia; with the same smells and the same smoke and a different dead child.

~~~~~~

Danny felt himself being yanked out of the pain, through the green, and laid on the floor of his parent’s lab.

He took his time, shivering and twitching as he hyperventilated. Whatever had just happened to him, he didn’t need to come back to himself until absolutely necessary.

He swore he could still feel the electricity burrowing under his skin, crawling up his spine, and-

-He didn’t want to think about that anymore.

Danny just wanted to go to bed. 

Or play video games. 

Or get a hug.

Danny could really go for a hug.

The shivering was dying down, and the twitching had almost stopped.

One more minute and he was starting to get his breathing under control too.

Opening his eyes, the first thing Danny saw was Mr. Wayne, crouched in front of him, talking to someone Danny couldn’t see, and looking over Danny with glowing, iridescent green eyes.

“Daniel, can you hear me now?”

Danny nodded, not trusting his voice to work.

“Good, hold on; there’s a…very specialized medical team who need to look you over.”

Oh, no.

Danny decided it was time to tell his voice to suck it up.

“Don’t-don’t tell my parents!”

Mr. Wayne paused, staring down at him incredulously. 

“Are you joking?”

Wow, Mr. Wayne sounded a lot like Sam when he was pissed.

Time to butter him up.

“No. I’m not. By the way, Mr. Wayne, whoever told you that the uh, white streak was a good look for you definitely deserves a raise! Totally! Also I swear I won’t tell anyone you’re a meta.”

Mr. Wayne froze, staggered up, and turned to look at the mirror next to Sam and Tucker.

They looked horrified, but they’d also just found out one of the richest men in the world’s deepest secret, so Danny couldn’t blame them.

Then Mr. Wayne let out a strangled sound, and Danny knew his attempt to butter the man up had failed.

“No, it’s fine. Dick. Dick, it’s fine. Stop panicking. Please, I can’t…deal. With that. I’ll go for a check up on the way back.”

Also Mr. Wayne had an imaginary friend.

Stupid.

Danny should have complimented the imaginary friend too.

“Danny, dude, what?” 

Danny turned to look at Tucker, only to lean away from the tears on his Best Friends face.

“Danny. Danny? Danny, I think you’re dead,” Sam whispered, the closed off look on her face when the world became too much.

“He’s not-”

“No I’m not-”

He paused in time with Mr. Wayne, who suddenly looked very concerned and glanced over at his parent’s stupid project.

Danny thought the concern wasn’t warranted.

“I’m not dead, look, I have a pulse and ev..ery…” Danny frowned, pushing his fingers against his jugular harder.

Nothing.

Hand over chest?

Nothing.

Wait, when was the last time he breathed after the panic attack?

He couldn’t remember.

“...Mr. Wayne,” Danny whispered, staring at the only adult in the room and hoping he could help, “Where’s my pulse?”

@ae-vixrose @treepainting @princessdaisysolosyourfaves @dixiwoods @marionkind @wisperwind22612 @cloudyelysian @dolfay @0nez1 @sweet-mango23 @choppedphantomsweets @thedragonqueen1998 @alinmenttreasure @apointlessbox @spectralstardustandphantomnights @skulld3mort-1fan

#phanfic #to fail and to succeed #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #bruce wayne #danny fenton #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #maddie fenton #jack fenton #liminal bruce wayne #liminal sam manson #liminal tucker foley #tw death #tw death by electricity #tw gore

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 4 progress

Now with 200% more bat!

masterpost

“Alright, have a good day.” Tim handed the clipboard back to a stone-faced delivery guy and took the package from Miss Fox back to his technology lair. He got a glass of water on the way down and then went about reproducing the experiment that Tam asked for.

She wouldn't give him details. But from the instructions and reported results, Tim was pretty sure that some employee had misrepresented their process. To what end, he didn't know. He was just the science guy, not a detective guy.

Although if he had to guess he'd say that they had switched out a needed chemical to hide that the supply was lower than recorded.

But whatever. That wasn't his business.

Tim happily went about science, recreating a corrosive liquid that would supposedly eat through reinforced metal. He had to make the Wayne tech protective coating for the metal as well to do the experiment properly. When he finished that he carefully dipped metal sheets in it and set them to drip dry. Then he turned back to the acid project.

Supposedly, the acid had been a failure. Tim thought it should work. Apparently Tam did, too.

The screens around the room all went black. He wasn't even using them but it was a hard thing to miss in your peripheral vision.

Tim groaned. “What now?” He asked the room. He clanged a piece of metal to the tabletop. “I am trying to finish this.”

Had he tripped some kind of security protection? Maybe they had all gone to sleep without getting a password at spaced intervals?

To be perfectly clear, Tim did not expect any kind of response.

Therefore he was startled halfway out of his skin when a female laugh came barrelling out of the speakers of the largest mounted screen.

He crossed his arms in a sulk.

“Tim?” She asked, after she caught her breath. “You're tiny.”

His face was catastrophically cranky: he could see it reflected back in the black screen. It was a perfect replica of Janet Drake discovering after she had formatted her latest paper in Chicago Style that the publication required the savagery of MLA formatting.

She laughed again. It ended with a hiccup.

‘Whoever this is, she can see me. She must be someone who knows me if I gave her that kind of access.’

“I'm not sure we're friends,” Tim announced, because it was time to face the facts: these people all knew a version of him, and that Tim was bigger. At least like, three inches. “I'm aware that I am small. I am working on it.” He glowered at the computer she seemed to be using.

It would take what, two years top for a major growth spurt? They could just chew bubblegum until then.

“Is that what you're doing now?”

Tim sighed. “No, I'm doing something for Tam,” he admitted. He scrubbed at his face with a hand. “Probably a good time for a break.” He started to tidy up.

“Yeah, so, I guess I can tell Dick that you haven't been kidnapped by lions or whatever it is he's talking about,” the lady said. The line turned to static for a second, then back just as quickly. “You, uh, need some help?”

“Absolutely not.” Tim shook his head in a sharp, decisive Jack Drake movement. “I don't need to be babied.”

“...I can see why you think you're in danger of it.” She snorted again. “Unblock Dick, please, he's got delicate feelings and I think we both have plans for tonight that don't involve him scaling your walls to find a way in.”

“....I'll unblock him,” Tim took the L gracefully. “I appreciate your silence on this matter.”

She snorted again. “Sorry.” She didn't sound very sorry. “It's just- your little businessman voice is so funny. I'm sorry, Tim.”

He looked up at the ceiling for patience.

“Oracle out.”

All the screens returned to normal. Tim let out a big long sigh and went back upstairs, taking his empty water class with him. At least he had a name, right? Oracle. He'd gotten a call from Oracle.

He mentally arranged the facts as he trudged up the stairs.

Fact one: he had replaced a Tim, who was Tim Drake-Wayne. (Upsetting information).

Drake-Wayne had to be fundamentally the same Tim as he was, given that both Tam and Oracle had immediately recognized him.

Fact two: Tim D-W was a vigilante.

Fact three: That was really cool.

Tim reached the top and made a mental note to enroll in some martial arts classes when he got back home. If he had potential to fight crime, of course he was going to do that. He unblocked Dick: oh no, Dick Wayne. He'd blocked Robin. He felt mortified. It was so obvious in retrospect. He put the phone down on the table, stomach twisting in social agony.

The phone immediately lit up with messages.

Well. Robin should be less annoying, if he didn't wanna get blocked.

He clambered onto the counter to search through for anything that would make a good lunch.

“... I'm terrible,” Tim complained. He stuck his head fully into the cupboard as if there might be something good at the back. “This sucks!”

Alright. Something had to be done. Tim decisively climbed down, using an open drawer as a step. He shut it with his heels and then went in search of a wallet. He needed a credit card and to find a delivery service.

He was going to act on faith that big Tim D-W wasn't going to ruin his life, even though he was a loser. Tim was doing a great job keeping Tim D-W’s life afloat. That merited some payment.

He converted that payment into a huge order to a grocery delivery service. He referenced Tam’s package to get the address.

The order was simple: fruits, breakfast meat, lots of bakery bread, and sandwich fillings. He was going to have tuna salad with cucumber and lettuce. He was going to learn to make egg salad. Optimistically, he even added melty cheese to the order and a can of tomato soup mix: grilled cheese couldn't be that hard, right?

He rounded off the order with lots of individually packaged drinks: milk and juice boxes, cans of grape Zesti, and hot cocoa powder.

"…This is so exciting,” Tim said to his empty apartment. His. In a very real and meaningful way, it was his apartment. He was totally unsupervised. Neat!

The phone buzzed again. When he picked it up it said “Jason.”

Tim blue screened. Tim dropped the credit card with a clatter. It disappeared under the table and he didn't even think to look for it.

Jason. Omigod, Jason. Jason was a person who existed. He'd forgotten.

All the pieces came together in a beautiful flash of light. He wasn't in a troubled huge age-difference relationship with Bruce (21 year difference) or Dick (9 year difference) . He'd gotten married to Jason Wayne, the kid that Bruce had brought home like a day ago according to the Gotham Gazette. (3 year difference: normal.)

The phone was still ringing. Tim picked it up with numb fingers. “Hello?”

“Hey, Timbers,” said a male voice. It was low, rough, and impatient. “You freaked Dickiebird out and he's been squawking at me all day. Tell me how many pieces you're in.”

Tim looked down at his body. “Just the one,” he said, voice coming out breathy. It felt like his being was floating outside his body. Wow. This was his boy- no, husband? Holy moly. He couldn't cope with that, he had to stick with boyfriend. He bit his lip. He had to make a good impression.

“...You sound about 10 years old there,” Jason said. He didn't hide his amusement. “You been huffing helium, babybird?”

Tim went bright red at the pet name. Painfully red. His face was on fire.

Jason took his silence as a response. “Alright, alright, keep your clothes on. You must be sick as fuck, poor thing. No wonder you didn't come out to play last night.”

Tim slapped his hands on his face and tried not to hyperventilate.

“I wasn't calling for Dick, don't get it twisted.” Jason cleared his throat, tone a little odd. “I picked up on something - I think one of my ongoing cases dips into your patrol area. You gonna come out on patrol tonight?”

“...No,” Tim said. There was no way that would go well. He didn't know martial arts yet.

Jason cursed, but he didn't sound mad about it. “Fair enough,” he muttered. “Uh, think you could do some surveillance for me?”

Tim nodded. Then he felt dumb and cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

…He felt even dumber. What should he say? This was his boyfriend. The stakes were so high. He had never wanted anyone to like him more.

Jason rattled off an address. It, like everything Jason had said, was going to live inside Tim’s head forever in perfect clarity. “Thanks,” he added after, a bit begrudgingly. “This guy's real fucking sick, been making human sausage.”

Tim… wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it sounded really bad. “I'll do my best,” he promised.

“Yeah…” Jason trailed off. “Maybe you should take a nap, some meds. That's a terrible hoarse throat. Don't kick your own ass on my account, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim helplessly echoed, and hung up. He sat in silence for a solid minute afterwards.

#red nest swap #dc fanfic #tim drake deaged #tim drake

[bruciemilf]

Battinson with baby Tim and Jason, please?

I love Annie, so please, give me all the adoption AUs. There's some real angst In Bruce honestly believing kids are the single luxury he'll never afford.

Plus, if those kids who used to crush his fingers between doors for fun were right about one thing, is that the Waynes were cursed. He'll never put anyone through that.

Bruce who meets Jason when he sees some of Falcone's men chasing him, saves him, and it's just his rotten luck that someone took a pic.

Apparently, he's the father of a little Crime Alley bandit successfully hid from the public.

Jason thinking Bruce keeps him around for image while Bruce genuinely loves him, sure, angsty. But.

What if Bruce wasn't a Wayne?

I'm just thinking of a prince and pauper fusion with Tommy Elliot, who's switched at birth with a baby boy that's so deathly pale and quiet.

Bruce who grows up in foster care, raising againts the odds, finally getting into college to become a paediatrician.

He interns, sometimes, for Wayne Ent, because Mr. Thomas likes his green energy, affordable ideas.

"I know it's horrible for me to say this, but," He sighs, " I wish my son was a bit like you." Bruce tells him, trust me, no one should be like me. But thank you. And please, tell Alfred to not pack 30 containers of food.

Bruce also works as a nurse. He comes home beat and sleepless and he doesn't even know how his apartment is clean. Doesn't know who covers him with a blanket after he collapses in a deep sleep.

He does find out, when he finds Dick, Jason, and Tim eating his food after a long shift that ended early. Dick, 15 and tall like a brickhouse, tackles him while the others run, " You don't tell anyone. Least of all Tom. Got it?"

He frowns. Tom did say (Bruce doesn't want to sound mean, but it did convey more like bragging) he just adopted a few boys. "But you're adopted by the richest man in Gotham. Why come here?"

Dick huffs, " He's gonna throw us out the minute he wins the election. Plus, this was OUR house before you moved in. This is Catherine's house. We're not moving."

Jason, a tiny little thing, steps forward, tear marks drying on his hollow cheeks. " ...You need to make sweets. Those blueberry fudge cakes you make when you're sad."

Bruce accepts. " But you have to tell me everything. Deal?"

Clark Kent, a reporter who's been assigned to investigate Gotham's potential trust fund mayor, whom rented the cheapest apartment right next to Bruce, thinks that's very interesting story indeed.

#bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #jason todd #dick grayson #batdad #batfamily #foster care au #kinda #writing #dc imagine #batfam #clark kent

[roses-r-rosie3]

Camping Trip

Jason Todd x M!Himbo!Reader

Warnings: fluff, slight angst

Summary: Jason invites the reader to a camping trip with the Batfam and tries to give hints to the reader that he likes him the entire trip but the reader is completely oblivious to it and thinks Jason is just being friendly

Quote: “Dang dude you’re stuck in the friend zone”

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

Everyone in the family knew about Jason’s little crush on you, so it didn’t surprise them when he invited you along to the camping trip as his “plus one” (even though it was only supposed to be a family trip). Jason thought that bringing you along to a camping trip with his family would be the perfect place for him to finally confess to you.

All of his other attempts were.. interesting.. to say the least. It wasn’t his fault by any means, but you were just very.. oblivious. One time he took you out to the movies, and he tried the classic “stretching his arms around your shoulders” trick. He thought that you had finally got the hint that he liked you. But afterwards, he got hit with this…

BUDDY?!?

“Dang dude you’re stuck in the friend zone” Dick laughed as Jason showed him.

Hopefully this time you would finally get the hint. I mean he’s inviting you to a trip, WITH HIS FAMILY! Surely you weren’t that clueless, right?

It was the day of the trip and Bruce rented a van, problem was, Bruce didn’t know that Jason was inviting you until he already got the van. Jason got the bright idea for you to sit on his lap, but when he mentioned it to Bruce, Bruce immediately denied it.

Jason decided to take a separate car with you to drive there since you weren’t the best driver. There was a time when you let go of the steering wheel to pull out a paper map because your phone had no service. It still puzzles everyone how you passed your drivers test.

Jason tried giving hints even while he was driving. Turning on love songs, placing his hands on your thighs, etc. but you still weren’t getting it, instead just thinking that he was being friendly. When all of you got there, you all built the tents and set up the campfire.

“Jason” Dick whispered as he motioned for Jason to come to him.

Jason followed Dick to where no one else could hear them.

“Ok so, I packed some kayaks for the trip, why don’t you and y/n down there before us” Dick winked.

“Oh my god! Thank you so much Dick! I owe you for this one” Jason smiled before running off to go get you.

“Hey y/n, I was wondering if you wanted to come down to the river, Dick brought some kayaks” Jason asked.

“Sure!” You smiled before following Jason.

While you were kayaking, Jason rested his head on your shoulder, but you still weren’t getting it. You just thought he was tired from all of the driving. When the two of you finally came back to the camping grounds, you were met with Jason’s family who were giggling and snickering, Jason later found out that they were taking pictures of the two of you.

When it started to get dark, everyone stood around the campfire while making s’mores. Everyone was laughing while talking about embarrassing stories, ghost stories, and catching up. It was a really fun time for everyone.

When it came night-time, everyone had partners to sleep with. Bruce got his own tent, Stephanie and Cassie, Dick and Damian, Duke and Tim, and last but not least you and Jason. After everyone got ready for bed, they said their goodbye’s and went inside their individual tents to sleep.

“I had a lot of fun today” you smiled as you looked into Jason’s eyes.

“I did too, especially because you’re here” Jason smiled back cheekily.

You just giggled before cuddling into Jason’s chest and started to slowly drift asleep. Jason couldn’t help but to chuckle a bit before slowly falling asleep himself.

You suddenly woke up in the middle of the night, in need to use the restroom. You slowly slipped out of Jason’s grasp and quickly walked behind one of the trees before relieving yourself. After you were done you quickly squirted some hand sanitizer in your hand until you heard some shuffling behind you.

“Hello…?”

Jason awoke and saw that you weren’t there with him. Jason got out of the tent to quickly go look for you. He turned on his flashlight and started walking but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you were surrounded by a pack of wolves.

“Y/n! What are you doing! Run!” Jason yelled out, scaring the wolves away.

Before you could talk, Jason interrupted you.

“Are you kidding me y/n?! You could’ve gotten hurt!” Jason yelled out before stomped his way back to the tent.

You were quick to follow him back to the tent. When you finally got inside, Jason was silent, almost ignoring you.

“I’m sorry Jason, I didn’t mean to worry you” you apologized.

“Why would you do that y/n! You could’ve gotten hurt! I would’ve lost you!” Jason sobbed.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to use the restroom and-”

You were interrupted when Jason smashed his lips against yours. As your lips met, a tingling sensation ran through your body. You felt his hands gently cup her face as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a certain urgency, as if he could lose you at any moment. When the two of you pulled apart, you struggled to open your eyes for a bit.

“I- I’m so sorry y/n- I would completely understand if you hate me after this- I didn’t mean t-”

Now it was your turn to interrupt him as you pulled him in for another kiss. This time, the kiss was full of tenderness and passion, and intimacy. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as you enjoyed the taste of him.

As you finally broke the kiss, you looked into each other's eyes, yours eyes were full of love, but not like before. Before, you looked at him in a friendly manner, but now, you looked at Jason with a special kind of love that made him feel warm.

“Thank you for saving me from those angry dogs Jason” you blushed.

“Wolfs y/n, they were wolfs” Jason chuckled.

“Awwwww how cute!!!” Stephanie giggled.

You and Jason immediately turned your head to see that not only was Stephanie there recording, everyone else was awake too.

“How long have you guys been watching for!” Jason yelled.

“We heard you screaming y/n’s name so we woke up and saw you guys talking to each other, and MAN I didn’t expect that to happen!” Tim said.

“Even im shocked” Damian commented.

“Sooooo… Are you guys together now?!” Dick asked impatiently.

“I guess so” you smiled.

#male x male #mlm #malexmale #male reader #mxm #gay #rosesrrosie3 #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x oc #red hood x gender neutral reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood x male reader #red hood x oc #red hood #jason todd #red hood x y/n #red hood x himbo!reader #Jason Todd x himbo!reader

[ragnarokhound]

((you don’t have to do both if you don’t want to, you can consider this one a back up / alt))

“If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” 💞

From this writing prompt list i reblogged in...november lmao fljdsjfa

anyway this grew legs and sprinted away the second I picked it up yesterday - clearly it just needed some time to proof lmao. Thank you for the ask, tauria!! From *checks watch* almost 5 months ago fjdslafjsa I will be cross-posting it to Ao3 in my new oneshot collection fic :)

Warnings for: Vague allusions that Ra's Al Ghul is a creep (what else is new), threats of gun violence, canon-typical violence

15. “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.”

When Tim arrived in Gotham this morning, he had no way of knowing that his day would end in Jason Todd’s bed. 

Frankly, he wasn’t really sure what bed he’d end up in— because his own certainly wasn’t an option right now. But If he had to pick, Jason Todd’s was somewhere near the bottom of whatever list he’d make.

He didn’t exactly plan on this, okay? 

But, uh. Let’s back up a little.

—

Tim knew his day was going to go to shit when he got back from the airport at 7 AM.

He had his driver drop him off two blocks away from his townhouse for the sake of caffeine at the hole in the wall place he likes. Wealthy CEO he may be, but a sixteen hour flight is still a sixteen hour flight and Tim is cursed with an inability to sleep in the air. 

Don’t ask. He’s tried. It doesn’t work.

So he wants coffee, and he wants a shower, and he wants his own bed. In that order.

With the first thing on his list acquired and blessedly burning his tongue, he managed to tug his brain cells together enough to realize that the building they’d passed that had been shrouded in tents and canvas was his building.

"What's going on here?"

The worker outside his building looks up from her clipboard, her face wrinkling into apprehensive confusion.

"Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

He hasn’t slept in roughly seventy two hours. He is not awake or patient enough for this.

“My name is Tim Drake. I own this building. What’s going on here?” He repeats.

The woman raises her eyebrows and looks down at her clipboard again. “Mr. Drake?” She questions, clearly expecting him to look like a grown-ass man and not a sleep-deprived college student coming home from spring break or whatever.

“Yes. Timothy Drake-Wayne. Why are you—” he tries to gesture with the hand still holding his suitcase handle, walking towards the tarps and tents erected around his townhouse with increasing trepidation, “—here?”

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t go in there. Not for at least forty-eight hours.”

Tim stops in his tracks.

“Forty-eight—?”

“We've been scheduled to fumigate the property today.” She says it like she’s reading it out of a handbook. “It won't be safe to enter the building for at least forty-eight hours. You should have received prior notice. Uh. Sir.”

Tim's jet-lagged brain kicks into overdrive. 

Bruce hasn't made any disappointed noises about Tim’s perfectly normal work ethic lately so it probably wasn't a misguided attempt at benching him. And besides, rendering Tim’s apartment inaccessible is counterproductive on that front. 

Dick wouldn’t. They haven’t been exactly— great, lately but he wouldn’t. Besides, if he wanted to get Tim out of the house more, he’d show up to drag Tim out into the daylight himself. This is a little too roundabout for him.

It’s too much work to be Steph. She would think it’s funny, but there’s no way she’d follow through.

Damian might, but this doesn’t quite fit his preferred methods for making Tim’s life hell. It could be some cloak and dagger maneuver to leave him vulnerable, faking a complaint to the city so he’ll—

And then Tim thinks about the call.

The call he’d brushed off at fuck o’clock in the morning somewhere over Europe, too busy with another project. The call his secretary took for him instead. He thinks about the distracted confirmation he’d given to whatever it was she’d asked him about five minutes later. 

He also thinks about the form he signed about two weeks ago, before this last minute trip to Hong Kong had consumed his entire attention. The one with “Two Weeks Notice” stamped across the top. His stomach sinks.

“Today,” he repeats.

She looks apologetic. “Today,” she confirms. “And we just started about an hour ago. I’m very sorry, Mr. Drake-Wayne but—”

"No it's—" he says through gritted teeth, "fine. I'll just. Make other arrangements."

—

He does not make other arrangements. Though not for lack of trying.

Tim has a handful of safehouses scattered throughout the city. He has options. He gets a taxi to the closest neighborhood, and nearly falls asleep in the backseat. The cabby has to knock on the glass divider to get his attention when they come to a stop. He grumbles and hauls his suitcase out of the backseat, and tips the man excessively.

Shower. Bed. Sleep. He’s so close he could cry.

Except when he finally rolls around the block, coffee half gone and trying to remember if this safehouse is the one with in-unit laundry or if he’ll have to haul his shit down to the laundry room, his building is a blackened husk with police tape all around it.

He stops on the sidewalk. He peers up at the window of his unit, squinting at the peeling black wood and shattered glass. He ponders whether two is enough data points to be considered a pattern. And whether he could get away with napping in the alley on this street or if that’ll end with him stabbed and robbed.

As he’s pondering, he catches sight of a passerby and stops him.

“‘Scuse me,” he says apologetically. “What the hell happened here?”

The guy looks up from his phone and takes in his rumpled clothes, his suitcase, and the scorched remains of his apartment.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, there was a big fire about a week back? Bad fire. Took out, like, half the block. Cops are saying it’s arson.”

“A week ago,” Tim repeats. The guy’s eyes widen.

“Oh shit, bro, did you live here?”

“I’ve been out of town,” he explains numbly.

“Dude, that sucks. And right in the middle of con’ season. Good luck finding a hotel!”

“Yeah,” Tim sighs as the guy walks away. “Thanks.”

—

The next safehouse he tries isn’t in much better shape. 

He remembers hearing about Freeze going on a rampage a few days into his trip, but he hadn’t realized another one of his places had been caught in the cross-fire. The cold burst the pipes, and now the whole place is undergoing renovation.

He hears all this from the crotchety old lady who lives in the next building over (her building needs renovation too, but will the city pay for it? Of course not, they weren’t ‘directly impacted by disaster’ so they won’t see a penny of relief funds even though their pipes are on the same line. Typical) and when he finally extricates himself from the conversation, it’s almost noon, his second cup of coffee is long-since empty and he’s at the end of his goddamn rope.

By the time he sees his next safehouse, he isn’t even surprised anymore.

“Does God hate me?” He asks the boarded up building. “Is this a punishment? What did I do? What the fuck did I do?”

He is 99% sure at this point that someone is burning his bolt holes. There’s a short list of people with the resources and the intel to do it, and while he’s not above ruling out the likes of Damian just yet, he seriously doubts anyone wearing a bat is behind this. 

Besides, Dick would have noticed by now if Damian were sinking this many resources into convoluted covert ops designed to make Tim suffer. Definitely. Probably.

Fuck it.

He goes around the back and hops on top of his suitcase to reach the clunky camera watching the back entrance. This building is on the shittier side, closer to Crime Alley than his other haunts; cameras break all the time around here. He’ll have it replaced after he’s a functional human again.

Reportedly, this building was tagged for ‘high toxicity levels’—  which is pretty typical for any building where fear toxin or Joker gas are found in any amount. They must have found a lot to condemn the whole building, but Tim is confident he’ll be fine. The airborne shit dissipates to safe levels within hours depending on the ventilation. If it was in the air, it’s long gone. Anything else needs to be injected to be effective.

Once the camera’s busted, he kicks out the boards and heads inside.

He drags his suitcase in after him, and mourns the shower he probably won’t be getting. The hall lights are out, and chances are the water’s been shut off along with the electricity. But at this point, he simply does not give a shit. All he wants are four walls and a mattress.

Leaning on the door to his floor to make it open, he stumbles out into the hallway—

And catches sight of the glistening curved dagger stabbed into the wall next to his door, the hilt gleaming green in the sinking sun.

“Nope,” Tim says, spinning on his heel and going back down the stairwell double time. “Nope, nope, nope.”

He is now 100% certain that the League of Assassins has been burning his bolt holes. Ra’s al fucking Ghul can eat his whole ass.

—

Seven blocks away, Tim sits on the sidewalk in front of a bodega and contemplates a third cup of coffee. The shittiest one yet.

See, here’s the thing.

The thing is, he has options.

He could go to the Manor. Or the penthouse. Or to Steph’s place. He’d have to answer some unnecessary questions like ‘Master Timothy, you know you can’t sleep on aircraft, why didn’t you sleep before your flight’ or ‘Tim, why didn’t you come here first, you know you can still come to me if you’re in trouble, right’ or ‘why did you agree to fumigate your fucking house, you loser, lmao’. (Stephanie is not going to let him live this down). 

He is absolutely certain that he would be welcomed in any of these places and after a completely undeserved amount of fussing, he could take a fucking nap and someone else would deal with the League bullshit for him.

And that’s the thing. There’s the rub.

No one should have to deal with the League bullshit for him. This is his problem. He’s not in a hurry to bring them down on anyone. Not even Damian.

With grim resignation, he reaches for his phone to try and find a hotel room (during a con’ weekend apparently, RIP) and maybe get a fucking handle on this whole stupid thing, when he hears:

“Hand over your wallet!”

He lifts his head slowly and finds himself looking down the barrel of a gun. A gun held by some guy wearing a ski mask in broad fucking daylight. There’s another guy next to him who’s watching the street. There’s a third guy somewhere behind him who he can’t see, but he can hear the scuff of his boots.

Sure. Why not. With the day he’s had, this might as well happen. He holds up his hands placatingly.

Tim contemplates his muggers. The guy with the gun is jittery, probably new to this, or hopped up on something. He keeps glancing between Tim and the bodega behind him, so they were probably planning a run on the till. Might have chickened out, or thought Tim was an easier target, an unexpected meal ticket plopped right in their path. Or they were already inside when Tim sat down, which wouldn’t bode well for his situational awareness seeing as he just came out of there himself.

The grinding gears of his tired brain keep getting caught on the fact that this is happening in the middle of the fucking day. Tim glances at the street corner and bites his cheek in frustration. Yeah, he’s smack dab in the middle of the Alley. Figures.

“Are you deaf or somethin’ man?” The guy with the gun is saying. “Hand over your fucking wallet!”

The other guy doesn’t seem as crazy-eyed. He’s nervous, though. He keeps looking around like he’s expecting Batman to materialize, to come whistling down the street like a beat cop.

“Dude, come on, it’s not fucking worth it,” he says, grabbing at the gunman’s shoulder. “We got the money, let’s fucking go.”

The third guy kicks over Tim’s suitcase. “Yeah, come on, Don, let’s just grab this shit and bounce.”

Tim can’t do anything. He’s not Red Robin right now. He’s Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and he’s getting mugged in front of a bodega at two in the afternoon in a rumpled suit and tie and still toting his suitcase from his early morning flight. 

His hands are trembling from unspent adrenaline, too much caffeine, and not enough sleep. His eyelids are the heaviest they’ve ever been in his godforsaken life. His ears are ringing. He could knock all three of them down in less time than it takes to tie his shoelaces. But he can’t.

“Shut up, Johnny, look at him shaking! What’s he gonna do? If he doesn’t wanna get shot, rich boy’s gonna hand over all his fucking shit!”

“Hey, let’s just—” Tim tries to say.

Stars explode across his vision as Tim takes a punch he genuinely wasn’t expecting. He stares up at the blue sky for about half a second, more confused than anything else, before the gunman grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him up to shout in his face.

“What’s it gonna be, pretty boy?!”

Caught on the exhausted edge between vigilante training and the preservation of his identity, Tim is frozen. He doesn’t know what to do. He kind of wants to cry.

“Gee, Donny, what is it gonna be?” A fourth voice says, full of false cheer.

Tim blinks. So do the muggers. 

He knows that voice.

“Who the fuck—?” The gunman drops Tim, spinning around and into a fist. He tumbles down to the ground, out cold.

Everything happens pretty quickly after that.

Jason Todd is in civvies. He’s sporting a worn out looking hoodie and a pair of jeans that have seen better days. But his heavy boots are the same ones he wears for his uniform, and the kick he delivers to Johnny’s face is all Red Hood.

Almost in a daze, Tim watches him fight with the usual mix of seething envy and raw desire that rears its ugly head any time he gets to see Jason in action. He’s fast, decisive. Efficient. Beautiful. Tim wishes he had Jason’s skill. And he wishes— 

Well. He wishes a lot of things about Jason Todd.

Tim is pretty sure he and Jason are friends. Maybe. Probably. They’ve pretty much moved past the whole “replacement”, “zombie-dickhead” part of their relationship and have graduated to occasionally providing backup on ops that overlap in each other’s sectors, ganging up on Dick when they’re all in the same room, and maintaining a surprisingly steady stream of vigilante gossip to keep each other in the loop. 

So, ok, yes, due to the aforementioned, he’s pretty sure they’re friends. And also because Jason wouldn’t have stuck his neck out for him otherwise. He would have just let him get mugged.

Watching Jason fight is one of Tim’s favorite pastimes. But right now, Tim’s usual appreciation is soured by the gut-roiling embarrassment of being caught in this position by Jason of all people. His eyes itch. His cheek throbs. He’s so fucking tired.

“Hey, little stalker,” Jason says suddenly, holding out an expectant hand in Tim’s face. The muggers are groaning on the ground around them. Tim isn’t sure when that happened. He might have zoned out. “Did you know that you had a stalker for a change?”

Tim flushes. “I resent that. I haven’t stalked anyone in years.” He takes the hand. It’s warm, and calloused, and big around his.

Jason laughs at him and yanks him to his feet. “Liar.”

Tim’s mouth twists into a scowl. He tries to glare at Jason, but he can feel himself swaying and Jason still hasn’t let go of him, and it’s ruining everything.

Also, lowkey, Jason is right. But in his defense, it is literally their job to stalk people, so.

“I haven’t stalked you in years then. Just other guys. Bad guys. Not non-bad guys. Fuck. You know what I mean. Whatever.” He pauses; recalibrates. “Had?” He asks.

Jason’s eyebrows inched higher and higher the longer Tim talked. Tim doesn’t blame him.

“Yeah. Had.” 

So much for the League, Tim muses.

Jason gives him a once over before tugging decisively on Tim’s wrist, easily grabbing the handle of his suitcase and starting to walk with both in tow, to Tim’s rising horror. 

“You’re coming with me, shortstack. What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk? You look like shit.”

Tim tries to yank his wrist out of Jason’s grip, but the asshole doesn’t budge. “I’m not drunk,” Tim snaps. “I’m fine. I’m just. I’m just… really tired.”

Jason stops abruptly, and Tim stumbles into his shoulder.

“I can see that,” he says, steadying Tim with an amused but ultimately sympathetic look. He loads Tim’s suitcase onto the back of a motorcycle that Tim literally just now noticed. 

God, he’s fucked. And not even in a fun way. 

“C’mon,” Jason says. “Don’t fall asleep on the way over— road rash sucks ass.”

—

They don’t talk on the way to— wherever Jason is taking them, but once they’re parked in a random garage and walking towards the elevators, the game of twenty questions begins.

“So why’ve you got League assassins after you, anyway? Piss in a lazarus pit? Push over the baby brat on the playground?”

“Ra’s al Ghul wants my body,” Tim says, dejected but resigned to this bizarre fact of his life. “Since I was seventeen, I’m pretty sure.”

Jason wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

“I don’t think it’s a sex thing? But it could also be a sex thing.”

“Again. Fucking ew.”

“Yeah. Also I blew up a bunch of his shit and I think he’s still salty I got away with it.”

“Is that why you weren’t at the Manor?” Jason asks, herding Tim out of the elevator and down a long hallway. “Or anywhere but a random street in Crime Alley?”

Tim nods. “Yeah. They found all my safehouses, but— my mess. My problem.”

Jason thwacks him upside the head.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“You’re the dumbest person on the planet.”

“Am not. B is on-planet right now.”

“Then you’re pretty fucking close,” Jason snarks, fishing out some keys and opening one of the apartment doors.

Tim scoffs at him as he’s pushed inside. “Oh, please. Don’t try to tell me you would let Dick swoop in and solve all your problems for you.”

Jason rolls his eyes, stepping into the side kitchen and popping open the freezer door of the fridge.

“Dickiebird can’t even solve his own problems,” he says as he rummages. “But maybe when I’m fucked up enough to let three nobodies robbing a fucking bodega get the jump on me, that’s a sign that, maybe, it might be time to call in the cavalry. Dick isn’t the only person who’s got your back.” He presses an ice pack to Tim’s face until he takes it himself, and keeps steering him through the apartment. “Just saying.”

Tim would protest with all of his very good reasons why Jason is definitely wrong here, but he’s too busy processing the fact that Jason has led him into a bedroom. With a bed. There’s a bed, with a mattress and pillows and blankets. Right there. Tim stares at it with lustful eyes.

Jason catches him staring. He rolls his eyes, but he’s sporting a small smile that Tim has the presence of mind to memorize. He walks over to a dresser and pulls out a big shirt and a pair of shorts that he hands to Tim.

“Look. If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here. No guarantees I’ll be always around, but, yeah. Mi casa es su casa, or whatever.”

Tim eyes him up, clutching the bundle of Jason-smelling fabric in his hands. “And you’d do that for me because…why, exactly?”

Jason flicks his forehead, a stinging reprimand. Tim hisses.

“Because, dumbass, you need help and I feel like it. And you don’t actually suck to be around, so shut up and be grateful.”

“Oh, yes,” Tim deadpans, rubbing at his forehead. “So grateful to be allowed the privilege of squatting with you.”

The thing of it is, Tim is grateful. But Jason doesn’t need to know that.

Jason squawks, and before Tim can duck, he’s snatched Tim around the neck in a headlock. His arm is thick and doesn’t budge no matter how Tim shoves and kicks. The ice pack and the clothes go flying, and Tim just about dies. Jason is warm.

“Jason—!”

“Brat!” Jason crows, not giving an inch. “I paid for this place fair and square— you’re the only squatter here!”

“Blood money doesn’t count as square!”

“Tell that to half of Gotham, kid.”

“I’m trying to, thanks for noticing,” Tim says, finally wrenching himself free of Jason’s grip, stumbling into the bed and giving into its siren song. He sits down heavily on the edge, toppling over sideways and reaching pathetically for the fallen ice pack that’s just out of his reach.

“And don’t call me kid—” he complains, muffled by the pillow. It also smells like Jason. “You’re barely two years older than me.”

The cold ice pack is pressed into his fingers. He cracks an eye open to look, but Jason is just smirking at him, like he’s giving Tim the win. Ass.

“Coulda fooled me, shortstack.”

Tim rolls his eyes, and onto his back, toeing off his shoes and letting them clatter to the floor. He can’t tell if Jason’s bed is the best bed in the world, or if he’s just deliriously inventing things.

Frankly, Jason Todd’s bed is the last place he ever thought he’d end up, this morning or otherwise, so he’s never bothered to speculate. He does not have a contingency plan for this.

“Is there a reason you keep calling me short,” he complains, “Or will I just need to fill in the blanks myself?”

“Can’t help it. You’re just so small,” Jason coos. Tim props himself up on an elbow at that, raising a disgusted eyebrow.

“You don’t hear me constantly talking about how big you are.” 

Jason grins like he just won the lottery; Tim shuts his eyes the second it’s out of his mouth.

“Baby, you don’t know how big I am.”

He does, actually. Not in a creepy stalker way, just— there was this one time. A big rogue breakout at Arkham, all-hands on deck type of situation; Tim, Cass, and Jason were covering Poison Ivy in the park. Acid-spitting pitcher plants were involved.

And look, Jason’s tactical gear is fine in the day to day, but it’s not like any of them had time to prep a neutralizing agent, so when Jason needed his pants off, stat…uh. Well. Tim was right there.

He knows, okay?

“Alright,” he rallies, trying desperately not to replay the memory of Jason adjusting himself through his boxers. All of himself. “I walked right into that one.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ll know if you’ve walked into it.”

Tim scoffs, but he can feel how red his face is.

And the thing is. He says it without really meaning to. 

But he still means it.

“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, big guy?”

The change is immediate. Jason had been halfway out the door, but now he turns to Tim, giving him his full, undivided attention. He looks at Tim, laid out in Jason's bed, giving him a very slow once over. The scrutiny is at once nerve-wracking and thrilling.

“Thought you didn’t want my money,” Jason murmurs.

The temperature in the room spikes. If it weren’t for the slow throb of his bruised cheek, Tim would think that he’s already asleep and dreaming.

But he isn’t. He’s very much aware that he’s wide awake.

Tim swallows. “Well. It’s not your money I want.”

Jason’s grin is electric. 

He stalks over to the bed, and Tim is frozen like a rabbit, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Jason settles a knee on the sheets between Tim’s legs, looming over Tim and boxing him in against the mattress. Tim’s free hand reaches up of its own accord to tangle in the collar of Jason’s hoodie, and the cotton is softer than he expected.

Jason’s eyes rove over his face, dark and heavy. He catches Tim’s face in his hand, swiping his thumb lightly across the bruising hot ache of his cheekbone. He leans in deliberate and slow and—

—and stops about an inch away from Tim’s mouth.

“Get some sleep, babybird,” Jason teases, his breath puffing gently over the skin of Tim’s lips. “You can proposition me again tomorrow.”

“It’s, like, 3:30 in the afternoon,” Tim argues, breathless.

“Yeah, and your body thinks it’s 3:30 in the morning. You’re dead on your feet. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, and go the fuck to sleep.”

Jason moves to rise. But Tim hooks a stubborn arm around his neck and pulls him down that last remaining inch. 

The kiss is— bad. At first. 

Tim basically smashed their mouths together to prove a point, and Jason muffles a surprised sound against Tim’s teeth. He lands heavily on top of Tim at an awkward angle, and he’s kind of crushing him. Tim refuses to let go, but— Jason doesn’t pull away.

Jason gentles the kiss instead, and Tim thrills. He levers himself up onto his elbow, wrapping an anchoring arm around Tim’s back. He finds a home between Tim’s legs, and he lets Tim kiss him until Tim's lips are tingling and his fingers go slack; until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

Somewhere between fifteen minutes and a small eternity later, Jason presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth. He curls around Tim on his side, and Tim turns his face into Jason’s neck with a soft wondering sigh.

“I’ll keep it. Promise. Wait n’ see,” Tim mumbles. Jason snorts, but doesn’t budge, and Tim can hear his smile in his voice, lilted and lulling.

“Sure, babybird. I’ll wait. I got nowhere else to be.”

Tim is already asleep.

#one hundred thousand years have passed #i creak up out of the soil gasping and hacking and coughing #'i lived bitch' #'have some jaytim that grew legs on me' #my writing #asked and answered #jaytim #ladytauria #hurt/comfort #this one is sillier and more light-hearted than the other ones #the hurt is more like 'near tears travel exhaustion' than your typical aftermath of violence lol but it so definitely counts #i held a gun to the head of the muse that said 'this is way too short' and pulled the fucking trigger #i KNOW it's a very fast get together but i did Not want this to become my next 5 digit wordcount fic okay. okay. oka #the bones of a long 'tim and jason vs the league of assassins' fic is hiding here #and if i actually wrote that this would have ended much differently #but i am Not Writing That okay I am Writing Cowboys and also Werewolves Right Now. I Do Not Have Time For This!!!!!! #prompt fill

[dairy-farmer]

I'm not sure if you check the comments on your AO3 stories or not anymore, but I wanted to share the content I left (both because I want to make sure you see it and know how much I like your writing, and also because I crave validation as well ❤️) so I'm basically just copy/pasting the comment here (with some added spelling corrections):

[Comment I left on 'i drink the honey (inside your hive)']

This is probably my 20th time reading this because it is so so good: not only is somnophilia my jam, I love how Dick keeps telling himself 'this is all I'm doing, no more!' and then keeps going anyway. Also, your dirty talk (in all your fics, not just this one) is always so hot - I find a lot of people have trouble managing to be explicit and sexy without ending up in 'this is so cringe it's ruining the mood' territory. Seriously, my favorite part is Dick moaning and telling Tim he has no other place to cum, and how he'll make it up to him and how good Timmy is being for him🤤... Yeah❤️❤️❤️.

Moving on: I see some comments trying to work Jason into this hot mess, but I'm more interested in Damian at the moment: you've already shown in Carnation Instant Bitch that he's totally the type of character who could get off (at least for a bit until he got lonely) on some good old fashioned somnophilia. So this is what I'm picturing:

Bruce and Dick are needed for League and Titan stuff, Jason is off with the Outlaws, and Alfred is out of the country visiting his daughter. And even though Damian is a mature, self-sufficient (former) assassin child, he's also only 13 and they cannot in good conscience leave him by himself for however long this mission takes. So Tim gets roped into batsitting duty (let's also say that they decide not to patrol until someone gets back, because they want to make sure there's backup if something goes wrong). Damian doesn't want to kill Tim Drake any more (at least no more than most siblings want to kill each other) but he's still a little shit sometimes. And he really wants to search Tim's room for ammunition to use against him, but when Tim is away he always secures his room at the manor so tightly even Bruce (or Selina) would have trouble getting in. But! He doesn't do that when he's actually sleeping in his own bed, because he trusts his vigilante instincts to protect him and/or wake him if someone comes in.

Luckily, Damian is aware of some sleeping medication Bruce has cooked up and keeps on hand: it's very useful for getting stubborn vigilantes to actually stay put and rest when they're injured (and he has seen Alfred use it against Bruce as well). So, some of that careful crushed up and hidden inside a teacup when Damian brings out some tea for them to share. Drake is far too smart to accept a drink from Damian he hasn't seen either prepaired in front of him or served from the same container - but of course he wouldn't think to check the cups before Damian serves them both.

Damian worries for a moment, when the drugs should start to kick in, that Drake is on to him: his eyebrows furrow for a moment and he looks over the top of his teacup to study Damian oddly. But then he just gives Damian a small smile, finishes his tea, thanks Damian again, and says he's heading off to bed because he's getting tired.

Damian waits about an hour before sneaking into Drake's room, double checking that all the traps on the door and entrance to the room are disabled. He's excited to finally have a chance to find something embarrassing or incriminating that he'll be able to use against Drake in the future. After searching the desk in the room (only unused stationary, no notes or anything that might be useful), Damian heads towards the closet, glancing at Drake to make sure he still asleep: yup, still asleep on his back, blankets tangled around one leg and sleep shirt bunched up around his waist, showing on his bare pussy. Damian freezes and does a double-take because What. Drake has a- a pussy?!?

(I like to think -because it's fucking hilarious- that no one bothered to mention that Tim is trans to Damian when he joined the family, and Damian spent most of the first year or so completely ignoring Tim when he wasn't trying to kill him and by the time Tim may have felt comfortable sharing this fact, or even just sharing the communal showers with Damian, Tim had already moved into his own Nest. So because of random happenstance, Damian just never realized that Tim was not a cisgendered guy.)

(It's after midnight now and I'm running out of steam, but I think the next bit is something something, Damian is too young/ his peers find him abrasive and off putting and so he's never real... Seen a pussy up close. And well, Drake is asleep and unlikely to wake up for the next 7 hours at least... So Damian start off just... Satiating his curiosity. Just looking, analyzing the structures and shape, which seems so different in person as opposed to an anatomical drawing in health class. Maybe he carefully moves the blanket and positions Tim's legs so he can have an unobstructed view. Maybe looking turns into some light touching - it's just simple scientific curiosity! It's not like he ever thought that Drake was pretty or paid much attention to when Grandfather would get that far away look on his eyes when talking about Drake and devolve into muttering about pretty, brilliant heirs (which actually made a lot more sense now that he knew what equipment Drake was packing)...

Damian probably doesn't get around to fucking Tim for another night or two, but it's fine because Drake is being strangely... Sweet and trusting, sharing tea with Damian every night and never seeming the question how he got sleepy immediately after.

OR Something like that😅😅😅. Just an idea that popped into my head!

answered out of order:

🥺🥺🥺🥺this is so sweet!!! i try to check my ao3 inbox but sometimes i get sidetracked and forget- i'm so happy you like my fics!!!!! especially the somnophilia ones, since it's one of my top favorite tropes that i love to write about<3333

and for 'drink the honey' i can absolutely see everyone in the family growing to 'take advantage' of tim, all of them thinking they're the first and only people to fuck tim meanwhile tim has known the entire time and revels in how all his brothers and dad all end up doing the same thing of drugging and fucking him <3, he really is so loved <3333

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

[scintillyyy]

hmmm, do you want an opportunity to talk about the de-aged Tim fic?

i would *love* the opportunity to talk about de-aged tim fic

so the idea for this fic has been bouncing in my head for a solid year and a half at least and arose in part from my. general frustration how de-aged fics usually go--usually someone is de-aged to like 5 but acts like a 2 year old or it's just an excuse for baby cuddles (which is fine, but unsatisfying to me personally) or in tim's case in an excuse for people to be oh so sad at how quiet and well behaved he is and aren't jack and janet terrible?? (which is not fine and annoying)

because when it comes to de-aged i want to pick at the meat of what this really means for the people who have to take care of the baby/toddler and how this would be like getting thrown in the deep end. and in tim's case i want this to become dick's problem.

because what happens when alfred buys formula and it turns out tim had a CMPI and he's screaming all night and he needs alimentum or nutramigen and that stuff is sooo gross and smells so bad lol or it turns out he only tolerates super bougie european formula and bruce is there not knowing how to handle it so of course it's dick's job to make sure that someone does the research and competently takes care of baby tim. (i imagine that bruce is very unhelpfully trying to be helpful here in a funny but terrible way here. he gives advice (has no idea what he's talking about). he "does dick a solid" by "taking tim to stroller strides this time so dick could sleep in" (you know that was the day that amy was bringing her lemon poppyseed muffins for the group, bruce. that was dick's muffin, bruce.)). and then once baby tim starts growing into toddler tim--

how does dick have to handle the fact that every time he turns around tim can reach something new in the very not baby proofed manor. he gets a moment of quiet before realizing, shit, it's quiet and runs into the kitchen and tim is sitting on the island and there's a single bite taken out of every single apple. dick goes to a medium in his desperation to talk to janet in the afterlife to find out what his "wawa" is. dick having to deal with tim crying for his mom. tim being a threenager.

tim becoming a little kid and hero-worshiping dick and thinking bruce is just the greatest for taking dick in and dick's jaw can't clench any harder than it already is.

tim at 14 and at least he knows he's deaged and this is fun now but they have to lie to him about his dad until he ages up and remembers.

and tim being 17 and being like "just fyi dick I'm gonna avoid you for the next three weeks (embarrassed) but thanks for taking care of me"

anyways it's just a real time in my head <3

#scintilly ask tag #havendance

[002yb]

I think Jason has a little obsession with Dick's smell, I mean, it's canon Dick smells really good and people can recognize him by smell

My boy Jay is just there, hugging every pillow with his boyfriend scent, trying to memorize his perfume, blushing when the smell makes him remember something that happened last night

Okay but what if it's Jason smelling like Dick that gives away their secret relationship ahhhhhahahaha. No one can really say anything though because they don't want to be the creep that recognizes someone by scent (it's just something they noticed in passing and continued noticing because Dick smells nice and it's distinctive, they swear).

But oh, back up. Lets say Dick is in Blud fulltime. So there's a commute for the booty call. Either Dick will stay over with Jason (and Jason will smell faintly of Dick) or he'll be the one going to Blud (in which case the lingering scent is stronger).

Only in this situation, Bruce can't figure it out. The smell would be familiar, he just can't place why because Dick isn't over very often. When he is - it's as Nightwing and they all make sure to not have any discernible scents to them.

So Bruce is just haunted by this knowing something but not remembering it fully. So he would sit and stew and be broody over it. And Tim, bless him. It's getting in the way of Bruce's productivity so he checks in on what's up. To which Bruce is just like, 'Recently Jason (my darling bb boy) smells different from usual.' And Tim is l: because why the fuck did he ask, okay. And Bruce explains how it's familiar, but it's not Jason and - oh, god. The realization that his darling boy is sleeping with someone that Bruce knows well would be gutting.

Meanwhile Tim, knowing full well that it's Dick giving Jason the d, plays dumb like no tomorrow. No involvement. Just judgment because really, sniffing out J's boytoy? That's over-the-top dramatic even for Bruce.

But Bruce wouldn't be deterred because that's a good idea, Tim ('it was a warning that this is w e i r d, Bruce'), thank you.

And then Bruce promptly goes about trying to discreetly smell all his colleagues and associates - even some of his adversaries which is dangerous, but the hazards are worth it because Bruce needs to know who's screwing his boy.

Of course Jason picks up on Bruce having lost his mind. Or maybe Tim complains to him about it because it's a lot (even if Tim wouldn't be above doing it -- even if he had done it when he first recognized the smell, himself LOL).

'It's Dick.' Jason tells him, point blank.

'Yes, I'm aware of your proclivities.' Bruce would tell him, nonplussed by the inferred crassness. Just. World's greatest detective extraordinaire. Meanwhile Tim would be in the background, embarrassed for his mentor because wow, Bruce.

Needless to say this goes on for a while. Perhaps indefinitely. At least until Dick comes around the manor as himself. At which point Bruce would surprise pikachu meme face in that stoic Bruce way.

Also, I recognize that I went on a tangent of Bruce being an embarrassing dad hahahaha. As far as dickjay content goes, what you wrote is so cute though. 10/10!! Thank you for such a cute submission, anon. Jason curling up around something that smells like Dick in Dick's absence is so sweet. ;U;

#dickjay #jaydick

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: angst

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

a fun add-on that asten comes with is that to avoid vulnerability, every emotion turns into violent rage over time :) buy one get a nico free!

part twelve

❝ TARGETED ❞

SATURDAY — AUGUST 8 — 2:15AM

BENTLEY WOKE UP TUCKED INTO THE HOSPITAL BED WITH DICK. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he did vaguely recall Damian excusing himself from the medbay soon after Bentley started crying. (Which would have been humiliating, given that most of the family was down there, if he could remember any of it without a thick layer of brain fog.)

He was still being held in a patented Dick-Grayson-death-grip, similar to the aftermath of Dick’s nightmare. Everything felt a little bit lighter now. Different. Like Bentley wasn’t one verbal display of affection away from losing all self control and crumbling into a bunch of weepy pieces on the nearest available Wayne. He felt… pretty okay, at least right now, being held by someone who loved him for real.

The medbay had been emptied of it's inhabitants, all except for Bruce, who was still next to the hospital bed in a chair but… asleep? At least he looked asleep. It didn’t look very comfortable, actually, his head was down on his chest and his arms were crossed, but Bentley didn’t dare wake him. After all, Bruce had taken it upon himself to stay awake with Bentley ever since sleeping got hard, thanks to the Secret Keeper. And he probably needed it just as badly as Bentley did.

He wasn’t sure what time it was, but given the nap in the library earlier and however long he’d spent in the cave’s medbay, this was probably the most sleep he’d gotten since the whole nightmare incident. (Who knew all he needed was Jason and Dick to make it happen?)

It was probably past midnight, if Bentley had to guess. Some things in the cave looked moved around, and the Batcomputer was on, and he could see a few trackers bouncing around on it. Barbara wasn’t there, though. Bruce had called off patrol since Dick fell unconscious, but now it looked like he’d okayed it again. (Or maybe he didn’t know. Which was a good possibility, given the two trackers Bentley could see were gray and orange, which meant Tim and Cass. They were pretty sneaky when it came down to it, and Bruce had been caught up with Dick, but then again… Bruce was literally Batman.)

He didn’t think about it much, because then came the bane of his current existence, the reason he woke up in the first place. 

He had to pee.

It took a few minutes, but Bentley wiggled himself out of Dick’s grip and off of the hospital bed with a big stretch, without waking him or Bruce. Dick was still attached to a few machines, but a couple of the wires and tubes had been taken off, and he looked… peaceful. It had been a while since he looked that way.

Bentley padded quietly across the cave, gazing at the batcomputer as he went by. The map looked different, like they weren’t exactly in Gotham. He furrowed his brows and stepped up to the desk, and scanning the aerial view map, he suddenly knew exactly where they were.

Why were Tim and Cass in Drew?

In an attempt to get closer, to see what buildings they were near and if he could remember them from his limited time outside of Whittaker Estate, he bumped the panel and the screen changed.

Instead of the map, several tabs came up, the largest of which looked like some sort of spreadsheet lined with names. At the top, it read: Case File 107A9, Potential Targets.

Beneath that was a list of forty-one names. (Bentley only knew that because they were numbered.) They were each highlighted with different colors, either green, yellow, or red. The key in the top corner said that green meant alive, yellow meant missing, and red meant dead.

Twenty-two of them were red. Seventeen of them were yellow. Two were green.

The only two names highlighted in green were Dick Grayson and Bentley Whittaker.

Out of all the people who’d seen the Secret Keeper, he and Dick were the only two left?

Each name on the list had an arrow beside it, and just out of curiosity, Bentley navigated down to his own and tapped it.

Night terror about the Secret Keeper — details not yet shared, no secondary sighting or dream. No concerning adverse effects.

He tapped on the name above his own for reference: Olivia Wright. It was yellow.

Dream of the Secret Keeper in different places around her home. Recorded sighting of the Secret Keeper in her yard the next morning. Olivia went missing as of eight pm that night — has yet to be found dead or alive.

He moved from hers to Dick’s.

Three days of unconsciousness following a face to face visual with the Secret Keeper. Unconsciousness was accompanied by hyper-realistic dreams; mostly regarding Bentley Whittaker and his previous homelife. All the events he experienced while unconscious have been confirmed to have happened in the same consecutive manner as his dreams. Grayson stated first-hand that it was “like being able to see someone else’s memories.” More research and interviews are to be done regarding that statement.

Bentley frowned. There was no telling what he’d seen if he had really been shown some of Bentley’s memories. Dick’s reaction when he came downstairs made a little more sense now, though.

He didn’t even try to make the tabs go away, in fear of screwing something up, instead he just left the computer as it was and ventured back up to the Manor. (Yeah, there was a bathroom in the cave, but he wanted to get his phone and answer Asten and Nico before they thought he was missing.)

So he went through the entryway, up the stairs, and into his room. The Manor was quiet. He guessed at least Damian and Duke were home and in bed, and Tim and Cass were gone. Maybe that meant Jason was upstairs, too? He wasn’t sure.

He had eighty-one unread messages. 

He sent a quick im okay message to the group (they had indeed been talking about Bentley going missing.) and almost immediately, he got a text back from Asten. Which was confusing, given it was two-twenty-one am.

Bentley was all it said. 

Yeah? Was what he texted back.

A few seconds later, his phone started ringing with Asten’s caller ID. He answered it and brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Dude,” Asten sighed. It sounded like his breathing was a little off, like he was running or something.

“Are you okay?”

“I think I’m about to die,”

A surge of panic stabbed through Bentley’s chest. “What?”

“I’m walking to Nico’s and…” Bentley heard him curse under his breath, and the wind blew in the microphone and made a loud noise. “She’s staring at me.”

“Who?”

“The Secret Keeper,”

Bentley chewed on his lip. Well crap.

“How far are you? From Nico’s?” He tried, turning on his heel and retracing his steps back through the Manor.

“Like, an hour. I’m just getting to the edge of downtown,” Asten replied. “I had a dream. About her. I don’t… I guess leaving my apartment was dumb but… Nico wouldn’t pick up, and I didn’t…”

Bentley ran a hand through his hair, jogging into Bruce’s office and through the door hidden behind the grandfather clock.

“Oh-oh my God. She’s coming,”

“I’m getting Bruce. Is… there somewhere you can go? A restaurant?” 

The muffled sound of wind and heavy footfalls echoed from the other end. “Everythings closed,” He responded, panic evident in his tone. “Bentley, she’s following me.”

Bentley pushed the close door button on the elevator and begged it to move faster. Asten muttered something in Portuguese. He couldn’t tell exactly, but it sounded like merda, merda,  merda.

“Oh my God,”

“I’m getting Bruce,” Bentley replied, as if that would be very much help. The elevator let him out and he double-timed it down the stairs, skipping a few and nearly falling flat on his face before he made it into the cave. He jogged into the medbay, careful not to be too loud. Dick and Bruce were still asleep, but it didn't matter, his footfalls woke Bruce when he got near anyways.

“Bentley,” He glanced around with a few blinks. “What’s going on?”

“Asten, the Secret Keepers chasing him,” Bentley replied in a rush, holding the phone toward Bruce. “He’s on the phone.”

Bruce took the little device without hesitation, rising from his chair and walking out of the medbay. “Asten? This is Bruce. Can you tell me where you are?”

Heavy breaths came from the other side. “I-I’m on the edge of downtown, uh… there’s… there’s a library.”

Bruce made his way to the batcomputer and made the tabs disappear in an instant. The map expanded and as he typed, pins appeared on all the libraries. “Gotham Library? Whitehouse Library?”

“Whitehouse,” Asten replied with a shaky exhale. “Mr. Wayne, I had a dream about her. I-I think she’s going to kill me.”

“I’m coming to get you, okay? Go inside a public place if you can,” Bruce ordered. He typed a few more buttons and a red, flashing tracker appeared on the map near the Whitehouse library pin. He muted the call so Asten couldn’t hear what he was saying and put Bentley’s phone on the desk. 

“Everything’s closed!” Asten replied. Bruce said nothing, but opened a drawer and pulled out an earpiece, shoving it in his ear. “Red Robin, Orphan, can you hear me? Facial recognition has picked up the Secret Keeper south of you, and she’s pursuing a child.”

A silent moment passed, and Bentley crossed his fingers.

“I hear you, B! Send coordinates!” Tim’s voice came back almost immediately.

Bentley watched Bruce unmute Asten’s call. “I’m on my way, just keep moving, and look for a place to go inside of or a person you can tell.” Then he muted it again. “Sending coordinates.”

A ding erupted from the computer. “Got them! Going now. You meeting us there?”

“Yes, but I’ll be in my civilian clothes. The boy being pursued is Bentley’s friend, and I’m going to pick him up from you.”

“Don’t hang up!” Asten shouted.

“Okay. We’re on our way,” Tim clarified.

“Leaving the computer, keeping my comm,” Bruce stated. He un-muted the call again. “We’re not hanging up, I’m on my way, okay?”

Bentley glanced up at the screen, watching the gray and orange trackers moving at a steady, quick pace toward the flashing red one.

“Please hurry,”

Bruce made for the stairs and Bentley stayed on his heels, following him up and into the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, Alfred was entering the office.

Bentley’s nerves were buzzing like bees in his veins. How many more people was the Secret Keeper going to take?

“Is something amiss, Master Bruce? I swore I heard someone running through the house,”

“Yes,” Bruce replied, muting the call again. “The Secret Keeper is chasing down one of Bentley’s friends. Red Robin and Orphan are already on their way. Would you mind taking Bentley and going back downstairs with Dick?”

“Of course,” Alfred replied. Bentley furrowed his brow, jogging behind Bruce as he made for the door of the office.

“But I want to go with you!” He exclaimed. He wasn’t really sure why he wanted to go with him. The Secret Keeper was terrifying, and he never wanted to see her in his life. But something about Asten, the same fiery-eyed Brazilian that had knocked out the school's worst bully with a textbook not twelve hours ago, being so scared and hopeless on the phone made him feel like he should go.

Bruce glanced back at him momentarily, and his eyes flicked to Alfred, too. “It’s too dangerous, bud. I can't risk getting you near her.”

Bentley deflated. “But I… want to go, Bruce. Please let me come. I won’t get out of the car.”

“Bentley-“

“Please?”

For a solid five seconds, they stared at each other.

“She’s getting closer,” Asten said from the phone. “She’s coming.”

“Tim and Cass will already be there, it’ll be fine, he’ll be expecting me to come,” Bentley reasoned. 

“I’m coming, Asten,” Bruce said into the phone, only unmuting it long enough to say that. Then he muted it again. “Bentley.”

They stared at each other again, long and hard, and finally, something inside of Bruce caved. He huffed lightly and turned on his heel toward the front door. “Fine. But you’re not getting out of the car, period.”

“Okay,” Bentley replied, jogging behind him. (He suddenly walked really fast.)

They made for the garage and got in the car in mere seconds (Bentley wasn’t even wearing shoes.), and they left the Manor immediately. Bentley had hardly finished buckling himself into the passenger's seat before they were pulling out.

“Where are you now, Asten?” Bruce questioned, putting Bentley’s phone in a little holder on his dash.

“Going around the library,”

He muted it again, and brought a hand up to his earpiece. “Red Robin, how far are you from the location?”

“Four minutes!” Bentley vaguely heard Tim’s voice from the little speaker in Bruce’s ear. He put the library on the car’s GPS, and they were fifteen minutes out.

The drive passed in a flash. Bentley’s brain was spinning, spinning, and Bruce was talking to Tim and then talking to Asten and somehow making sure Asten never heard him talking to Tim, while driving at the same time, and it was kind of blowing his mind. (But what else should he have expected from Batman?)

He only came back to reality when the call with Asten suddenly ended, and Tim’s voice came: “I’ve got the kid. He’s shaken up, but uninjured. Secret Keeper is nowhere to be found.”

“Keep him with you until I get there,” Bruce responded. Bentley watched the streetlights pass in blurs as they drove, anxiously tapping his legs until they finally pulled up in front of Whitehouse Library. 

Bruce pulled Bentley’s phone from the holder and navigated to the contacts. He tapped on Asten’s and hit the call button. It rang once, twice.

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Asten? We're at the library.”

“Okay, I… I’m coming. Uh, Red Robins here, so… he’s coming, too.” Asten replied.

Bentley saw them round the corner of the big white library. Asten had his phone pressed to his ear (Bentley pretended he couldn’t see it shaking from the car.) and Red Robin was next to him, with an arm around his shoulders.

“Alright. I see you,” Bruce replied, and the call ended.

The pair approached the vehicle, and Bentley couldn’t really tell what anyone was saying, but Tim talked to Bruce for a moment. Bentley unbuckled and climbed over the center console into the backseat. 

It wasn’t a moment later and Bruce took Asten by the shoulder and brought him around to the backseat on the left, popping the door open so he could climb in. He was shaking, and breathing really hard. It was nearly freezing outside, but given that he’d just been chased by a supervillain and kidnapper, Bentley assumed the trembling wasn’t just from the cold. He was crying, too — only a little bit. Every ounce of confidence and carefree calmness he normally carried with him was gone. 

Bruce closed his door, and turned to speak to Tim. 

Bentley just watched Asten closely, debating on whether he should say something or not. After a few moments of contemplation, he settled on resting a hand on his right shoulder. He flinched.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He muttered quietly. Asten shook his head no, bringing his hands up to wipe at his eyes with the sleeves of his jacket.

Bruce popped his door open and climbed back in the car, turning to look at them both. His grayish eyes flicked between them for a few moments before he questioned:

“You’re okay, Asten? Not hurt at all?” 

“I’m fine,” Asten sniffed. His voice was shaking just like his breaths had been. “Once Red Robin showed up she just kind of disappeared, I...”

Bentley watched with terrible pity as Asten scrubbed at his face, trying to wipe off the tears that were still rapidly falling. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. I’m just glad you’re not hurt,” Bruce stated, turning and buckling up. “Why were you out walking this late, bud?”

Asten sniffled, staring down at his jeans. “Just… uh… I had a dream. About her. And my uncle is out of town working and I… didn’t want to be by myself. I was going to Nico’s.”

Bruce nodded in sympathy. “You’ve been home alone?”

Asten nodded.

“Alright. In that case, how would you feel if I took you back to the Manor with us? Or would you rather me take you to Nico’s house?”

A moment of silence passed. “Manors fine.” Asten said, probably because he didn’t want to wake up Nico’s whole family in the middle of the night, too.

“Alright,”

The vehicle fell quiet, all except Asten’s occasional little hiccups and sniffles. Bentley wished he could make it all go away — he hated when people cried.

“Do you want a hug?” He whispered. (What? He didn’t know much else that he could provide.)

It took a moment of consideration, but after a few seconds, Asten’s head came to rest on his left shoulder.

It wasn’t really a hug, but it was what Asten wanted, and that was fine. He saw Bruce’s eyes flick to them in the rearview mirror.

Bentley sucked in a breath. “I had a dream about her, too. That’s why I didn’t come to school.” He admitted quietly.

He felt Asten’s head move slightly. “Have you seen her since?”

Bentley shook his head. “No.”

A moment of silence passed.

“I hate her,” Asten hissed. “I want my face to be the last thing she ever sees.”

Bentley drew in a breath.

Taking down the Secret Keeper would pretty much be a one-way-ticket into deserving to be a Wayne.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

#batfamily #batboys #batman #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #barbara gordon #oracle #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #cassandra cain #orphan #tim drake #red robin #stephanie brown #spoiler #duke thomas #signal #damian al ghul #damian wayne #dc robin #robin #oc; bentley whittaker #oc; bentley #ov; the secret keeper #ov; secret keeper #ov; charlie reins #oc; asten #oc; asten evans

[roxineedstosleep]

since bruharvey seems to be rising again (I've been a fan since 2014) id like to see a drabble with sugar baby/trophy husband bruce pls. preferably with baby batkids who adore harvey, just like bruce, and hate when he has to leave for work. even if harveys like, who's gonna spoil you little brats if I don't go

Harvey knows he shouldn't, not really. But he had actually managed to get through all his accumulated telework time and was obliged to go to his office for at least three weeks at a time… face-to-face.

It's not that he hated working from home, in fact, if he can feel pretentious, he likes working from there.

He loves having to just wear his coats and shirt, because he can wear his pyjama bottoms and be comfortable there for the hours he works.

He finishes as early as possible and then spends time with his husband and all their beautiful children.

But the pandemic is definitely over now, and he himself can't deny that going back to the office gives a different touch to his work. Not to mention that there are meetings that are better handled in person. Even more so if his gorgeous husband refuses to attend his own company's meetings and it's up to him to ask the Wayne Corp representative what to do and what not to do.

But Harvey is getting sidetracked.

What was important now was the following.

Harvey is an adult, an adult with his own money… and traditionally speaking (within 50's thinking, of course) he is the man of the house.

And as such, he shouldn't have to hide in order to leave for work and be on time, right? Right? Right?

…. Well, he doesn't.

Harvey now finds himself in a terribly incriminating position. He's about to leave the mansion, he only has to take 5 more steps if he wants to get to his office in time and in 30 minutes he can get on with the work he needs to do.

The impediment?

Well, it depends a bit on everyone in the mansion.

If his husband, first of all, doesn't want to monopolise him like an octopus. When he has to take advantage of the fact that his husband is still half asleep, he manages to escape by giving him cuddles and kisses all over his face. After that, he has to make sure that his husband is nice and warm between the sheets.

Then along comes his first child, Dick. Who won't hesitate to hang on to him like a little monkey, trying to show him how he does the pirouettes and jumps all over the furniture in the place, and then call Jason. Jumping like a kangaroo on his little brother's cot bed.

Jason, who is not really a morning child, would be crying inconsolably because Dick would throw himself on him in his cot-bed. (That's when he takes advantage of the fact that Bruce isn't a morning person either and makes his second son into a teddy bear so they can both fall asleep together).

Now that Jason and Bruce are out of the waking zone, he takes advantage of the fact that Dick is still a little jealous of his younger brother and, by the way, casually mentions that Bruce still has his other arm free. Which will quickly make his eldest son go and want to hog his sleeping father.

One husband, and two sons away.

He must take care of his other 2 children.

Tim, his little Timbo. With him it's a bit curious, the infant wakes up almost at the same time as him and only goes to sleep when he is back home. Basically, screwing up his sleep schedule. So, what Harvey has to do every day is simply leave the mansion in his pyjamas, because when Tim notices from his cot that he's still wearing pyjamas, it gives him the feeling that he's just hanging around the mansion before he goes back to Bruce in his bedroom.

Does it work? Most of the time, he just thanks the newspaper service endlessly, who seem to read his need and call to tell him that "there was a delivery failure". Nothing crazy.

"Dad's just going to pick up the paper Timbers, why don't you see if Damian isn't bothered by your big brother? You know how upset he gets if he's woken up before breakfast."

And now… for Harvey's biggest challenge… his only missing son.

Damian. The barely one-year-old baby.

Damian, to his and his husband's misfortune… was like Coraline's evil kitten.

He used to show up whenever and wherever you least expected him to. It doesn't matter if he has the monitor on, or if they put a little balloon on his custom-made onesies, when you least expect it Damian will be there crawling around or demanding (not asking for) total devotion.

He loves all his children equally, but Damian seems to have quickly outgrown the Baba Bruce stage and is now terribly obsessed with being pampered and cared for exclusively by him.

And therein lies the detail. Damian is learning to walk in a running manner. And that has made him unstoppable. So now he finds himself in that awkward situation.

Before, when he got past Tim, Harvey could run up the driveway and go to work. Now? No way.

Because along comes Tim, now awake for good, carrying an annoyed Damian… both of them looking at him with their big baby eyes, waiting to see if he's really going to walk out the door.

It is in a difficult situation. If Damian starts crying, Tim will cry out of sympathy. Which will make Jason wake up and cry because they won't let him sleep.

Which will allow Dick to wake up trying to calm his other brother down, but knowing him that will lead to Bruce waking up and making all his kids and his husband also notice he's going to work.

His briefcase from the office is already on the trolley, his suit and freshly pressed tie are there too. Everything was ready.

"Baba"

Oh Fuck.

"Baba, bed, baba bed."

"Oh habibi, you know you should be in your cot, it's not time for breakfast" he still has time, he woke up extremely early today, and the office is not due for another hour. He can get Damian to sleep and get Tim to join him.

"Baba No!" and Damina's crying was what caused the chaos.

Tim quickly began to cry and demand to be held too. And though he tried, even daring to give them that terrible binky he was so insistent on taking away, he had already wasted too much time.

His husband, his beautiful husband, was now coming into his sight. Bruce was clearly upset holding a sobbing Jason, and another clearly upset Richard.

"Where do you think you're going?" she hears Bruce ask, "I thought you were staying all day."

"I got a call and something happened at the office, I need to check it out."

"Going in your pyjamas? How urgent is it?"

"Yes, it is."

"But daddy always goes out in his pajamas daddy" says Tim... and well, if Harvey survives this moment, he might consider cutting Tim out of his will... or not buying him anything on his next trip to Disney. The point is that Tim has really left him in his grave.

He knows he'll regret it if he doesn't get out in time. But, if he wins at least 4 cases today, maybe, maybe Bruce and the kids will forgive him for what he's about to do. He'll make it up to them later.

"Honey, I adore you with all my being, but I really must get to the office" and before Bruce can even say anything, he quickly leaves Damian and Tim in his arms and runs the few steps he has to the front door. He starts the car like a fiend and gets to his office as soon as possible.

Bruce threatened to divorce him for leaving him and the kids? Yep.

Did he calm down when I tried to explain to him that spoiling them meant having to go to work a couple of days at the office? Not at all, he even threatened him and the whole office to be bought out by Wayne Corp.

Did he calm down when he promised them a compensatory family day at Disney Paris when he finishes his days in the office? Maybe a little.

Did he definitely calm down when he told them they could have a romantic dinner at that new restaurant in the historic city centre? Yep. That's when he did calm down.

Although, Harvey couldn't say no when his husband and kids showed up at noon, demanding to spend their lunch with him.

#bruharvey #bruce wayne #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #harvey dent #bruce x harvey #Batfam fluff

[this-is-all-unreal]

My Dear Friend

Part 8

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions death, suicide, killing and gets kinda dark in general.

    

     Months had passed and for the first time in a long time I felt almost normal. Everyone seemed to be doing a lot better. Jason has taken up being a vigilante again. Barbara and I have become a bit more close. She's taken up the moniker Oracle which I think is the coolest sounding hero name ever. Her and Dick seem to be getting really close though. Felix thinks they are dating but I don't know about that. It's summer break now so Tim and I have gotten to hang out more. It works out well because both of us have horrible sleep schedules so we tend to be up at the same time. I'm awful at the games he plays so I normally just watch. It's been awesome, incredible actually.

         Today Bruce wanted to take me out for some ice cream. Out of everyone he's probably the person I have spent the least time with. It's not on purpose we just don't have too much in common and he works alot both as Batman and Bruce Wayne.

           I sat in the car waiting for him. He wanted to take one of the smaller cars so he didn't have to bother Alfred with driving us. I don't think I have ever seen Bruce drive well, never seen him drive as Bruce Wayne. He opens the door and gets in. 

         "Okay all set?" He asked as he started the car up. I nodded as I pulled on my seat belt. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the seat belt behind Bruce buckle itself in. I guess Felix is ready as well. We didn't talk much on the way there. It's all the same to me. I don't think you need to speak to enjoy your time with someone. It's almost nice to not have to.

       He pulled over outside of an ice cream shop and turned the car off and looked over at me.

       "Hey, what would you think about talking to a friend of mine? He's a doctor. He might be able to help you." It was so random I didn't say anything at first I wasn't sure what to say. 

        "I feel okay. I'm not sick." 

        "No I know you are not sick I don't mean that kind of doctor Margaret. I mean a psychiatrist, you know what a psychiatrist is right?" I knew he wasn't trying to be condescending but it still stung a little.

         "Of course I know what a psychiatrist is but I don't need one. I'm fine.

        "Where'd this come from? Does he think you're crazy or something?"

         "I really think he could help you. He has a specialty in… unique cases like your own." As he speaks Felix breathed on the windshield and wrote a big crooked "no" in the condensation. Bruce looked at it and frowned a little. Before looking back at me. "Please Margaret, you have been doing really well recently. I just want to make sure It can stay this way for your sake. You've really come out of your shell in such a short time. 

      "I don't want to, can we just go home Please?" I ask looking out the window at the passing people. Bruce took a deep breath before speaking again.

        "I wanted it to be your choice. He's coming over later this evening. You don't have to talk to him but just sit down with him. I'm going to go in and get some ice cream. I'll bring you out a cone." He says as he opens the car door to leave. As he does, a large creak forms down the windshield right through the disappearing no Felix wrote. I didn't say anything I didn't need to for once Felix took the words right out of my mouth. Bruce looked at it and sucked at his teeth before getting out. "That's coming out of your allowance." He says before closing the door. 

        "He thinks he can get away with this? You are fine. He's doing it on purpose he wants you to be angry he's an adrenaline junkie he probably loves it!"

        "I don't think so." I say softly as Felix gets more worked up. 

       "You can't talk to this guy. He's going to think you are batshit. I know you're not but he won't believe that. What if he convinces Bruce you need to go to a hospital or something?"

       "Relax, I'm not going to talk to him. It's the safest way to handle this."

        Bruce comes back with two cones. One fully chocolate and the other vanilla chocolate twist. He handed me the twist. 

        "I wasn't sure which to get you so I got both." He says as he gets in. We start our drive home. If the ride here was quiet this one was silent. You could hear the road under the car. I was going to let my ice cream melt in protest but it started to run onto my hands and I hate being sticky so I give up on my short lived hunger strike and start to eat. Bruce finished his in record time and was now tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the music on the radio. He seemed to be in a pretty good mood all things considered. 

         Just as I was getting to the best part of the ice cream, the cone. Felix grabbed it and pushed it against Bruce's chest. He's caught off guard and almost drove us off the road. 

        "Hey! God-" he stops himself and I hand him a napkin from the center console. He starts to try and clean his very expensive looking tie while trying to keep an eye on the road. "I guess I should have gotten you just vanilla." He says in a gruff voice. 

       "He's not happy." 

       "Yeah I can see that. Well he just has to get over it Margaret. This is good for you. Both of you." Just as he says this the wheel is jerked to the left and Bruce has to pull it back quickly before we hit another car in the next lane. 

       "Does he want to kill us? Really because I'm making you do something he doesn't like, he's going to kill us all?" Bruce looked over at me but I know the question wasn't really for me. 

      "Tell him I'll do it, I'll kill you both right here. We can't go back to a hospital Margaret. Tell him!"

      "He doesn't want to go back to a hospital." I say as Bruce struggles for the wheel. 

       "You are not going anywhere. Any treatment will be handled at the house. He's a friend Margaret, he wouldn't do that." Felix lays on the horn but stops pulling at the wheel. He pushes the button to take the top down and it flies open. We come up the hill to the driveway blaring on the horn with the top opening and closing over and over. Bruce gets out. Ice cream falls from his chest and onto his shiny shoes. 

        "Can you go get Alfred to help me clean this?" He asks as he kicks the cold treat off of his foot. I walked in but the horn had already alerted Alfred.

        "Master Bruce, what did you do?" Asked Alfred as he reached him. I slipped inside and it would see Felix followed because the horn finally stopped. I walked into one of the many living rooms and sat down in an armchair. 

       "Do you think if I die you would too?" The question had never really came up. Sometimes it feels like Felix is attached to me like hair or maybe even skin but other times it's like he's completely his own being that is just hitching a ride. I never thought what would happen to him if I was gone only what I'd do if he disappeared.

       "Probably but I don't care."

        "So you'd be willing to make that choice for me? That's really messed up. I don't want to die. Even if we have to go to a hospital."

         "You only say that because you have the luxury of being medicated out of your stupid little mind. Do you know what happens to me when you take antipsychotics? Purgatory doesn't begin to describe it. What I go through makes Sisyphus's rock seem like a piece of cake. On top of that I am surrounded by nutjobs and babbling idiots. I would choose non-existence over that hell-ish experience any day." To say I was scared that Felix might kill us one day was an understatement. Arkham was the first time I was medicated. I noticed he had been different, weaker while we were in there. I didn't understand the rock thing he said but it must not be good. I never thought a place like that would affect him so negatively 

       "But I don't want to die. I don't want to be committed but what's so bad about it you are willing to do that?"

      "Just drop it. I don't want to talk about it anymore. You have my opinion on the matter. You get us put away, it will be the last thing you ever do." I just nod in response. I didn't want to work him up anymore. 

     "There you are." Bruce says as he walks past the archway. "I wasn't yelling at you about the ice cream. I was just surprised." He comes around the chair to look at me.

       "I know. I didn't think you were." He ruffles up my hair before walking off to presumably change. You could tell he's only raised boys. His idea of affection is a strong pat on the back or messing up your hair. It was kinda nice though. I pat my hair back down and go upstairs to see what Tim's up to. 

       He was cleaning his keyboard when I came in. 

      "Oh just in time I was gonna play something, You in?" He asked as he put the can of compressed air away and sat down at his chair. 

       "No I'm okay I'll just watch." I say as I sit on the edge of his bed to get a clear view of the screen. He frowned a little. 

        "I don't mean this to come off bad but you don't really like to do anything." His tone wasn't mean or spiteful I knew he just didn't understand. "Like don't you have any hobbies? You don't really like to read, you don't like to play video games, you aren't really into sports." I kinda shrug not sure how to answer the question or if he even wanted it answered. "Why don't I help you find a hobby! Yeah it could be fun. You have to like something. I'll start working on a list of hobbies for you to try." He looks down at his keyboard. "After this game I'll make the list actually." He says as he returns to his game. 

      He wasn't wrong now that I think about it. Nothing ever really sounds fun. Stuff is either okay or not okay. 

      "It's because you're boring." Felix is probably not wrong either. When I was really young I liked dinosaurs and swimming. I had different hobbies but as I've gotten older things just don't seem to hold my interest anymore.

      "I think I like swimming."

      "Great, we can start there. I'll meet you in the pool. Just give me like 20 minutes." Tim says as he leans closer to the screen to focus. I got up and left him to it. 

        Thankfully Barbara and I had gone to the beach a few weeks ago so I already had a suit. I got changed and headed to the outside pool. The weather was too hot for me but I guess the water will help with that. I got in and floated around. I heard the back door open and Tim came trotting out in flippers and goggles. It was hard not to laugh as he plugged his nose and jumped in. 

        "Yeah, I think this counts as a hobby." He says as he wades over to me. "You said you used to like swimming? What made you stop?" He asked as he floated on his back. 

        "Felix tried to drown a boy at the local pool so we had to stop going." Tim stopped floating on his back and stood up straight. His eyes scanned his field of view like he was looking for something.

        "Oh um well I'm not the strongest swimmer so could you ask him not to do that to me?"

      "He's harmless besides a caffeine overdose will take this kid out before I can."

      "I think you are okay, the boy was trying to push me off the diving board."

      "So Felix kinda protects you?"

      "Yeah most of the time. It just depends. Sometimes he just likes to mess with me and others but when I need him he's always there." If only I could tell him about the conversation Felix and I had earlier. It's so much more complicated than I could ever explain with words. 

        "Well that's cool. Always having someone looking out for you. It's an added bonus that no one can see him. He's like an assassin." 

        "Yeah he's alright." I say before dunking my head under the water to swim a bit. I didn't want to talk about Felix too much. All it takes is one wrong word and Tim will need a lifeguard. 

           He takes the hint and swims around with me for a bit. Wet footprints make their way to one of the pool chairs. Water drips off of a vaguely human shape as it sits on the pool chair.

        "Is that him? Was he in the pool?" Tim asks with a big smile. 

         "Probably just had his feet in the water. I don't really know." I say with a shrug. It was a little off putting that Tim seemed to be so interested in Felix. It wasn't the normal reaction to say the least but I think it might keep him safe. When Felix is looking for someone to bully. He likes to go for the weakest. He's like a lion trying to pick out the slowest gazelle for an easy meal. Thankfully none of the family seems to be easily scared.

         "You ever have a boyfriend?" The question hit me like a ton of bricks.

       "What? I um well-"

       "I need advice. It's not really something I can take to one of the guys." He says as he pulls himself up on the edge of the pool and sits down.

       "Advice on what?" I ask, trying to ready myself for whatever might come out of his mouth next.

        "How sweet he's got a crush. He's gotta be real messed up to think you're cute."

       "There is this guy from school I think I might like but I don't want to say anything because he might not like me back." He says as he pushes his dripping bangs out of his eyes. The amount of relief I felt was unreal. But I wasn't sure how to answer. 

        "He couldn't have asked a worse person." Felix seemed to be enjoying this somewhat awkward situation. 

         "Maybe ask Barbara. She seems like she'd be good at this kind of thing." 

          "No way she's too old she will tell me to do what I think is right or to follow my heart. The guy's in my friend group so I can't ask any of my school friends. What would you do?" He looked down at me. My stomach was doing flips. What if I gave him bad advice and messed this up for him. I had never really felt that way about someone before. I don't even think I have ever had a crush before.

       "Yeah go on, give this poor sap some love life advice. He's screwed."

        "Well If it was me I'd tell him. The what if would be worse than the potential rejection personally."

         "You are such a liar. You don't even tell the waitress your order is wrong at a restaurant. Don't lie to him." Tim nods his head as he thinks for a moment.

        "Well actually I was hoping you'd tell me not to tell him so I wouldn't have to." He laughs as splashes some water at me. 

         "Hey! I thought you wanted advice!" I say as I splash him back. He jumps back in and a full blown splash fight is started. Moments like these didn't necessarily feel natural to me. Felix and his unpredictable Behavior made it hard for me to relax around others but I felt like I was getting closer to normal day by day.

          Bruce walks out and stands a safe distance away from the flying water. 

          "Margaret, Margaret!" He calls over our laughter. "It's time to get out of the pool and around for your appointment." His tone wasn't one to be challenged. Tim hops out and dries off. It was getting a little too dark to be swimming anyhow. That doesn't mean I was happy to get out and get dressed for this appointment. 

           I sat in the family room waiting for this intruder to come and try to speak to pick my brain. I gripped the small turtle toy in my hand. I liked feeling its bumpy shell with my thumb. I heard Bruce speaking to another man I didn't recognize. They were whispering too low for me to hear but nothing was too quiet for Felix. 

         "Bruce is ratting you out about the car ride."

         "Ratting me out? You did it all."

         "All the same to him. This guy's trying to be all understanding. He's saying it's natural for a hostel reaction to a change that she sees as threatening. He thinks he's so smart." Felix almost hissed as he spoke about this man. 

      "What does he look like?" 

      "A loser."

      "Very funny. What are they saying now?"

      "Shh here they come act normal!"

#dc comics #fanfic #oc stuff #slight yandere #batman #platonic batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfam #dick grayson #tim drake #red robin