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dairy-farmer · 1 year

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school rule breaker!tim and principal/dean!bruce

one sentence, tim has special access to all the rules he breaks. why? he has access to the dean, so... it's a win win for tim. tim failing some subjects despite him being a mathematical genius and the only way to pass is to hook up with the dean.

👀👀👀👀👀 bruce as a principal has caught my attention!!!!!!

an au where bruce decided to take a more direct approach in his civilian work as well and decides to become the principal of a school in an area of gotham in the most need.

of course working with kids who are their most influential period of their lives can be good but it also shows him the worst sides of people in his day and night life and sometimes its hard to keep things in perspective when he has to nearly choke out three teenage boys for locking a freshman girl in the bathroom and trying to "go all the way" with her.

bruce is jaded. its hard having to get up every day knowing that so few people make the right choices in life when so many more make the wrong ones. bruce tries to do the right thing. instituting school policies across the district. free school lunches and breakfast, after and before school care so parents of young children can get to and from work. scholarships upon scholarships upon scholarships. bruce knows he's in a positon of privilege. he goes home to an almost $100 million dollar home, both his sons went to an elite private school because bruce would never send them to the kind of school he was the principal of.

sometimes bruce wonders if he should've just been a brainless, airheaded socialite as his civilian cover. at least that way he wouldn't have to deal with calling the school security guard into the room every time a parent marched into his office threatening him for suspending their son or daughter. at least that way he wouldn't have to deal with vicki's constant 'white savior complex' articles about him as if bruce wasn't fully aware of how the majority of the student in his his school were people of color.

maybe bruce was in over his head doing this. there were just some things he couldn't understand, some things he couldn't relate to. he would never know what its like to grow up the way many of his students did and try as he might some of them were going to go down paths that they'd decided on long before they met bruce.

bruce tries to keep as many of them in school, tries to push the importance of how education is one of the very few ways to push out of poverty. but...he can't just pick them all up out of bed and glue them to their chairs even though attendance did increase after bruce started the 'walk to school together!' program.

bruce knows he nears the end of his rope and after jason's death and he takes a few weeks off to grieve...his return is not met with sympathy.

children can be callous and cruel especially ones who were hardened by the world.

bruce does not raise his hands to any of the students but his rage at the thugs he fights as batman is twice is bad.

the students sense he's not willing to allow them to get away with anything. detention is full both before and after school and students stay in their classrooms because bruce patrols like a wolf on the prowl ready to snap at any student wandering the halls without a pass.

tension is high in the school and it feels like more and more fights start breaking out.

until one day principal wayne is suddenly....calmer. more steadied.

it's like they're in the eye of the hurricane so no one, not the teachers, students, or other administrators trust it.

they expect bruce to snap.

but the next day its the same thing again.

a tentative odd sort of balanced peace that no one is really sure where it's coming from.

tim drake is a sort of riches to rags story. boarding school and private school all his life until one day when he was 13 both his parents were killed and the company he was set to inherit was rendered bankrupt from financial mishandling by its CEO phil marin. by the end of one VERY bad week tim is broke, homeless, and in fostercare in a rough part of town that sends him to the local highschool.

tim is a smart kid. and no matter how badly taught or loud the classroom is, tim manages to do well in his classes. he doesn't make many friends but no one targets him to mess with either. until he gets locked into the boys room alongside a few other boys from his gym class who want to feel him up.

but principal wayne (batman) puts a stop to it and part of tim is just awestruck at the sight of him. so maybe tim starts skipping some classes. his grades are always kept up so it should be okay!! and maybe he starts following bruce around as he makes rounds in the halls.

tim knows batman has had a shorter temper lately. he knows the news has started reporting on it and that even the bravest students are keeping in line for a while.

so tim shouldn't be surprised he gets caught and dragged to the office. the secretaries are gone for their lunchbreak and bruce's office is soundproof so that him screaming at parents or students doesn't leak out into the hall.

so maybe tim gulps a bit in fear when he's being stared down and asked what exactly he thought he was doing. principal wayne was so much bigger when he's just inches away from tim rather than several feet.

tim tries stuttering excuses tries to come up with something to say while principal wayne goes to his computer and starts looking up his name.

tim wilts when he's given detention and then harshly reprimanded before being sent back to class. but the next day it happens again and principal wayne is less than happy with him.

but it keeps happening.

even though tim always leaves in tears and has sacrificed many early mornings and afternoons to detention.

after awhile principal wayne stops yelling at him. he still stalks the hall and the simmering anger and pain in him continues but he spots tim in the halls they just quietly retreat to his office.

principal wayne keeps him there until lunch and then sends him away.

but slowly... he stops. lunch arrives and principal wayne doesn't send him away. tim misses third period then fourth then fifth.

sometimes principal wayne will send him away sometimes he won't. one day tim stays seated in that wooden chair in front of the principal's desk until it's late. the school is empty and the students, teachers, and janitors have gone home.

but not them.

principal wayne drives him home and stares at the run down duplex with peeling paint, overgrown grass in some parts, bald parts in others, crooked chain link fence and toys littering the yard.

he tells tim to tell his parents he's sorry for keeping him so late but tim assures him its alright. the couple fostering don't care where he is so long as he's back by sun down to watch their kids while they head out for the night shift.

principal wayne says nothing and just watches tim dart inside.

the next morning tim is walking past the office for morning detention. the secretaries aren't even in yet. principal wayne steps out of his office to call tim inside just as he was passing by.

its the first time they fuck.

tim goes to class tired from more than just the lack of sleep he got and an aching soreness between his legs.

tim wanders the halls after lunch and gets picked up immediatly, he wonders if principal wayne had been watching the cameras.

the second time is better. tim's more sure of where to place his hands and what the most comfortable spot to rest his weight on when principal wayne bends him over the desk. tim arches into the thrusts and shivers at the hot breath at his neck as he rocks against the thrusts battering into him.

the next day tim doesn't even go to homeroom, just beelining straight to principal wayne's office. he gets marked absent but during one of their breaks, principal wayne slips on his glasses and changes his attendance to 'present'.

tim attend classes for the rest of the year.

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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bruce wayne week day 2: gala rated T, no archive warnings apply, tagged: past bruce wayne/harvey dent, implied/referenced violence, brief suicide mention

how was it, bruce thought to himself, that he could withstand torture both physcial and mental without any lasting damage, but the one thing that had him trembling and ready to crawl out of his own skin was an itchy suit?

he’d grown out of them, was the thing. when he was young, alfred had ensured that he’d always dressed properly for any occasion, be that a wedding or charity event or board meeting. before that, his parents—well. they had made sure bruce was presentable enough for their friends to pinch bruce's cheeks instead of awkwardly patting his shoulder.

but now, newly returned to gotham with a thousand new scars and a hardened grip, bruce realized he had lost his tolerance for finely pressed and ironed fabric. none of his old suits had come remotely close to fitting him, and alfred had manhandled him in front of a mirror to take measurements, sending them off to his favourite tailor. bruce thought he'd cried out all the tears his body had left to give the day he came home, hugging alfred's frail body far too tight, but his eyes still managed to get all hot and uncomfortable when alfred's fingers hesitantly mapped the broad expanse of his shoulders, trying so hard to ignore the slashes, the stabs, the burn marks, the brands.

his shoes were too loose, the pointed style apparently a new trend in the gotham elite. bruce and alfred had worked on a pair of dress shoes together, ones that wouldn't fall off the minute bruce moved at anything more intense than a brisk walk, but bruce still longed for the comfort of his thick-soled boots.

those same shoes were tapping on the ground, making far too much noise, but bruce forced himself to take a breath and let the flower-scented artificial spray calm him down. logically, it made no sense at all, but bruce had always placed gotham on pause in his mind. he'd expected to come back older and harder and fiercer to find gotham exactly the same, waiting patiently just for him.

instead, bella revero had cut her hair and dyed it blonde, and was wearing a long, flowing, glittering pantsuit instead of a long, flowing, glittering gown. tom thompson's hair was a healthy salt and pepper when bruce left, but now the man was two tufts away from being completely bald. thicky-applied makeup somehow accentuated wrinkles instead of hiding them, no manner of well-cut suits could hide a growing potbelly, none of the waiters that had given bruce snacks and orange juice were working anymore, and most everyone bruce remembered being roughly his age had moved far, far away from this wretched hole of a city.

there were times when bruce slapped himself upside the head for the absolutely moronic decision to come back to gotham and announce ta-daaa! not dead! he should have just been batman and let bruce wayne's useless name and dishonored legacy be swallowed up by gotham.

footsteps behind him. bruce had tuned out most of his training, knowing that it would only hinder him as brucie wayne, only make him look suspicious. but he'd kept a basic background awareness, unable to turn that off, and these thuds were heading right for him. bruce tensed, his false smile probably turning brittle, two seconds away from whirling around and grabbing his attacker's arm so hard, the bone would shatter.

a heavy hand slammed down onto his shoulder, but right before bruce made a move, a voice spoke right next to his ear, smooth and low and capable of making his entire body relax without any input from him whatsoever.

"what the actual hell are you doing here, you motherfucker?"

"harvey," bruce sighed, turning around to give the man a relieved smile. "thank god. i thought i'd have to go through this all by myself. you didn't tell me you were coming?"

harvey's mouth pulled into a painful grin, one that didn't look the least bit friendly, and there was a bulging vein on his temple, a nervous tick that bruce knew he didn't have before.

"you alright there, harv? you're looking a little—," bruce gestured vaguely to harvey's face, "—red."

harvey's grip on bruce's shoulder tightened, fingers digging into muscle and sending painful twinges up bruce's shoulder, and bruce tried not to show his surprise. he was two seconds from shoving off harvey's hand himself, but just decided to grit and bear it. harvey wouldn't ever hurt him.

"you have been gone," harvey said, enunciating every word, "for years. i didn't know where you were. i didn't know if you were ever coming back. then i hear that you're home from a goddamn newspaper, and you just showed up to this party without telling anyone."

"i was on the guest list," bruce pointed out, automatically putting up a simplified version of his brucie wayne facade. he widened his eyes, putting a little cluelessness into the fluttering of his eyelashes, just enough to keep his cover in case anyone was recording him, just enough so harvey believes him.

"what the fuck are you doing with your eyes," harvey said flatly.

so apparently harvey knew him better than he thought.

"look, harv, i was gonna call you, i really was—"

"i thought you were dead," harvey hissed, and his best friends eyes have more lines on them than bruce remembered and he doesn't have to tip his head up just to see harvey laugh anymore and there's too much broken love in harvey's voice for them to be standing in between a gilded trash can and a spiked bowl of punch.

"harvey,,," bruce started, not knowing exactly where to go from there. he'd taught himself to prepare for any possible attack, any possible conspiracy or unmasking or targeted hit, but he'd completely forgot about his own friend. he'd forgotten he had a friend.

luckily or unluckily, harvey interrupted him before he had the chance to fumble his words. "i thought you were dead, i thought my best friend had finally fucking followed through with what i tried so hard for years to stop."

it hit bruce like a punch to the gut. he wasn't aware harvey had ever been trying.

"and now,,, what? you're just fine? you're dressed like a poser and your hair's all neat and trimmed and you're smiling at people like the only thing you care about is getting into their pants. plus, that's the fourth glass you've had tonight."

"we're already an hour in," bruce replied automatically.

"we're only an hour in," harvey said.

there was a pause. not an uncomfortable one, because it had been years since him and harvey were ever uncomfortable with each other. it was like harvey couldn't decide whether or not to reach out and strangle bruce for worrying him or break down for hurting him or hug him for coming back home.

bruce couldn't tell him. harvey worked too closely with commissioner gordon; daring bruce to steal mary jane from the principal's stash and shotgunning it out of his mouth was leagues away from keeping the secret that bruce was a dangerous, trained vigilante from everyone he knew.

"it's okay, harvey," bruce said, his voice completely sincere for the first time this night. "i found other ways to cope."

"i don't like those other ways," harvey sneered, eyes the glass in bruce's hand.

"other ways," bruce said. "you don't have to worry. i'm fine."

the photographer for the gotham gazette had snapped a picture of him entering, and no one would notice if he left now. bruce wayne couldn't be beating up pedophiles in the narrows if bruce wayne was getting drunk at a high-class gala. he'd planned to leave three hours in, a respectable amount of time, but meeting harvey had thrown him off balance.

he brushed past harvey, heading towards the butler's exit in the back of the ballroom. "enjoy the party!" he called behind him as he left, eyes wide again, clueless and fluttering and oh-so blind to the devastated way harvey watched him leave.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @catxsnow @pricetagofficial @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @comics-observer @buticaaba @brucewayneweek

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marauderundercover · 3 years

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Taking Chances Ch. 11: Blast from the Past (Siblings)

AO3

Swinging side by side with her father was an amazing experience. Marinette tried hard to stifle her laughter, figuring Batman wouldn’t appreciate it if word got around that the newest vigilante was a giggler. He swings to the next roof and pauses, Marinette frowning as he listens to something on his comm.

“Alright. All hands on deck. Robin, you’ll stay on the roof with Ladybird.” He instructs, Marinette frowns. Was he really sticking her younger brother on babysitting duty? And why couldn’t she go wherever it is he’s going?

“What’s happening?” She asks, crossing her arms.

“There are several crates of weapons and a few dozen armed men in a warehouse a mile out from here. You and Robin are going to stay on the roof to make sure no one leaves before the police arrive.” He instructs before turning and grappling away. Marinette frowns, but follows behind him. Does he really not think that she can handle herself? And she knows this is going to cause problems with Damian. He already doesn’t like her and now he has to stay with her. She watches as he swoops down into the warehouse and she lands silently on the roof.

“I do not appreciate this.” Robin says, stepping out of the shadows with crossed arms. Although she can’t see his eyes behind his mask, Marinette knows he’s glaring at her. She just rolls her eyes.

“I don’t either. I don’t need someone watching me 24/7. I can take care of myself.” She says, and with a sudden jolt, she realizes this is the first time he’s willingly speaking to her. The first time they’re talking and it’s to argue. Lovely.

“If you had simply stayed away, then I would have been allowed to follow Father. Instead, I am being punished for your insolence.” He adds. Is he going to lecture her the entire time Batman and the others are fighting in the warehouse, she thinks, raising an eyebrow. She starts to snark back, but a shadow moving behind him pulls her attention instead. Narrowing her eyes, she watches as a figure steps out of the shadow, a gun raised at her.

“Well well well. What do we have here?” The man asks, a smirk on his face. Marinette glances at Robin, trying to see if he recognizes the voice. She doesn’t see any recognition, so she immediately catalogues the man as an unknown threat. Chances were that he was involved with the group currently fighting in the warehouse and not an actual Batman level villain. But he still had a gun, so she wouldn’t underestimate him. Robin turns to face the man and he immediately takes the gun off Marinette, pointing it instead at Robin’s head. Marinette narrows her eyes. She may not know him very well, but he was still her little brother. And she wasn’t about to let some stupid goon threaten him. Flicking her wrist, she aims her yoyo at the man’s gun, smirking as she manages to yank it from his grasp. She catches the gun as it flies back with her yoyo, holding it carefully and trying to ignore the internal panic. She’d never held a gun before, never wanted to or had a reason to. And she really didn’t want to hold it now, but she didn’t want the man to know that she was scared of the gun, because that would give him an advantage. She just grins at the dumbfounded look on the man’s face, his shock enough so that Robin was able to knock him down without a fight. He pulls a zip tie out of his utility belt and ties the man’s hands together.

“Well that was disappointing. I was hoping for more of a fight.” Marinette teases, hoping that the tension between her and Robin would break. She watches as his lips purse slightly, not sure what the expression meant.

“I hardly think one buffoon with a gun would be much of a fight for either of us.” He finally says, and her eyes light up. Success!

“But if it was the right foe, they could surely take you down.” A new voice says, and this time Marinette can practically feel the tension rolling off of Robin.

“Slade.” He says, obviously tensing for a fight.

“Damian. I wasn’t aware you were in possession of a Miraculous.” The man, Slade, says, turning towards her. Marinette stiffens, uncomfortable by both his words and the fact that she can’t see the man’s face because of his costume.

“I’m not in possession of anything.” He says, his jaw clenched. Marinette shifts into a defensive position, desperately wishing that she had a comm. Surely the rest of the family had heard this man’s intrusion through Robin. But she wished she could hear them. Whether it was giving information about the man or reassurance that the rest of them would be there soon, she wanted to hear them.

“Tell me, little girl, how did you stumble upon one of the most powerful pieces of magic in the universe? And why haven’t I met you before?” He asks, stepping towards them. Glaring at the man, Marinette steps forward so that she’s standing in line with Robin, unwilling to cower behind her brother.

“I don’t think we run in the same circles. And I assure you, I didn’t stumble across anything. I was chosen to wield this Miraculous.” She says, shoving false confidence in her tone when all she wanted was to grab Robin and run. Slade oozed a sense of wrongness and danger. Not a combination she wanted anywhere near her or her family.

“Mmm. Perhaps not. But we’ll never know, will we. I’m going to have to ask you for that Miraculous now, dear.” He says, her eyes narrow.

“I’m not sure if that’s worked for you in the past, but it’s not going to work today. You’re not the first creep in a mask asking for my Miraculous.” She snarks, hand twitching as she analyzes him and tries to come up with a plan. Without any warning, he lunges towards them, a sword suddenly in his grasp. Marinette jumps back, going on the defense as Robin lunges forward with his own katana. Marinette flits around both of them, throwing her yoyo at Slade every time he got too close to Robin. It was obvious the man was well trained, and it was also obvious that he had little patience for the two.

“You’ve improved, but you’re still not good enough.” He hisses, lunging towards Robin, his sword aimed at the boy’s chest. Marinette lunges towards them, shoving Robin out of the way. She shrieks in pain as Slade slides his sword into her shoulder. She can’t see the man’s face, but she can just imagine his smirk. He puts his other hand on his sword, and she just knows he’s going to twist. She can’t let that happen. So instead, she jerks back, screaming as she pulls herself off the sword. Robin launches himself at Slade once again, furiously slashing at the man. Slade lifts his sword up and Marinette flicks out her yoyo, grunting in pain as she irritates her shoulder. But she’s able to wrap her yoyo around the man’s wrist. Smirking, she tugs roughly, pulling the man off balance enough so that Robin can disarm him. Just as she lets her shoulders relax, Slade yanks his arm, tugging her to him. She yelps in pain as he wraps her into a chokehold. Staring at Robin, she tries not to panic. They’re gonna come for them, right? The rest of her family? Surely they’ve beaten those goons by now. They definitely heard the problem on the roof through Robin’s comm, right?

“Unhand her.” Robin says, shifting his position now that he has two swords.

“I don’t think I will. Not for free, anyway. You want her alive for some reason.” Slade says, tightening his hold. Marinette lets out a choked breath, desperately trying to pull in enough oxygen.

“What do you want?” Robin asks, Marinette tries to shake her head, already guessing what the man wants. She’d rather die than give some psycho the power of Tikki. Not only could he destroy the world, but Paris would also be lost without the Miraculous Cure.

“Her earrings. Let me take them, and I’ll let her live….this time.” He says.

“No….don’t...not..worth it.” Marinette manages to say, just barely able to shake her head. She gags as Slade tightens his grip again, black spots dotting her vision.

“Ladybird-” Robin says, and Marinette is certain she’s hallucinating now. Because he almost sounds pained.

“Don’t.” She begs, fighting to stay conscious. As she watches him, she sees a smirk make its way onto his face. That’s good. Good. Smirking brother means….what does it mean? She’s not sure. All she knows is that suddenly, the pressure on her neck is gone. She falls to her knees, gasping for breath and wincing at the burning in her shoulder. Too much. Too much all at once. A hand on her good shoulder shakes her from her thoughts and she weakly hits at it.

“Ladybird, it’s me.” A voice says. She blinks, opening her eyes, wincing at the pain enveloping her. Looking closer at the figure, she sighs in relief, letting herself slump down. She’s safe. Arms pick her up gently and she smiles softly, tiredness hitting her as the adrenaline finally fades. Curling in closer, she mumbles into Batman’s chest.

“Thanks dad.”

---

Bruce Wayne was pissed. And the only person who could piss him off so much was himself. He’d left Damian and Marinette on the roof alone because he thought they’d be safer. He didn’t think the two would be able to get into any trouble up there. Of course he would be wrong. Of course Slade Wilson would choose tonight to come after Damian. And of course the man just had to know about the Miraculous.

Hearing his daughter’s pained screams over his son’s comm would haunt his nightmares. It’d likely become the unholy symphony over the images of Jason’s broken body and Damian’s limp form. Images that’d haunted him for years and would continue to do so until he dies. When he was young, his nightmares were just of his parents. But he had seen things much worse since becoming a father. And now he’d heard much worse. Shaking his head, he tries hard to hold onto the one bright part of the evening.

Marinette had called him dad.

It was the first time she’d called him anything other than ‘Mr. Wayne’. His heart warmed at the thought, but everything came crashing down again when he remembered. Slade Wilson was gone. He’d managed to get away while his focus was on Marinette’s wellbeing. Which means his daughter was now in even more danger. Damian had informed him of the man’s obsession with the Miraculous. It was something they’d need to talk about, but not tonight. After she passed out in his arms, he brought her back to the manor. Alfred stitched her shoulder, and Bruce brought her to her room. It wasn’t decorated yet, but he’d made sure to pick out a room for her after finding out about her. Even if she didn’t want anything to do with them after this, she’d always have a room here.

Sighing, Bruce sticks his head into Marinette’s room, just to reassure himself that she was there. That she was safe. It was something he did with each of his kids, every time they were injured. Every time he was afraid that he would lose them. The sight in front of him makes him pause and pull out his phone to take a picture. They might be mad at him for it later, but he’d curse himself forever if he let this moment slip away. All of his children were piled in Marinette’s room. The girl herself was on the bed, curled into a ball despite her injured shoulder. At the foot of her bed was Damian, his face peaceful for once. Jason, Dick and Tim were all in a pile on the floor, pillows and blankets scattered both beneath them and on top of them. They were an impossibly tangled pile of limbs, guarding their youngest sister. He smiles softly, eyes finally falling on Cass curled up in an armchair that she must’ve pulled next to Marinette’s bed. Satisfied that all were well, Bruce shuts the door gently, not wanting to risk waking any of them.

His children were together, and safe. For now.

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just-an-aussie-fandom-hermit · 3 years

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Ok but like, I feel the Bruce Wayne/Hal Jordan dynamic works so well (shippy or platonically) but DC are just cowards and don’t develop same-sex friendships because they could be construed as romantic... But that’s another post.

They’re as stubborn as the other and equally motovated by their own goals which makes them butt heads a lot, but that also means they can understand each other better and know a bit about what goes on inside each others’ heads.

And by stubborn I mean in a, “why should I let persons A and B help me with activity X when I can do it on my own and they don’t need to concern themselves with it.” To me this doesn’t read as “I’m a Big Strong Man Who Doesn’t Need Help” it actually reads quite the opposite, as “I Am Vulnerable But I Do Not Want These People Doing What I Am Because It Is Dangerous And I Can Probably Do It Better.” Because, Toxic Masculinity can take a flying leap, but I imagine those in the League aren’t entirely immune to societal conventions, especially the ones they’ve grown up with. So while they will beat Toxic Masculinity and mysogyny with a flaming broom at any given moment, many of them struggle with internalised issues. They struggle to admit they need help, that they can’t do things on their own, that they are vulnerable and struggle to come to terms with that.

And because of this, the two can say really hurtful things. There is truth to them, but, like a sibling or spousal argument, their intention is to make their point as well as degrade the other side. They’re more venemous than anything they’d say to almost anyone else but their intention is to hurt; however they almost always regret these things immediately but are often unable to apologise or have another conversation after so they stew on these things and internalise them and make more problems. So, things like this get said to one another:

“You and your damn superiority complex!... I get you have control issues but this is just ridiculous... How many more people need to die before you learn to ask for help?...”

“Can you take anything seriously?... Are you really so desperate for an anchor in this world that you’ll do stupid things like this to form a connection? Or are you trying to burn bridges to avoid them altogether?...”

However they’re able to reconcile and have a civil discussion because they care about each other and because they want to work better together for the good of the League.

And yes, they piss each other off greatly but there is always that level of respect there (as there is for the rest of the JL, but I feel like people exacerbate their “rivalry”/friction when they do trust each other and can and have worked together well). They get on each other’s nerves because they’re similar, and they do similar stupid (sometimes self-sacrificial) crap, and because they know how to push each other’s buttons to either get them to back off of get on board. But, as with any Leaguer, especially a Founder, they’ll zip right over at the drop of a hat.

I mean, at one point in time they both interact with Yellow Lantern Rings, (see: Hal Jordan in Injustice, among others. Parallax. Also, that one scene in a comic I can’t remember the name of, where a Yellow Ring tries to take Bruce as its wearer, but because he’d previously worn a Green Lantern Ring, via Hal, it deems him incompatible and leaves).

I imagine that being ruled by their fears, learning how to co-exist with them, as well as ruling by fear are points of great contention but also of great understanding between them. How to live one’s life being aware of one’s fears and the fear they potentially inspire in others and how to balance and process that in a healthy way.

It comes up in most of their comic team-ups (there haven’t been many in animated series, save for The Batman, and I think Batman Brave and the Bold?) and that Bruce admires Hal for being able to process his trauma and move forward, never forgetting it but not being consumed by it, which is something Bruce knows he struggles with (take notes, DC, a good Batman is at least somewhat self-aware!) and hopes to be able to emulate.

That dynamic, that, “I recognise there are things about you that are not great and I do not appreciate, however you can change and remove those aspects of yourself. There are aspects of you I wish to emulate and inspire me to be a better human being and do right by others. Your presence inspires me. Your attitude and intentions are something I wish more people had. I respect you,” is something I love, fictional or otherwise (can you tell?)

I had a point to this but it got away from me so yeah.

#this is a lot of text sorry i do try and break it up #batman #bruce wayne #dc #green lantern #hal jordan #characterisation #rambles #writing #batlantern #but not specifically shippy #found in my drafts #dc comics #halbruce #z rambles

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thr-333 · 4 years

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Mismatch- Part 8

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Meeting your Dad! Again!

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“She’s ok,” Marinette informs Marion, rechecking her bruised forehead.

“Already called the cops and ambulance,” Marion bounces a crying baby in his arms, humming a random tune.

Marinette nods, she doesn't try to move the lady. She leaves her to check that the goon who attacked the mother was still securely tied up, even if they were unconscious. The baby's cries calm, replaced by giggling as Marion makes faces. Marinette smiles at the scene. Hearing the quiet touch down of feet behind her she pivots coming face to face with the Batman.

“Who are you,” He demands in his usual growling voice.

“We-”

“Shush!” Marion hisses as the baby starts to wail again.

Marinette rolls her eyes, trying not to feel nervous that Marion told the Batman off.

“We’re just passing through the city, and decided to help out a bit,” Marinette explains, as Marion walks up to stand next to her.

Marinette checks the entrance to the alley. More out of habit than actual concern. Someone she assumes to be Robin by the costume was blocking the way out. As If Marion was going to make a break for it holding a baby.

“This city-”

“Uh! No, no, no, I need that to stay on thank you,” Marion interrupts him, trying to gently stop the baby from pulling down his mask while holding both up.

Marinette can practically feel the irritation rolling off Robin. Batman surprisingly seemed to be perfectly fine with being interrupted, likely because the baby was very cute. Marion manages to keep his mask up, holding the baby down and away from his face now.

“Um… sorry…. Please continue,” Marinette turns back to Batman. Marion bouncing the upset baby, trying to make up for his lost toy.

“This city is dangerous, it already has plenty of protectors, you aren’t needed here,” Batman looms over them, as if just his presence would make them instantly agree and send them packing.

“Really? Then where were these ‘protectors’ five minutes ago?” Marion snaps, the tension in the air sets Marinette on edge all to aware of negative emotions, “If it wasn't for us these two would be dead,”

“We had our eyes on the situation,” Robin speaks up for the first time.

“While we were doing something about it,” She had lean't not to let anyone discredit you in her early time as Ladybug. Marinette meets Batman's glare, channeling her inner Ladybug to do so. “Even if you could have saved them, it doesn't change the fact we did , also-”

“No, no- wait these are dirty, ah!” Marion exclaims, all eyes turning to him. Marinette watches in disbelief as he completely ruins the moment trying to wrestle his gloved hand away from the baby’s open mouth.

“Could you maybe not?” Marinette hisses to him. He breaks free pulling his hands away from the reaching baby, who starts to sniffle.

“These gloves have touched the buildings, alley floor and punched that guy, which by the looks of it is the dirties of all, I am not about to let this little one get anywhere near those germs,” Marion finishes, pulling off his gloves with his teeth. Giving the baby his fingers to happily chew on.

“You are such a mother!” Marinette hisses, snatching the glove he couldn’t put down with his hands full.

��Thank you,” Marion says once he is free to. Marinette isn’t sure if he meant the insult or taking the glove, probably both. He turns to Batman, as serious as a person being eaten by a six month old can be. “Look, the point is we helped people tonight and isn’t that what matters?”

“Not if-” The sound of sirens in the distance interrupts Batman again, “Let’s discuss this on the roof,”

With that both Batman and Robin deploy their grappling hooks and are gone in a matter of seconds.

“I guess we follow them?” Marinette turns to Marion, “They’re rather confident we won’t just leave, aren’t they?”

“They could catch us easily,” Marion shrugs, “You follow, I’ll drop this little trouble maker off,”

“If you insist,” Marinette leaves him before the vehicles park outside the alley, scaling the building.

“Your friends not joining us?” Batman asks as soon as she flips onto the roof.

“What was he meant to do?” Marinette tries not to seem out of breath, this was easier with a yo-yo, and magic powers, “Leave the baby on the floor?”

Batman doesn't say anything. They peer over the edge of the building, watching as the cops and medics show up. The cops seem cautious of Marion, but don’t do anything as he holds the baby. Marion ignores them talking to the medics instead as the check over the mother. Marion follows them out of the alley. He tries to hand off the baby to one of the medics but it starts crying loudly enough that they can hear it from the roof. Marion takes back the baby, calming it down in a matter of seconds.

“I think this could take awhile,” Marinette informs the company, still keeping an eye on the people below.

“Then I’ll ask you again,” Batman turns to her, “Who are you?”

“Like names?” Marinette asks, getting a curt nod, “Don’t have any, can’t decide,”

“You don’t have codenames?” Robin scoffed, Marinette wasn’t sure she liked his tone.

“We get by just fine without any,” Marinette watches as Marion starts talking with an officer, as the other pushes the goon into the car.

“You are completely unprofessional,” Robin spits out, thats it.

“Oh excuse me, I wasn’t aware there was a hiring facility for vigilantes, whats their motto, ‘vigilantes: we took the law into our own hands and beat people up in dark alleyways, but if you aren't named after a flying animal you are being unprofessional!” Marinette may be a little overtired and jet lagged at this point. Especially since she thinks she heard a laugh somewhere.

“I have formal training,” Robin seethes, “And at least I’m wearing armour,”

“Good for you, you know, I have both those things, just try and shoot me, see what happens, cause I guarantee I- both of us are covered on both accounts,” Marinette challenges, glancing down at the street to see Marion still talking with the officers. She throws in for good measure “You’d think with all your ‘training’ you’d be able to tell,”

With the way Robins glaring, Marinette is sure he’s going to take up her challenge. Good. If that's the only way to get through to them so be it.

“That’s enough,” Batman breaks through the tension, “We will discuss this further when the other one is here,”

Marinette looks down at ‘the other one’ just as the mother starts to wake up. She looks around panicked. Marion rushes to her side still holding the baby. She cries in relief taking the baby from him. Marinette watches as Marion rubs his neck, a gesture she knew as him being embarrassed over praise. With a wave over his shoulder he leaves, scaling up the building like Marinette did.

“I gave the police my statement, since the woman may be concussed, she seems ok but- wow it's chilly up here,” Marion cuts himself off coming to stand next to Marinette

“Your armour isn’t insulated?” Robin sneers, with a pointed look at Marinette.

“Not what I meant, but thanks for clearing that up,” Marion takes in the way Marinette bristles at the comment.

She hands back his glove, still glowering.

“As I was saying earlier,” Batman tries to redirect the conversation, as Marion wipes dribble off his fingers before slipping his glove back on. “Gotham is dangerous, there is no need to put yourselves at risk,”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Marion smiles down at the Mother still holding her baby tightly, “We want to help while we're here, what's wrong with that?”

“You wont be helping anyone if you get yourselves killed,” Robin warns.

“We can handle back alley thugs,” Marinette addresses Robin with a scowl.

“And what happens when it's not, when you run into an actual villain?” Batman asks, the sounds of the car and ambulance leaving in the background.

“We can handle them too,” Marinette says a touch proud, with the confidence that Ladybug always carries.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” The severity to Batman's tone makes his words feel heavy despite being so cliche.

“That's pretty standard at this point,” Marion shrugs, “We’ve learnt on the job,”

“Even so, I won't allow you to risk your lives,” Batman decides, the twins exchange a glance of disbelief.

“You won't allow us?” Marinette asks, “What makes you think we care?”

He seems taken aback, Marinette continues before he can answer.

“The fact of the matter is, we are vigilantes, just like you, if you agree or not we are going to help people,” Marinette preaches, not letting him protest, “Your approval doesn't matter to us,”

Marinette walks past them, followed by Marion. They are about to reach the opposite side of the building when a man dressed in blue and black emerges from the shadows. Nightwing, Marinette recognises the costume, the only costume he's had ever had as far as she's concerned. Nope, she definitely had never found any other horrendous costumes when researching for her designs, nope.

“How long have you been there?” Marion startles, getting a friendly smile, the first friendly smile of the night(baby not withstanding).

“I’ve been listening for a while,” He tells them, “I know you want to help, but we are able to protect just fine Gotham, there's no reason for you to take unnecessary risks, even if you are capable,”

“Even so I-we cannot stand by and do nothing,” Marinette calmly declares, he being the first one to not act like they were clueless idiots, “Not when we are able to help people, and bring a smile to them,"

Nightwing doesn't respond but its clear he has no intention of letting them pass. He doesnt stop them as they walk away to the left side of the building, only to be stopped by Red Robin.

“Oh no, by all means don’t come out all at once or anything, please,” Marion snaps, turning on his heels not even waiting for his speech. Marinette shrugs and follows.

“You should listen!” Red Robin calls, Marinette has to stop Marion from flipping him the bird.

They strike an interesting balance. It was times like this she wondered if the miraculous affected their behaviour, or if it was because of their behaviour that they received their miraculous. They walked to the right side of the building and were predictably stopped once again, this time by Red Hood.

“How many of you are there!?” Marion shouts, Red Hood chuckles. Marion’s anger is only slightly offset by the sound.

“Here? Just me left,” His mirth turns serious “This job ain't all fun and games,”

“For fuck sake! Don’t you think I know that!?” Marion swears, letting Marinette know his patience had finally snapped, “I’ve watched people die, a lot of people, all because I wasn’t good enough! Well now I am and I’ll be damned if I waste that and let more people die when I can do something about it!”

Marinette cringes. She knew Marion still carried the guilt from his earlier days as Chat Noir. The ladybugs always brought people back, but that doesn't change what happened. Marion goes around Red Hood, no one stopping them this time. They jump over to the next roof, getting far away as quickly as possible.

“You ok?” Marinette asks, after they had gone a decent distance.

“Yeah, you?” Marion doesn't quite meet her eye, “I’m sorry for leaving you alone,”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marinette tells him, “Any of it,”

Marion nods, but they both know he will. They continue on with their patrol, less light hearted than usual, memories flashing through their heads.

“We’re being followed,” Marion glances at the direction of their pursuer.

“Ignore them, it’s probably just Robin or something,” Marinette decides, walking in the opposite direction.

They continue on their patrol, going later than they would like because of their follower. It was worth it when they came across another situation in a diffrent alley. ‘What's with this city and alleys?’ Marinette wonders dropping down. They both quickly defuse the situation. Marinette can feel a gaze from above and gives in. When they climb back up from the alley she snaps.

“Are you planning to let us go home tonight, or just keep stalking us?” Marinette asks the empty space.

“Wasn’t planning to, just wanted to see what you could do,” Red Hood walks out from the shadows, Marinette makes sure Marion isn't melting. He is.

“And?”

“You’re completely unprepared,” He shrugs, face hidden by his helmet.

“Great, more lectures,” Marinette turns to walk away.

“No it's not,” Red Hood insists, making her pause, “I can tell you have skill, but you don’t have the tech you need or the support, what are you planning on just walking around the city every night waiting for crime to wall in your lap?”

“This is Gotham,” Marinette accepts the responsibility of leading the conversation. Marion being able to do little more than stutter, probably realising he shouted at his crush about how he weak he is.

“Even so, if you want to help people there are better, more effective, ways to do it,”

“I know, but we don’t exactly have many other options,” Besides transforming, but that was off the table.

“That’s why we’re offering help,” He told them, “Do you want to work with us?”

“What? Why?” Marinette runs the conversation through her head. Wondering when that became an option.

“Why do I want you to? Because you yelled at Batman, and that's hilarious,” Red Hood was probably smiling under his hood, “The others probably just don’t want you to get hurt or something, although Bat's is always looking for new kids to adopt”

“Hm,” Marinette hums, she had to carefully consider their options.

They couldn’t risk revealing any of their identities. However it was also probably a good idea not to piss them all off more. They could use some new gear but they didn’t necessarily need it. The main purpose was to be able to protect their class and friends, now that the Gotham vigilantes knew they were around suddenly showing up wouldn’t be suspicious. They really could get by without the help, it would put too much at risk. Any way you sliced it the answer was-

“Yes!” Marion blurts out, before Marinette can say the opposite.

“What?” Marinette hisses, of course that's when he recovered his ability to speak.

“Great, meet at this location tomorrow night, all the details are on here,” he hands Marion a piece of paper and Marinette swears he internally combusts as their(gloved) fingers brush.

With that Red Hood disappears leaving behind the shell shocked twins, both for very different reasons.

“Why! Why did you say yes!” Marinette practically screeches, turning Marion to face her and shaking him out of his stupor.

“It’s Red Hood! Red! Hood! He asked us personally! We have to do it!” Marion shakes her right back.

“No we don’t!” Marinette yells, breaking away from his grip, shaking her head at the lovestruck look, “Did you actually consider what you were agreeing to? How much did your crush affect this decision?!”

“100%!”

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duketectivecomics · 3 years

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What's your opinion on fans writing Duke with his cousin Jay as his guardian instead of Bruce? I've seen some people talk about not wanting to separate him from his family and preferring to have him raised by his cousin, but it also feels like some people might use that as an excuse to leave him out of the batfam

this got slightly long & esp ranty at the end for my tastes so tl;dr - ive talked guardianship before & stand by that fans can Do What they Want. but fans who exclude Duke from the main batfam can die by my sword </3

so yeah, I’ve talked abt Duke’s guardianship before and I’ll reiterate: while Cousin Jay most recently has custody of Duke, that doesn’t negate the fact that Duke WAS under Bruce’s care for a time. So whether fans choose to follow what’s most recently given by canon or opt to leave him in Wayne Manor, I will not begrudge either of those decisions. DC themselves hasn’t elaborated recently on what the case is (although I wouldn’t be surprised if they soft-retconned Cousin Jay’s role out, by virtue of [whatever current writer] simply forgetting what’s been established), so fandom Can and Will Do What They Want in that regard.

Duke is shown at the end of Batman & the Signal to be regularly visiting his parents. I love the idea of Duke keeping up with his former family members & with the batfam in equal parts & of fics exploring how he balances time btwn all of them. Family has always been a BIG thing for duke!!! And having that family expanded just makes it all the more important now! That’s what I’d LOVE to see from fic authors!

However, if Duke being in Jay’s custody IS being used as a (piss-poor) excuse to leave him out of the batfam-proper or relegate him to an auxiliary role, especially when modern comics place him as ANYWHERE but that. That’s where I’m gonna start throwing hands, lmao

Duke is a Main batfam member at this point. Don’t erase the fact that he HAS been directly taken under Bruce’s (proverbial) wing!!! Don’t erase the fact that the other batkids consider him a sibling!!! If a fan is leaving Duke out of their batfam content at this point, but including every OTHER batkid, its a BAD look and tbh I want nothing to do with them!!!

Tim’s dad was alive for most of his Robin run! Was he ever excluded from the narrative because of that? Babs’ dad is Much more famously alive, and, OH YEAH, she ends up getting included with damn near as much frequency as the Usual Four Boys. Steph wasn’t ever even directly adopted by Bruce, and yet we all agree that she’s DEFINITELY a main batkid now. So there’s no way anyone will ever convince me that Duke isn’t a Main Batkid unless they’re willing to start excluding all of these guys too. (but then again, some ppl just Do Exactly That Anyways bc they only care abt The Four BatBoys™ so...)

Whether its fic or art or WHAT have you, at this point there just... doesn’t feel like there’s much excuse. Duke’s been a legal part of this family since 2016. The greater part of the fandom is at least Casually Aware of him. Theres more and more blogs like mine trying to raise awareness for him and to give yall resources about him where we can. Use them!!! ask questions!!! explore these blogs and these tags!!! and for gods sake INCLUDE DUKE IN YOUR BATFAM CONTENT.

and if you’re afraid of fucking him up like, licherally just read about him fjdlkas; he’s one of the QUICKEST batkids to read for!!!!! and i should know!!!! I’m also actively trying to read for everyone else too!!! (not to toot my own horn but i’m about to start my 90s batfam reading actually so *TOOT TOOT MOTHERFUCKERS*)

like god, i don’t think its asking MUCH asking COMICS fans to READ COMICS lmao. like rco is a resource! overdrive is a resource! trades exist bc buying individual issues CAN get expensive! hell ive been reading mostly using the DCU app bc it HAS been more cost effective than trying to outright buy trades & its easier to navigate than rco! (& i dont have to worry abt pop-ups too!!! which is really nice!)

there’s LOTS of ways to get to know a character and the excuses at this point are either due to laziness &/or racism and either way its a Bad Look. Make An Effort @ batfamdom. he’s one extra boy to read for and he’s one of the FASTER & EASIER ones that you can get into! BECAUSE he’s so new! god just give him a SHOT least holy shit!!!!!!

#duke thomas #asked and answered #anonymous asks #randywrites #today on: Randy Got Big Mad lmao #rco is short hand for read comics online BTW #hashtag use rco like the rest of us #anyways yeah. i started getting HEATED abt this. just!!!!! oof it is NOT that hard to read up on a character SO NEW and with SO FEW comics #(comparatively speaking ofc)#and its not that hard!!! ive been reading for only a few years now and FOR REAL. duke was one of the EASIER characters for me to read for!!!#like the only reason im not making MORE content for him is BC im trying to curate it and bc i write mostly wlw stories so fjdklas;f;adk #im gonna remedy that soon. i should edit that duke n cass snippet ive been working on #i should work on that oracle corps idea that me n someone came up with ahh #just!!!!! respect duke thomas or perish!!!!!!!

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kimberly-spirits13 · 4 years

Text

Right Hand Man (Loyal to the End) Pt. 8

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Synopsis: You were like Talia’s daughter. The only thing was that you weren’t and instead, you had grown up in the foster care system and at a young age were taken by and personally trained by Talia. Along the way, you meet Damian and the two of you start to work side by side and eventually, after some time become closer and closer. However, when disaster in the league strikes, you face balancing an old, forgotten life as a normal child and the burden of right hand to the demon heir.

Note: I know that this is long and that there are a good number of time skips, but I didn’t want to make this into a series and just wanted it as a long fic because .... well because I can lol

Also, I didn’t want to have Damian so young in this so just go with it. I’m thinking maybe early 15 or almost 16 at the most. Idk I just don’t like writing for young Dami.

Warnings: angst, almost losing someone, buildings on fire, bombs, the usual lol

Word Count: 2181

Masterlist for Series

Both you and Damian had now been secretly dating for two months. It was an exhausting game of cat and mouse of either running from his family, or the prying eyes of the press. You had just excepted at this point that this was just going to be a new normal for a long time. There was nothing you could seriously complain about much however. This was all you had wanted for years and if the company of clandestine meetings was going to be a center of attention in this relationship, that was what was going to happen.

Dates were mainly just tea or coffee on the rooftops late at night for only a short amount of time if it was on patrol, and longer if it was at the manor. Right now, you were sitting in the library, laying in Damian’s lap, both reading your own books. No one but Alfred was in the manor however, you were sure that he knew about you and Damian. Light streamed in through the windows and silence blanketed the room as Damian ran his fingers through your hair, occasionally braiding it. You fiddled with the matching golden ring on your left ring finger some as he did this. This was the most relaxed you had been in years and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He didn’t know this until recently, but the only professor that had ever lived was one that you had. Your voice professor used to braid your hair during warm ups. She was the closest thing that you had ever had to a mother and in return for this, you begged Talia to let her live. You decided not to make it out so that you trusted or cared for her, but rather that she had connections to people that the league could use. With this tactic, Talia actually allowed her to leave but under a life- long oath of secrecy to protect the league. You braid your own hair when you were stressed or anxious but it’s better having someone else do it. Damian only found out when you started braiding and braiding your own hair in the roof tops one night at the league, only to let the piece unravel and start again.

“Beloved are you going to go on patrol tonight?” He asked breaking the silence.

“Of course.” You answered, “Is there a reason you asked?”

“No, I was just checking.”

“...Damian, how long do you think we’re going to stay a secret? I’m not upset or anything of the sort, it’s just a bit exhausting sometimes.” You questioned, flipping the page of your book.

“I don’t really know Beloved. How long do you think you’d want to stay like this?” Damian set down his book to give the conversation his attention seeing as this one was important.

You audibly sighed as he started braiding a portion of your hair, twisting it around and then letting it lose again, “I don’t really know, 3 months at most maybe?”

“Are you tired of seeing strangers online pine away after me?” He asked smirking.

You rolled your eyes and jokingly slapped his arm making him laugh, “What about me? I’ve seen plenty of suitors for myself.”

“Don’t remind me Y/N.”

“Oh no, I’ll remind you. First there was one that actually messaged me asking if I was single. Oh, another that tweeted asking if I was single. Then, there was another that mailed a love letter to the man-“

Damian cut you off, putting his hand over your mouth making you laugh. You sat up and sat crisscrossed in his lap facing him, running your fingers through his hair.

“You didn’t really think you could shut me up that easily did you demon?” You asked quietly.

“I’d gage you would find a way to get your point across any way you could General.” He kissed the corner of your lips which made you glare at him some before pulling him in for a real kiss.

“Next time some girl gets a hold of you at a gala though, just make sure not to charm her for me, will you?”

“Whatever you say.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Patrol started off boring and uneventful. Nothing exciting was happening but for maybe a few ally level crimes. You and Damian were perched on the rooftops looking down at the city lights and occasional people. Damian had obviously gotten the whole Robin outfit, in his own version of course. You however, took the same style as your past uniform. It was similar in the sense that it was amour and a hood, you still had your knives and compartments, this time though, the color was different. He couldn’t see the look on your face through the mask you were wearing which covered your lower face to your eyes, but he was sure you were bored. He was going to start a conversation when the comms came on with Bruce talking loudly.

“I need everyone at the Rosehill Apartments on 7th Street! There’s multiple bombs spread throughout the building, civilians are inside.”

You looked at Damian who nodded at you before you both swung off the building.

“ETA 2 minutes.” You replied back getting onto your own bike and speeding off towards 7th St. following Damian.

_______________________________________________________________________

Upon arrival to the building, you could see that everyone else was already inside but for Nightwing who on crowd duty until you two had gotten there.

“There’s one more bomb in the kitchens. Everyone else is either getting their own or helping the residences escape.”

You looked around for an entrance that wasn’t in terrible condition. Once you found one you ran towards it at full speed with a bomb on your mind.

“Stick close, the roof might not be stable anymore.” You said, “If the bomb goes off, I expect you to leave immediately.”

“Beloved I’m not leaving you if anything happens.” Robin replied running beside you.

You didn’t reply, instead bursting into the kitchen and jumping over one of the carts in the way of your path. Using the locator on your wrist device, you scanned the room stopping when it got a hit.

“It’s in the freezer!” You ran over and opened the door into the large room, “Hold this open and make sure it doesn’t close, I’ll disarm the bomb.”

Damian nodded and did what you said as you went inside and ripped open one of the floorboards to find a massive collecting of wires and buttons connected onto one device. The type of timebomb was one that you had seen plenty of times before in training and when you yourself had used them. Part of training was learning to make one so it wasn’t too terribly difficult to disarm this one. The hard part was getting out.

“Y/S/H/N!” You heard from behind you as you were about to stand up, “The place is on fire.” Damian called out, “We have to leave!” You turned around and saw the place ablaze. Damian already had his other mask up over his face so he could breathe when you got out of the freezer. The two of you started running out to find the hallway also up in flames.

“Don’t come near the kitchens, the whole place is going up in flames.” You said, “Bomb has been disarmed however.”

“Good, now get out of there.” Batman replied back.

“Working on that.”

You and Damian sprinted down the hallway making sure no one else was inside on your way out. Once in the lobby you turned hearing someone screaming from a room nearby.

“I’ll be right back.” You said turning around locating the person who was a small child.

“I can’t find my Mommy.” She said sobbing into your arms.

“I promise you I’ll find her.” You said running back up front, “I’m going to give you to Robin and he’ll take you outside, I’ll find your mommy.”

You reached the front of the building where Robin was, “Take her, she can’t find her mother, I’m going in after her.”

“You can’t, the building is going to come down at any minute!” Damian said taking the girl in his arms.

“I have to check, I can’t let her grow up without parents like I did.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You ran inside not really aware of what was happening outside anymore. Looking around you saw no sign of anyone but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t be buried under something. As you did this, you pulled out the scanner again but this time had it scan for biological creatures instead of machinery. There was nothing at the point where you were. Going farther into the structure was a no go at this point but it was your only option.

Outside, Damian was trying to find the girl’s mother in the crowd as he mentally cursed himself for allowing you to go inside. He should’ve done more, he could’ve done more but he didn’t. Running to the line of ambulances, he looked for someone that matched the girl’s description of her mother. When he finally found the person, he rushed over just in time for the lady to see her daughter and burst into tears. She hugged her daughter and thanked Damian for bringing her back to her before Damian rushed back to find you.

“Y/N!” He screamed getting inside catching your attention.

Further down the hallway you heard Damian yelling for you. You turned around and started headed quickly for him and once he saw you, he announced that they had found the mother outside of the building. The two of you started running for the exit when you looked up hearing a faint beeping. The exit was 50 feet ahead and the closer to it you got, the louder the sound.

“Damian! There’s a bomb above us, I- I think it’s about to blow.” You said as pieces of wood from the building came down little by little, “5 seconds now!”

Damian had a look of terror as he picked up the pace. You knew that both of you wouldn’t make it without a little boost so you got behind Damian and launched him out of the way where Nightwing was standing right as the building was coming down. The last thing you heard was a defining thunder and then the screams Damian who was kicking and trying to get away from Nightwing to go back for you.

“Y/N is still inside you idiot let me go!” He sobbed trying to elbow his oldest brother in the rib.

The second round of explosions came, only making the structure collapse more, fire raining down.

“Beloved!” He screeched making Nightwing almost drop him in surprise at what he called you.

He understood why Damian was fighting so hard now, but that didn’t mean that he could let him go. The rest of the family standing by heard it as well. It would’ve been hard to miss anyways.

“You can’t go in after her!” Nightwing yelled over the explosion.

“I have to! She’s the only one I have, I have to go! Let me go!” Damian got lose just as the dust was settling.

He ran to where he last saw you and started digging, tears filling his eyes so that he couldn’t see. There was no chance you were still alive and if you were, it wouldn’t be for long. That was when he heard you try and move something. He was looking in the wrong place, only a few feet away. When he saw where you were, he lifted the piles of wood and debris off of you to find you badly injured and hardly awake.

“Beloved stay awake for me okay?” He said lifting you up out of the rubble.

There was a part of your side where you had gotten impaled. It didn’t look like it hit any vital organs, however, you were bleeding out rapidly.

He swept the hair out of your face and gently held you to him as he ran for the Batmoblie quickly trailed by everyone else. With you in the backseat, Nightwing front, and Batman driving, you were quickly headed for the cave. Damian wrapped your wounds tightly and held your head up in his lap checking your pulse every few seconds.

“How is she?” Bruce asked sparing a glance at the back seat.

“Unwell, I-I don’t know how she’s still alive.” Damian responded.

“Enhanced strength from the pit.” You groaned some in pain.

“What the hell?!” Dick turned around to see you trying to sit up, “Enhanced strength my ass, how many times did you take a dip?”

That earned a sharp glare from Damian and a reprimand from Bruce. He apologized realizing that he overstepped.

“Beloved don’t move like that, just stay down.” Damian said gently, “You’ll only hurt yourself more.

Getting to the cave, you don’t remember much, just waves of pain and floating in and out of consciousness. The only part that you really remember was the worst part, but that was later to come when everyone really thought you would die.

Tag List-

@we-want-mini-mini @a-door-into-my-mind @idkmanicantenglish @queengeorgiaaa @lucy-roo @wolfiemichele @grey-water-colors @random-fandom-girl-24 @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

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afni-fics · 3 years

Text

Red Robin: In Hindsight - Chapter 1 (In the Present... Memento)

In Hindsight: Chapter 1 (In the Present... Memento) (3266 words) by C_R_Scott Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Jason Todd Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence

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Story Summary:

What if bleeding out in a Middle Eastern hotel room was not the first time Timothy Drake-Wayne and Tamara Fox met? What if they were actually childhood best friends, but life and circumstance forced them apart for years to the point of forgetting each other?

Concept/Prompt: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: It's another rough night in Gotham City. The Scarecrow is on the loose and the Bats are out in force trying to recapture him. Unfortunately, Red Robin got hit with large dose of fear toxin and had to retreat to a safe place to administer the antidote and wait for it to kick in. The closest safe place just happens to be Tam Fox's apartment.

(A/N: All "In the Present..." events take place post-Red Robin #26)

---

"--ed Robin? Can you hea--"

Tim groaned softly as he slowly clawed his way back into some semblance of consciousness. Almost by reflex, he began going down a silent mental checklist to determine his current situation:

"Uniform, cowl, belts in place... Still Red Robin... Not disarmed... Not disabled... Okay...

"No sounds of combat... City noises muffled... Carpet beneath me... Indoors... Apartment?... So far so good...

"Groggy... Vision blurry... Hearing ok... Movements sluggish... Drugged maybe?... I can work with this..."

"Tim? Are you... alright?"

"And that was my real name... Well shit."

Gingerly, Tim tried to push himself up off the floor. A glance around himself revealed he had been lying amidst what appeared to be the remains of a wooden bookshelf along with its contents and a disturbingly large amount of shattered glass in some unlucky civilian's living room. Then his head turned to the source of the voice that had pulled him back to awareness. A lump rose uncomfortably into his throat.

"Tam?"

Kneeling a yard or so away from him was Tamara Fox, with a nervous wide-eyed expression, clutching an empty auto-injector pen with an orange label that Tim recognized from his own utility belt stash as fear toxin antidote.

Tim felt a spike of panic as he looked into Tam's face. "Oh God!" he exclaimed as he tried get to his feet as quickly as he could. "Are you alright?! Did I hurt you?!" Unfortunately, as soon as he got to his feet, the world pitched sideways and he nearly felt fell back to the floor, were it not for Tam rising to her own feet to help steady him.

"Woah there!" Tam said as she tried to help the unbalanced vigilante stay upright. "I'm fine. Don't worry. I'm ok." Then she glanced around the apartment with a weary sigh. "My living room, on the other hand, not so much."

Tim grimaced as he followed her gaze around the room. Near as he could figure, he could visualize how he must have crashed through the glass balcony door while trying to grapple between buildings, based on the gaping hole letting all the cold Gotham air in from her balcony. Following the shard pattern of the broken glass on the floor, he could see how he must have been flying with some speed and hadn't even been able to slow his descent before crashing, if the evidence of the demolished bookshelf that had been leaning against the wall opposite the balcony and the prominent new aches in his own body was any indication.

"I heard on the news that the Scarecrow was on the loose," Tam said as she tried to ease him to the sofa so he could sit down. "I guess you got hit with fear toxin?"

Tim nodded as he sat down, then pushed back his cowl to reveal his face, savoring the cool air as it hit his skin. "Last thing I remember is trying to get somewhere safe to take the antidote and ride things out," he murmured as he scrubbed his face with his hands. "I thought I was trying to get to a safehouse we have in the area."

Tam sat down on the arm of the sofa, her back to the recovering vigilante, and looked at the empty antidote pen in her hand. "And yet you ended up here..." she mused.

"I'm really, really sorry Tam," Tim apologized as he raked his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "I don't know what happened or what I was thinking with the fear toxin took hold." He dared to glance at her out of the corner of his eyes. "Are you sure you're alright? I really didn't hurt you?"

Tam shrugged, then glanced back at him out of the corner of her own eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Whatever that Scarecrow put in that toxin didn't make you go crazy violent or anything." She looked back at the remains of her bookshelf where she'd found him curled up in a fetal position, disturbingly still and silent. "You... you'd gone completely catatonic." She wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "Nothing I said or did reached you, and for a bit the antidote didn't seem to be working. I thought..." Tam shook her head and got to her feet. "It doesn't matter what I thought. The antidote kicked in finally and you'll be ok now, right?"

"Yeah. I'll be ok." Tim watched sadly as Tam immediately knelt down to gather up some of the books that had been scattered by the destruction of their shelves. As she worked, he made a few mental notes about the effects of the Scarecrow's new fear toxin. The old toxin was known for triggering horrific visions and violent reactions in its victims. This new version, triggering catatonia instead of violence, could potentially be a greater threat against anyone in Gotham's vigilante family seeking to subdue the villain.

Tim ought to have been reaching out to Batman and the rest of his family to warn them about this new variant.

However, he couldn't get his mind off the fact that somewhere in the back of his brain, while Scarecrow's fear toxin was trying to take root, the closest safe place he instinctively tried to go to was Tamara Fox's home... no matter how broken their friendship was right now.

"Here. Let me help," Tim offered as he cautiously got to his feet and tested his balance, which was better than it was earlier.

Tam tried to wave him away, though, as she set a stack of books on the sofa and out of the way. "Don't worry about it," she said in a tense voice as she reached for what looked like an old leather bound book. "It's fine. I'm fine. Shouldn't you be getting ba--"

Whatever she was about to say was cut off abruptly when, upon trying to lift up the book by its spine, about thirty pages full of photographs spilled out all over the floor. Tam could only stare at the mess of her beloved childhood memories scattered at her feet, until she felt hot tears begin to fill her eyes.

"Goddamnit," she snapped softly in frustration, her voice breaking slightly as she closed her eyes tightly. "Well isn't this just a perfect metaphor for my life right now?"

Tim looked and felt absolutely gutted the moment he saw and heard all those photo album pages spill onto the floor. For a moment, he was as frozen in place as Tam, unable to do anything except stare at those pictures, at Tam's precious memories scattered haphazardly around her

However, as Tam sank to the floor with another frustrated sob, clutching the remains of her album tight to her chest. he finally jolted into movement.

"I am so... so sorry Tam," he apologized with deep, sincere regret as he knelt beside her and began to carefully gather up the photo pages. The childhood photographer he once was chided him mercilessly in the back of his mind for being the cause of this damage.

Tam sniffled a little and used her free hand to try and scrub the tears from her eyes. "I know... I know..." she murmured as she recomposed herself, set aside the remains of the album cover, and started collecting some of of the photo pages herself. Between the two of them, it should've taken no time at all to pick up all the pictures.

At least, that's how it should have been.

Though the light in the living room wasn't the greatest, only a single nearby floor lamp close to the sofa provided any illumination, Tim kept pausing every now and then to take closer looks at the images, slowing his progress.

These were all clearly pictures of Tam and her family back when she was a child in and around her childhood home when she was maybe nine or ten years old. Everyone looked happy, or at the very least content. He also recognized a younger Lucius Fox interspersed among the pages as well as who he assumed was Tam's mom, her older sister Tiffany, and her younger brother Luke when he was still a toddler.

They were nice photos full of what looked like warm, happy memories.

So why were they giving him such a strange nagging feeling of deja vu?

Tim noticed the corner of a photo that had been dislodged from its album page. Unlike the other photos in the album which were all standard 4"x6" glossy prints, this one appeared to be more squarish in shape with an obvious white border that was thicker at one end. "A Polaroid?" Tim thought to himself curiously as he tugged the photo out from under the other pages. "I haven't seen one of those in years..."

Then, as Tim got a good look at the photo, his breath caught in his throat.

In the photo a young boy and girl were sitting close together on a wooden porch swing, both smiling brightly on a warm summer day. The girl was hugging the boy, who looked a few years younger, as he appeared to have both arms outstretched in front of him just off the image, as if he had been holding the Polaroid camera to take the picture. On the white section of the photograph right beneath the image are words written in black marker by a childish hand.

"Timber & Tami - July 19, 20XX"

About that moment, Tam noticed the photo in Tim's hand. Her gaze softened. "That's my favorite picture," she said fondly as she reached out to tilt the image slightly her way, though she didn't try to take it from Tim.

"Who... was he?"

Tam couldn't help the sad, nostalgic smile that formed on her lips. "He was my best friend." She sighed softly as she continued reminiscing. "He lived next door to me and was raised by his grandma. We practically grew up together because Nana was always babysitting me while my parents were at work."

She glanced at the photos in her hands, and the ones still on the floor. "He was such a geek about cameras and photography," she chuckled warmly. "I remember, Nana gave him this vintage Polaroid camera for his eighth birthday. He was so excited, you'd think he'd won the lotto. I think... this was the first picture he ever took with it." She glanced at the photos in her hands and still on the floor. "He took most of these other ones too, and he gave me the album for my birthday before--"

"Before?"

Tam sighed. "Before his Nana got sick, and he had to move away."

It took a long minute, but finally Tam noticed Tim was strangely quiet. When she turned her attention from the photos to him, she was startled to see him staring at her with an intense wide-eyed expression she'd never seen in those blue eyes before. For the first time in the year since she'd met him, he looked like he was close to tears.

He looked at her like he was staring at a ghost.

Tam felt a tendril of unease coil in her chest. "Tim? What's wro--"

"Tami?" he whispered to her in a small, vulnerable tone. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion and completely unguarded. "Is it really you?"

At first Tam was confused. She glanced between the Polaroid photo held in Tim's now trembling hand before her gaze drifted back up to his face and looked into eyes that were suddenly more familiar than they'd ever been before.

Suddenly, her world shifted.

Tam's own brown eyes went wide with shock as she tried to stifle a gasp with her hands. Then, slowly, she lowered her fingers from her lips.

"Timber?"

The tears that had been threatening to escape Tim's startled blue eyes finally coursed down his cheeks with Tam's word. There was so much emotion warring on his face, and while his mouth opened and closed, nothing seemed able to come out.

Tim reached out for Tam, who was still frozen in her own silent shock.

But before he could reach her, Tim's communicator began to ping, cutting through the silence between them and making both of them jump. Tim's hand retracted away sharply, as if he'd been burned. After taking a second to compose himself, he reached up to press a button on the communicator in his ear.

"Red here," he said, his voice all business, all Red Robin, but stretched tight to near the point of breaking.

"Thank goodness," Oracle's synthesized voice on the comm crackled to life. "Batman and Robin need backup. Batgirl and Nightwing both got hit with fear toxin, but their trackers haven't moved in several minutes."

Tim rose grimly to his feet and turned toward the doorless balcony. "Crane's got a new variant. Triggers catatonia instead of fight or flight. The current antidote works, but takes longer to kick in." He checked his belts to see how many more doses of antidote he had. "If they're immobile either they took the antidote and we're just waiting for it to take effect, or they went catatonic before they could administer in the first place." He sighed as he pulled out his grapple gun to insert a new cartridge. "Who's closest to my location?"

"Nightwing. Sending you coordinates for both."

"I'll be there soon. Make sure to warn B and Robin about the variant. Red out."

Once the comm was disconnected, Tim bowed his head. When he spoke, his Red Robin tone was nowhere to be heard. "I'm sorry Tam..." he whispered, voice full of regret and longing and... something else neither of them could identify. "I have to go--"

But as he turned to glance back timidly at her, Tim's eyes went wide when he suddenly found himself tightly wrapped up in a pair of soft warm arms. His breath hitched in his chest as he felt, more than heard, Tam sob into his shoulder, "It's you."

Without even thinking, Tim wrapped his arms around Tam, pulling her closer and tucking his own face into the crook of her neck. He held her tighter than he ever had before in this past year. All his emotions felt raw and exposed, but in this moment that was ok.

This was his Tami...

His big sister...

His best friend...

His first--

With a deep, shuddering sigh, Tim pulled back slightly, just enough to speak clearly. "I need to go."

Tam pulled back slowly too, until just their hands were interlaced. Finally, she raised her gaze to meet his. "Be careful," she whispered. The weight of so many other things they wished to say to one another hangs in the space between them, and they both know it.

Tim nodded wordlessly. Then, with painful reluctance, he slipped his fingers from her grasp, pulled his cowl back on launched a grappling line out of Tam's apartment. He spares just one final backward glance, his expression masked almost completely by his cowl, before launching himself into back into the night.

Once Tam can no longer see his silhouette against Gotham's skyline, she shivers as a cold wind cuts through her apartment. As she kneels down again to gather her photos, she pulls out her phone with a free hand.

"Hello?"

"Daddy?"

"Tami? What's wrong?"

At the sound of naked concern in her father's voice, Tam's couldn't hold back the tears as they stream down her face or the way her voice trembled and made her feel ten-years-old and broken-hearted in a way she never thought she'd ever feel again.

"Nothing..? Everything..? I don't know..? Can you pick me up please? Can I come home?"

"Of course. Where are you?"

"The apartment."

"Stay right there, baby. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"I will."

Once the call was ended, Tam's eyes fell on that precious old Polaroid photo. With another sob, she gathered it up and held it close as she cried softly until her father arrived.

#tim drake #tam fox #tim/tam #red robin #fanfiction #wip #rr: in hindsight #batfam #batfamily

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years

Text

But? Damian Wayne • Tim Drake

Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader, Tim Drake x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: you go through a lot because of Tim and Damian but in different ways.

Request: do you listen to asmr boyfriend roleplay (on yt)? Some of them would be great as fics.

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, sexual innuendos, language, fluff, a very light mention of violence, light mentions of insecurity, is rain a warning?

A/N: the fact that every fic I’ve written for these characters has the same concept is very funny but I definitely see the appeal and the potential.

Based off these YouTube videos: one two three

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Replaying it didn’t make it easier to digest. After months of plans to move in together and talks about adopting a dog, Tim had broken up with you. He fell for someone else, a person he spoke about often.

She was a coworker of his, a gorgeous woman if anyone asked you. You could never blame him for falling for someone like her, she looked like a model and was a badass agent — it just hurt.

Now you were packing the belongings he kept at your place to send them to him with Alfred. It seemed like he couldn’t only break your heart and walk away, Tim also had to humiliate you. Out of respect, Alfred didn’t ask anything at all, he merely reminded you he was always available for you and wished you a good night.

The TV show playing in front of you wasn’t being processed by your brain. Curled up on the bed, covered with the duvet and a fuzzy blanket, you were desperately trying to conceive some sleep, for your brain to at least calm down so your head would stop throbbing and your eyes twitching.

Startled by tapping on the window, you were forced to swallow the mucus clogging your nose. Coughing, you rolled on the bed to asses who had disturbed you. Upon realizing it was just Robin, you begrudgingly left the bed to open the window.

He entered the room without saying anything, waiting for you to lock the window and close the curtains to take his domino mask off. He always did that, no matter how many times you told him no one would see him.

Damian stared down at the dozens of used Kleenex in the trashcan you kept near the bed. “Why are you upset?”

“I thought you knew...” your voice was strained, throat too tired due to the sobbing.

“I clearly don’t.”

“Tim dumped me for someone else.” Saying it in front of his brother was even worse than you had imagined. “Why are you here if it isn’t because I forgot to pack his brown jacket?”

Damian plopped down on your desk chair, staring directly at you, “patrol was boring and father is with Kyle again.”

Nodding, you went back to your spot on the bed, making yourself comfortable with a pillow on your lap.

“Are you tired?”

You were, but you didn’t want to be alone. “Not at all,” you lied so he wouldn’t dare leave. “Do you want to watch that movie you recommended to me last month?”

“Sure.”

Browsing through different streaming services until you found the film, you saw Damian take parts of his suit off in order to be more comfortable. Surprising you, he sat down on the bed, just beside you, once you had found the title.

You had to admit that paying attention was easier with him around, probably because you didn’t want to annoy him. The film did its job, you finally got distracted — you also fell asleep.

It became a routine, every night he would tap on your window and make you company. Some nights you would stay up until sunrise when you had to go to work, others he would be so tired he’d crash out on your couch, and a few nights you fully rested because his presence made you feel calmer.

Damian and you had never been too close, he and Tim had a complicated relationship and you didn’t want to have problems with your now ex-boyfriend. Now you hoped you had, he wasn’t what you had thought — Damian was nicer than every member of the family made him out to be, funnier, smarter, kinder. You genuinely enjoyed being around him.

He was extremely patient with you. He’d recommend you things to entertain yourself, let you vent when you needed, and without having to do it, would often make sure you had been eating properly because he had observed that between how much you had cried the days after the breakup, your job, and your lack of sleep you were low on energy. Damian had even spent an entire week helping you redecorate the apartment to cheer your spirit.

Being close to Damian meant spending time at the park with Titus, a shit ton of it, and trying new food every weekend, and visiting art galleries which had never been your thing. Being close to Damian also meant worrying because with all of his skills and abilities he was the most stubborn man you had ever met who often fought blindly just to end up in the Batcave's medical wing with a worried Alfred calling you to let you know your friend was hurt but alive.

Most importantly, being close to him meant feeling free to be yourself. You were sure no one would believe you, but it had never been truer.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Elevators had you tired, ironically. The only reason you hadn’t taken the stairs was that you were carrying a portfolio full of documents, a book bag, your purse, and a coat — everything was wet, just like you. Taking an umbrella would’ve saved you many nuisances, or not walking home from work, but you were too distracted in the morning to remember and now you were paying for it thanks to the rain that came with the nearing seasonal change.

You liked the rain, its sound was soothing, the smell made you aware of your own existence as it awakened your senses, you felt cleansed by it. A lovely thing to experience overall, just not after a long day of work.

Stepping out the second the elevator doors slid open, you took the keys out of your coat with your right hand. You let the straps of your purse slide down to your forearm as you flexed your arm while introducing the key in the lock, when it turned, you sighed out of relief and pushed the door open to finally get inside.

The lights were already on, sizzling echoed around the small apartment and a familiar smell of stir-fried vegetables hit your nose. You hung your coat, letting it drip as much water it naturally could before even daring to put it into the dryer.

Walking further into the apartment, you found Damian in the kitchen. He was wearing the comfiest clothes you had seen him on, sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt with only a pair of white socks.

“What are you doing in here with this weather?” you asked, taking a look at what he was cooking.

“I was bored.”

He always said the same, you always told him you didn’t believe him but he ignored it every single time. Patting his back, you announced you would get changed.

“Don’t take too long, dinner will get cold!”

As much as you were fine with Damian being there( and his cuisine,) you had to wonder why couldn’t he tell you his reasonings for his presence at your place. One thing was him visiting when you were there and another him practically breaking into your apartment — you were open to give him a copy of the keys, to be honest, but you would really appreciate it if he asked.

Dinner was delicious, shared over talk about your day. Damian was avoiding speaking about his day, about his entire week actually — in the past month and a half he hadn’t done anything close to that.

Sat on the couch in order to continue bingeing the show the two of you had started last week, you considered asking him what was going on with him. It partially scared you, the last time a member of that family had acted like that toward you they broke your heart.

Taking a deep breath, you threw your head backward to rest it against the edge of the sofa. Damian watched you, frowning. “Are you okay?”

You answered in a hum. “You?”

“Peachy.”

You moved around the couch, opening your eyes to stare at him. He stared back, the frown slowly disappearing from his face as seconds passed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you inquired in a timid voice.

“Father is planning on retiring.”

“Oh... are you taking over?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t picture anyone but him doing it. Dick had been miserable as Batman, Jason wasn’t interested in being like Bruce after everything that had happened, and Cass was finally finding a balance in her life.

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I am.”

“But?”

He shook his head, “but nothing. It was a long day.”

For your mental wellbeing, you didn’t press on it. He was clearly hiding something from you but he had the right to do so. It made you feel bad but whatever.

The lights flickered, prompting you to groan. The storm was getting worse, the sky was rumbling with thunder and the lighting striking the city and flashing into the living room through the thin white drapes was as mesmerizing as terrifying.

You mumbled, “can you stay?”

“Yes.”

Damian walked behind you, holding the flashlight from his cellphone to light the path toward your bedroom. You undid the bed quickly so he wouldn’t have to hold the device up for so long, you were sure it wasn’t an inconvenience to him but you still didn’t want to bother him.

He sat down on the bed, just next to you, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You can sleep next to me if you want.” You felt your face burn up the second the words left your mouth yet you meant them. Oh, you did.

You heard shuffling. Assuming he was taking his sweatshirt off to get into bed, you moved away from the middle of the mattress toward the farthest side from him.

Getting under the duvet, Damian laid on his back. His cologne mixed with his usual smell of vanilla and almonds filled your nostrils as he dropped his head onto the pillow with his arms crossed against his front.

“Dami?” you whispered. He hummed in acknowledgment. “Can you get closer? I’m cold.”

With no hesitation, he turned over in order to lay on his side. Throwing his arm around you from behind, “Is that better?”

You relaxed with your back against his chest, letting a content sigh out. Damian inhaled deeply, taking a whiff off you. He did it again then, finding the smell of your lotion soothing. As he relaxed too, his arm curled around you more comfortably with his hand laying on your plump belly. You placed your hand on top of his, a little nervous yet excited. Being held was a nice feeling, one you had forgotten.

He lifted his fingers, brushing yours. You intertwined your fingers between his, playing with them. He huffed a light breath, caressing the sides of your fingers as you played with his.

Turning around, you got lost into the ethereal way the light from the lamppost entering through the window illuminated Damian’s side profile. He opened his mouth to probably say something but you abruptly shut him up. You did know what overcame you, it was something that had been simmering in you for the past month — the need of being near him, the butterflies that swarmed inside you when he laughed, the peace he brought you. He surprised you by kissing back.

“Shit,” you exclaimed, realizing you had actually done it. “I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupted to assure you. He placed his hand on your lower back, leaning in again. “Can we do it again?”

You kissed him again, feeling him tighten his arm around you in order to pull you closer. He deepened the kiss too, prying your mouth open as you held his face in order to ground yourself mentally. Damian laid you on your back, pushing you into the mattress as he straddled you — his lips didn’t leave yours, not even as both of you whimpered while his hands trailed up and down your thighs and yours mapped his back. Full-on making out with your best friend wasn’t how you pictured your shitty day ending, but you weren’t about to complain.

Damian couldn’t keep his lips off your face, enjoying the softness of your cheeks under his mouth and seeing the natural twitches of your nose which made him realize you were actually awake. He hoped he hadn’t awakened you up.

“I thought you were asleep.” The depth of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. “Were you pretending?”

You hummed, “it was hard with all those kisses.”

“I wasn’t kissing you,” he said teasingly, using his index and middle fingers to lift your head in order to continue kissing your face. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. You?”

He answered, “yes. The best in months.” It felt good knowing you weren’t the only one.

Damian hugged you close with both arms, exhaling happily, “you’re very warm.”

Hiding your face in his chest, you hugged back. You didn’t know what it meant, or the meaning behind the gesture of still cuddling in bed with the guy you had started developing feelings for mere weeks after breaking up with his brother. But it didn’t matter, you were comfortable in his arms and happy with seemingly having cracked his shell.

You had to ask, however. “Did I overstep last night?”

“No, I told you it was okay.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He pulled away enough to fully face you. You attempted to ignore him, shifting under his gaze. Damian licked his lips, “did I make you think otherwise?”

You shook your head, the sound the friction of the side of your face made against the pillow too loud for your liking. “I just... I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Is this ruining our friendship?”

You stuttered, “I— I think so?” You weren’t sure.

“I want to ruin it,” he stated, eyes fixed on yours, “more than anything.”

Your eyes dropped to his mouth as he said it, his full lips tempting you again. You were scared of the lack of guilt you were feeling, but you happily gave in. “Let’s ruin it, then.”

Smiling brightly, he dipped his face in order to kiss you. You were certain you would never get over his soft lips, the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his touch, his intoxicating scent, his silky voice... God, he truly had you smitten.

Nuzzling against your shoulder, he intertwined his legs with yours. “I don’t want to get out of bed yet.”

You giggled. “Then don’t.”

Damian decided he could do that, just cuddle his favorite person in the world until something came up, maybe.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

You had been typing on your computer, as music harmonized your den-office when the doorbell rang. Looking at the time to try and guess who could be visiting you on a Tuesday noon, you pushed yourself back, away from the desk, in order to stand up.

Dot, the Labrador you had adopted no long ago wiggled her tail from her spot near the couch as you crossed the living room. She loved laying there, she had a good view of the door and could jump on you the second you got home.

You regretted opening the door the second you faced your visitor. Tim Drake smiled timidly at you, “hi, (Y/N).”

“I— uh, hello?” You tilted your head, confused as to what he was doing there, who had given him the address and why had he thought he would be welcome.

“Can I come in?”

You lifted your index finger. “Just a second.”

Opening the guest-closet, you took a pair of slippers out and padded back toward the door. Tim looked down at the slippers you were offering to him, then at his shoes — as he did, he realized you weren’t wearing any footwear.

He complied, taking his shoes off and sliding his feet into the slippers. When he asked where to put the pair of footwear he had just taken off, you pointed to a mat next to the door, just under the key holders. You closed the front door as he dropped his shoes.

“Wow,” he exclaimed, eyes taking in as much of the space around him as possible, “your taste has changed! How long has it been?”

“A little over a year and a half.”

“We really need to catch up!”

You motioned for him to sit down on the couch. Dot curiously stared at him when he did so while you asked, “do you want anything to drink?”

“Coffee would be fine,” he answered just to have more time to examine the living room. It was extremely luxurious, with a vaulted ceiling and oversized windows.

Curious about the overall design of the penthouse, and how good your job had to be for you to be able to pay for such living arrangements, he followed you toward the kitchen where you were preparing his coffee. It was as full of luxury as the living room, with stainless steel appliances, granite counter-tops and a breakfast bar the size of your previous apartment’s entire kitchen.

“How have you been?” He asked, sliding his palm against the marbled breakfast bar.

“I’ve been great.” You gave him a tight smile, placing the sugar bowl onto the bar.

“I’m glad. How’s your family?”

“They’re great, thank you.” Out of courtesy, you asked, “how have you been?”

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “well, after I abruptly broke up with you, from which I’m very sorry because I was a dick, my girlfriend broke up with me too...”

“I’m sorry.” You genuinely felt for him, being dumped out of the blue wasn’t something you wished upon anyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, you handed it to him.

“It’s okay,” he smiled openly, nodding as a thank you for the coffee and dropping a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into the beverage, “I’m over it. I moved to Europe when Bruce said he needed someone to supervise the branch of the company there, the drama wasn’t good for my spirit.”

“Why are you back? It’s not like Gotham has changed.”

“My best friend is getting married.”

You hummed, finding estrange that you hadn’t been invited to the wedding.

“You have a new boy or anything?”

You stuttered, dropping a teabag into a cup, “perhaps.”

“Come on, (N/N), tell me! I won’t get mad.” He deviated his gaze. “I’m over you and everything.”

You confessed then, pouring hot water on top of the herbs, “I am dating Damian.”

“Which Damian?”

You waited for your ex-boyfriend to swallow the sip of coffee he had just taken and took the opportunity to have a sip of tea to calm your nerves. “Wayne,” you explained.

“You’re dating my little brother?!” He whisper-shouted. You simply nodded. “For how long?”

“Eleven months.”

“So what? You ran into his arms as soon as I broke up with you?!”

You didn’t appreciate the tone he was using or what he was insinuating. Definitely not when he had cheated on you without for once thinking of sparing your feelings.

“Damian was there for me when no one else had the time, it just happened.”

“I thought you were going to stay away from my family,” he reproached you.

In all honesty, you had thought the same thing. As much as Alfred had told you to call him if you needed anything when he went to pick up the belongings Tim kept at your place, you hadn’t planned on doing it — but that same night, when Damian arrived, tired after a long patrol, and playing dumb by saying he had just dropped by because he was bored you decided you didn’t have to, you didn’t want to. Eventually, you evolved, as many things had after that night, not for Damian nor because of him but next to him, with his patience and support.

“I can’t believe you,” he shook his head.

“I thought you were over me.”

“I’m not jealous! But you deserve better than him — you’re so pretty and nice and he’s selfish and mean and depends on Bruce for everything.”

That didn’t sound like Damian at all. “Maybe you don’t know your brother.”

“You’re telling me he’s changed? Because I don’t believe it.”

You couldn’t be a testimony of Damian’s change when you had never seen the version Tim described, but you could definitely say Damian was everything you had always wanted in a partner and more — he was what you needed, what you loved.

“You still can do way, waaaaaay better than him,” Tim interpreted your silence as a confirmation of Damian’s change.

“Like who, Timothy?”

“Like me!” he exploded, clenching his eyes shut for a couple seconds to control his breathing. “I’ll go straight to the point: I miss you. I came back to get you back, there’s no wedding. I was too stupid to see what I had when I had it, I know, but I’ve changed,” he assured, “I have a new philosophy, I’m surrounded by better people. I’m not blind anymore.”

“Neither I am.”

He ignored your comment and went on, “let’s just start again. In another country, a new house. We’ll adopt as many puppies as you want!” Tim took an envelope out, “I have two plane tickets here for tomorrow. One is yours.”

The front door unlocked loudly, prompting both you and Dot to crane your necks in order to stare at it. Damian pushed it open, shoes in hand and blazer draping over his forearm.

You saw him focus on the pair of shoes on the mat for mere seconds before Dot happily wiggled her tail at him as she approached him. Damian threw his blazer to the nearest couch, quickly undoing his tie which followed suit, before hunching down to pet the little dog.

Out of habit, you left the kitchen to walk toward him and greet him. He stood back up, naturally towering over you and kissing you softly, “hello, beloved.”

You giddily smiled, forgetting you weren’t alone, “hi, handsome. I missed you.” Wrapping your arms around his waist, you inhaled his scent. God, you had truly missed him. Sleeping without him wasn’t the same, nor having to rely on music or the tv for the place to not feel alone. Two days of not hearing his voice not waking up tangled up with him were too much sometimes.

Damian put his hands on your waist, sighing at finally being able to touch your soft body again. “I missed you more.” He leaned downward, placing his lips on yours again.

“(Y/N),” Tim pleaded from behind you, making you jump.

Damian parted from you, looking past your shoulder and directly at his brother. “Drake. What are you doing in here?”

You stepped to the side, opting for opening the terrace’s door so Dot could have some fun outside. In the background, as you leant against the doorway and watched the little dog sniff the terrace, you heard Tim say Alfred had given him the address. Oh, sweet Alfred, always trying to keep the family together.

Turning around, you saw them both sit down in front of each other in the living room. Trying to keep them from fighting, you walked back into the room and sat down next to your boyfriend.

Tim immediately told you, “please don’t throw it all to waste for him.”

Both Damian and you frowned. He put his hand on your thigh, like he had done the first time he had taken you to a business dinner as his date, like he had grown used to do under any table. It was your favorite gesture, he wasn’t a big fan of PDA but he still made sure to always be touching you — the fact that he loved your thighs when you had always been insecure due to their size was a nice addition.

“I’m over you, Tim. Damian is my boyfriend, and with who I want to be.”

“He’ll never love you like I do, he can’t.” Tim’s tone was the harshest you had heard from him.

He was right, though. Damian would never love you like Tim did, that was the whole point. You didn’t want what Tim had to offer, the kind of love he could give — you were past that, you had been for a long time now and it felt amazing.

Tired and spent, Damian hugged you extremely tightly while cuddling that night, almost to the point where you struggled to breathe. Wiggling in his arms in order to turn around and face him, you wrapped your arms around him as best as you could.

“What’s wrong, Dami?”

“Nothing.”

You dropped yourself onto your back, struggling to bring him in but ultimately succeeding. Damian sighed, shifting to be more comfortable as he laid his head on your bare chest.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. Damian inhaled your scent, sighing in content — he was in his safe place. “I sometimes forget not everyone sees me the way you do.”

You supposed he was referring to Tim’s assumptions about him. “Does it bother you?”

“Only when they use it to try putting you against me.”

“You know they would never succeed, right?” You needed him to be aware of that.

“I do.”

“But?”

He moved to hover over you, fitting his legs between yours as he propped himself up with his elbows. “But it’s different when your ex does it. And no, I’m not jealous, I do trust you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. You understood what he meant, perfectly so. Damian had been there to pick up the pieces, he had helped you glue them together and even taught you to tweak them so the final piece would look better — with that, beautiful things had bloomed, but in between many tears had been shed on your behalf and many confessions had been made regarding your feelings in general; sprinkle in how hard it had been to process the fact that you had fallen for each other and you could understand where he was coming from. There was a piece of Damian in you, and there was a piece of you in him; at every level.

“It’s not relevant anymore, love,” you reminded him.

Damian caught your lips in a tender kiss, humming. “I just wish he wasn’t back.”

“He’ll be gone by tomorrow. And if he isn’t, I don’t care.” You started playing with his hair, unconsciously running your fingers up and down through his locks. “But I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with your brother because of me.”

“We’ve spoken about that.”

Damian had never been able to get along with Tim, his relationship with Dick was great and he had even built one with Jason, Cass was his favorite, and he had gotten to meet with Helena a few times. However, his resentment toward Tim heightened when you two started frequenting each other — he seemed to now despise him.

You tilted your head to pepper kisses over his jaw. “You’ll manage, Damian. You ignored him for years.”

Your boyfriend sighed dramatically, letting his weight gradually fall on top of you. Placing his hand on your cheek, he smirked before burying his face in your neck. “Besides,” Damian mumbled, “he’s not the one keeping you up tonight.”

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake x plus size reader #plus size fanfiction #plus size reader #robin x reader #robin x plus size reader #damian wayne #robin #dc x plus size reader #dc x reader #batfam x plus size reader #batfam x reader

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stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 4 years

Text

Undone Part 1

Request: Could you do a Bruce Wayne x female reader. The reader is Bruce’s ex best friend that he harshly pushed away so she wouldn’t get hurt. They never spoke to each other but one day she’s in trouble so he saves her then kisses her or something. If it’s not to much trouble then could there be fluff and angst?

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Female!Reader

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Arguments, angst

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Bruce Wayne all your life. You’d stuck by each other’s side through thick and then, and maybe, just maybe you saw him as more than a friend. But when you admit to knowing his secret, your whole world is turned upside down.

A/N: Part 2 will be up later this week!

Part 1 of 2

Part 2

It had been three years since you'd left Gotham. Three years since you'd taken a managerial position at an international section of your Father's tech company. But with his recent announcement that he was retiring at the end of the year and you as the natural heir, you'd been forced back to take up his position as CEO. You didn't mind, in fact, you were looking forward to it, having ideas to shake things up some already, but you'd left for a reason and you weren't entirely sure you were ready to face it yet.

Said reason sauntered through the main door of the hall, stunning model on either arm.

It had been three years since you last saw, or spoke, to Bruce Wayne.

~Three Years Ago~

"Bruce, you have to talk to me." You locked the door of the office, blocking it off with crossed arms as you watched Bruce try to hide the blood-stained shirt he'd just been wearing.

"I'm fine, Y/N," he said, keeping his back to you as he pulled on a clean, crisp shirt in place of the old one.

"Fine?! Bruce you disappear for years on some sort of impromptu sabbatical that you told no one about, making us all think you were dead, then show up again covered in scars with a penchant of adding mysterious new ones! What about that is fine exactly?"

Bruce heaved a sigh, shoulders rising and falling as he finished with the shirt and put the tie back on. "It's nothing. Just an accident."

"Don't lie to me. I know you better than that."

Bruce finally turned back to face you, once again appearing as if he didn't have what looked to be a knife wound. "Then stop prodding, Y/N, please. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"And I know what you're doing."

"What?"

Dropping your arms you took a step forward. "You really thought I wouldn't figure it out? The late nights, the injuries, the lame excuses? The fact that you came home barely a month before He first appeared? We've known each other all our lives, I can see you, even through a mask."

Bruce actually looked surprised, and you could all but hear the cogs in his head whirl. "Y/N…"

"I'm not going to try and stop you, you're too stubborn for that, but I can help maybe…"

"No."

"No?"

"I don't want or need your help." His tone had suddenly gone cold and instinctively you stepped away again. He'd never been cold with you, you'd barely seen him be cold with anyone.

"Bru-"

"What would you even have to offer? Just spend all night nagging away in my ear and annoying me?"

You scoffed, not quite sure what you’d just heard. “You’re saying I annoy you?” Bruce didn’t reply but the look was enough. “Wow. Over twenty years of being friends and I’m still finding out new things. Tell me, have I always been an annoying nag?”

“No. But things change. People change. We aren’t children anymore, Y/N, and there definitely aren’t many who remain friends into adulthood.”

Digging your nails into the palm of your hand was the only reason you didn’t flinch. “You’re really so willing to throw everything we have away? Just like that?”

“We don’t have anything.”

That hurt. You’d been through thick and thin together, did Bruce really care so little about all that? The icy glare he was giving you suggested he did. “Wish you hadn’t taken six months to tell me that, Bruce. I wouldn’t have wasted my time being concerned.”

Something flickered in Bruce’s eyes but it was gone again before you could read it. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Why would I be upset?! It’s only my best friend telling me that I annoy him and wants nothing to do with me! What’s to get upset about?!”

“You’re proving my point.”

“I’m proving you’re an ass! You’re right, Bruce, people do change. And not always for the better.”

“I changed so I could get help people.”

“Yeah, you’re a real hero. And one day that’s going to get you killed. You’ll die, alone, realizing that you’ve pushed away those who actually cared about you, loved you. Gotham will mourn for Batman. Who’ll mourn for Bruce?”

“I don’t need people to mourn me or care about me, and this is exactly why I don’t want you around or in my life. At all.”

“Yeah. Bruce Wayne the genius. Always right.” You smiled bitterly and turned away, walking the few steps to the office door. You paused at the handle, and glanced over your shoulder. Bruce met your eyes and for a second you thought he was going to apologize. Then he looked away and went to stare out the window. “Goodbye, Bruce,” you whispered, letting the oak door click shut behind you.

That was the last time you’d seen or spoken to him. Three weeks later you left Gotham and hadn’t looked back since.

Now here you were, watching him draw everyone's gaze as he charmed the room. He looked good, surprisingly, not at all like he'd been roaming the streets as a bat for years. Despite everything, you were grateful for that. He'd broken your heart that day, but it never meant that you wished him harm.

Turning away from the scene of Bruce schmoozing the guest of honor at this party, you plucked a flute of champagne from a nearby tray, and meandered around, making small talk here and there. You spotted Daniel, a swimwear model and your date for the night here and there, flirting with a few of the older ladies. Maybe you should've been jealous, but you really weren't. Both of you already knew you wouldn't see each other again once the night was over.

You were talking to a small group of women who worked for your father, discussing plans for the future, when a presence sidled up just behind your shoulder.

"Evening, ladies," Bruce's voice greeted, ever charming, sending a shiver down your spine. "Do you mind if I steal Ms. Y/L/N for a minute?"

The women of course dispersed, and you picked up another flute, before looking at Bruce as he moved around in front of you. "Mr. Wayne," you greeted, fixing on your best professional demeanor you usually only saved for the boardroom. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"I just wanted to say 'hello'."

"You could've said that next week, I'm sure you're aware that I'll be attending our partnership meeting with my father."

"Of course, but I didn't want you to take offense and think I was ignoring you."

"I assure you, Mr. Wayne, there was no chance of that. Three years of dealing with pig-headed men who think they know better tend to ensure one isn't so easily upset."

"You're right, I'm sorry." It was strange seeing Bruce like this. He looked unsure like he was off-balance and that wasn't something that happened often. "How are you?"

"Never better, though I do miss Paris. Working there was a challenge, but it was fun too."

"I was surprised when you took the position there. Even more surprised when I heard you coming back to take over as CEO. You never expressed interest in that."

He was right. When you were younger the thought of stuffy offices and board meetings had been the exact opposite of what you wanted, instead wanting to focus on the people the company could help. You'd only agreed to your father's idea of Paris to get away from Bruce. But it had also shown you that running the company would give you even greater power to help. "As you said yourself, Mr. Wayne, people change."

It was almost undetectable but Bruce flinched at your words. "They do. And you have, for the better, I'd say. You'll do good things for the company."

You nodded, forcing yourself not to empty the glass of champagne. Why was Bruce being so nice? So insistent on making conversation? Why did he even care about what you wanted these days? You sipped at the alcohol, glancing around the room in a hope to spot an escape. No luck.

"Are you here alone?" Bruce asked.

"No." You gestured towards Daniel who was still flirting around.

"Boyfriend?"

You laughed and shook your head. "Definitely not."

"You were never one for casual encounters."

"Neither were you, yet here we are."

"People change."

"Yeah." Damning civility, you downed the rest of the champagne and set the glass down. "I need to go. I have some early meetings."

You started to move away but Bruce stopped you by clasping your wrist gently. At the death glare he received he released you once again. "Y/N, can we talk, please?"

"We've been talking for the last ten minutes. Or was it hours? Felt like it."

"In private."

There was something in his eyes you couldn't place, it looked like pain, and your heart clenched a little. You knew you should just walk away and leave him, that you'd regret agreeing to go somewhere private, but despite everything, you still couldn't hate him as much as you wanted to. "Fine."

"Thank you." Bruce started to move through the crowd with you following behind him. He led you out into the small garden, closing the doors behind you both once he'd checked to make sure it was empty.

"So?" You asked arms crossed over your chest. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to say that I missed you."

That sent you reeling and was definitely the last thing you'd expected to come out of his mouth. "You don't get to say that."

"Y/N…"

"No," you snapped. "You're the reason I left! You threw everything we had in my face and pushed me away! So you don't get to say that."

"You're right. And I'm sorry for the things I said. I regret them, more than I can say, but I did it for you."

"For me?! Breaking my heart was for me? How, exactly, Bruce?"

"I was trying to protect you. You caught me off guard when you said what you knew, and then you started talking about helping and immediately all I could think of was how everything in Gotham had become more dangerous for you, and that I needed to keep you safe! I realize now that I went about it in the worst way, but blocking you out like that was all I could think of at the time."

"Fuck you." Even Bruce looked shocked at the coldness in your tone. "You had no right to just decide my fate for me. If you were concerned you should've talked about it like a fucking man! Not demolish an entire friendship like it was nothing!"

"I know-"

"Do you? Do you have any idea what it felt like to hear your best friend say that you're annoying, that they don't want to be around you anymore, that the whole friendship was one-sided? No, you don't."

"I'm sorry-"

"Stop saying that! Stop saying you're sorry when you aren't! If you really did care then why not reach out? A call or a text or a damned email?!"

"Because you were happy! I saw what you were doing in Paris, how well you were succeeding! I wasn't going to distract you from that!"

"Sounds like a cowards excuse to me. I had plenty of friends over there, a single call to try and make amends would've hardly been unmanageable! You were too chicken to say sorry, just like you were too chicken to just fucking talk to me in the first place!" You turned away from him, heels clicking on the concrete as you paced, wishing you had another drink.

"You're right, I was. You've been right about everything! I got hurt and all I could think about was how I wished I had you next to me, or talking me through it."

You hated the thought of Bruce hurt like that, but you refused to let the sympathy creep into your heart. "I loved you, Bruce. I was in love with you! You went away then came back and it hit me. I loved you so wholly I would've done anything for you, risked anything for you. Knowingly and willingly. All I wanted was to be with you."

"And now?" Bruce's voice was barely a whisper.

"I hate you." It was a lie, but it landed the blow you wanted it to. Bruce did actually look like he'd been punched in the gut. "You're not the man I thought you were. Not even close. The best thing you did was push me away because now I don't have to waste any more years loving someone so cold and cruel."

It seemed he had no more to say in his defense, so you headed back towards the door. You paused and looked at him. "I'll work with you, Mr. Wayne, for the sake of both our companies, but any sort of friendship we had is over, and that's not going to change."

Bruce took a moment and you could see him compose himself. He took a breath and nodded. If you didn't know him, you would've missed the pain in his eyes as he spoke. "Of course, Ms. Y/L/N. Have a good evening."

You left without saying goodbye, texting Daniel that you weren't feeling well so were heading home alone. He didn't seem to mind. Tears burned at your eyes as you slipped into the back of your car, it taking all your strength not to let them fall. Maybe you'd been too harsh with him, but after all the pain he'd caused you, it almost felt good to get back at him. Almost. Mostly it just broke your heart all over again.

At least things couldn't get any worse.

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! (I’ll love you forever!)

Tagging: @medicatemedrmccoy @thefanficfaerie @bkwrm523 @theweepingvulcan91 @sagyunaro @verdonafrost @huntersstuff591 @notsohappysunflower @quoththe-raven @startrekstartrash @thatanonymouschocolate @malaanii @bookcaseninja @alwayshave-faith

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #bruce wayne #batman #DC Universe #dc imagine

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who-is-tommy-elliot · 4 years

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@thesphynxheir

Hesitation is by far the most telling of all elements he had noticed in that situation. His own surprise had given space to observing them, the way the gun was pressed against his jaw, the hand on his shoulder and even the look in Thomas’ eyes. Truly he didn’t expect to see the man after what they went through, so much he didn’t even have his cane around this time to defend himself. It didn’t seem necessary now Edward thought, watching the chain reaction to his words as Hush seemed to have a hard time even processing the information.

When he’s released, he can’t help but glare at the other man with a hint of disappointment. “I am flattered that you’ve spent sleepless nights plotting to kill me, but to get here so tired that you stumble your way through it? Now that’s simply embarrassing.” Seems like his opportunity arrives not long after... As suspected, the gun wasn’t even loaded and in his rushed attempt to change that Elliot drops the weapon. Time to act.

“Oh, I don’t think so!” Though there’s not much around him he can use to defend himself Nygma is quick enough to kick the gun out of Hush’s reach. There aren’t many options for him at the moment so the next reasonable (as reasonable as he could be under this much pressure) step is trying to push the man down and throw him off his balance. Problem is, considering his own size this could prove to be a real challenge.

Tommy flinched with the gun being kicked out of the way, and he glared solidly at him, hand hovering where the gun had been on the ground. Damnit. His vision was all knocked to the side, his reflexes slower, and the worst of it? He hadn’t even realised how bad of a shape he was in. Everything was, arguably, perfectly planned, up until the actual act. The theory? Perfect. Everything else was flawed-. He scowled at Ed, looking to where he'd kicked the gun: Way across the room and way out of reach, even with his own confidence in how fast he could move. "Shut up," Tommy snapped at Edward, his voice sour and the slightest-bit slurred. If Edward wasn't plenty aware of how Tommy acted while intoxicated, it could easily be mistaken for that.

"You're weak, Nygma. Barely worth my time. You think I need a gun to smash your skull against the wall?" He laughed, his grin cocky through his bandages, enough so that any insecurities he had in his miscalculations could be masked up in an air of smugness. He threw his arms in the air, emphasising his size in comparison to the much more meek Edward Nygma. Tommy was, afterall, arguably, a perfect replica of Bruce Wayne. Not just in face, but much similar in body, too.

"What, did you just expect me to never come back to you?" He mocked, hand pressed against his chest through a slight tilt of his head. "You were my favorite patient, Eddie. We have plenty of history, I mean- Without me you'd be dead. I wish I left you to die," the honest of those words didn't matter when he couldn't think straight enough to decide if he meant them. "And what are you going to do against it? Kill me? I may be lacking a few hours sleep, but I don't exactly think your precious Batman will be especially happy with you if you stooped back down to murder. How does it feel knowing your entire life is surrounded by lives? How long do you really think this gig of yours is going to last?"

#thesphynxheir #[Edward Nygma; The Sphynx]#i APOLOGIZE

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itsbxtgirl-a · 4 years

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you'll be fine, i'm right here by your side // timsteph

WHO: Tim Drake & Stephanie Brown. With mentions of Bruce Wayne, Ra’s Al Ghul.

WORDS: 4503 words.

LOCATION: The Batcave.

GENERAL NOTES: Steph gets sick and tired of Tim’s behavior, ignoring his feelings and pushing everyone away. She decides to do something about it only for it to turn in a direction she didn’t expect. Tears are shed, feelings are blurted out.

WARNINGS: Mild violence in the form of sparring. Timsteph being emo and making US emo in the process!

STEPH:

Steph prided herself on knowing Tim better than most people. Even when he kept things in and shut the world out, she was still there. She had been watching him be more...well. Bruce like, and it was killing her. Memories of her days at Batgirl and falling more and more for the man she called her best friend seemed distant and she hated that. So she was going to fix it, come hell or high water. That’s how she found herself at the manor, making her way to the batcave, clad in her usual work out attire and her long blonde hair tied up into a ponytail. She had to bite back the sigh that threatened to leave her as soon as she saw Tim was already in there, going to town on training dummies. He was clearly already in some type of mood and Steph just had to nudge him further into the direction to let him get his feelings out. That was going to be trying in itself.

Grabbing two of the training staffs, Steph made her way over to Tim and twirled one in her dominant hand experly before whipping it out to hit the back of his knee harshly. “Let’s go. We’re sparring and I’m not taking no for an answer, Red.” She said simply. “We did this when I was Batgirl and we’re doing it again now. We’re going to do whatever we have to in order to break you out of this entirely too Bruce shaped hole you’ve dug yourself into. So let’s go. Now.” Her eyes were lit with a determined fire, refusing to back down from this. Besides, Steph had some of her own frustrated and hurt feelings that she could definitely work out through sparring. Especially considering they involved the very man standing before her.

TIM:

A hard thud, heavy breathing. His head was throbbing, and it was probably because he hadn't had his fourth cup of coffee that had gone cold by now, sitting pretty on the Computer's keyboard while he'd felt the sudden urge to release.

Dick taught him to talk, but Bruce taught him to fight.

One heaved breath had Tim back upright, flexing his sore, wrapped fingers. He didn't check for blood, if anything there would be some nice scrapes and blossoming bruises he'd have to explain to his professors. They shouldn't worry so damn much...

At once he was hit. One knee fell to the never-soft-enough mats, a hand whipping down to balance him as he shot nearly a glare behind him. It only softened a fraction when he saw who dealt the blow to his balance. Steph. How did she get here? Did she disarm the alarms?? Did Al let her in??? Why wasn't he made aware?! Another hard huff, his tense shoulders only dropping with the releasing air. "I'm... Not.... In a Bruce-Shaped hole, whatever that means." His voice was a growl, but the back of his mind regretted the tone as soon as the words left his mouth. He shouldn't be like this, Steph shouldn't be seeing him like this. He couldn't help being mad, from years of repressing emotions he couldn't explain away or detective his head around, the white hot core sitting in his stomach nearly numbed anything besides anger: anger purely at himself.

With an almost too expert air, he smoothly got back on both feet and swiped one of the staffs from the other hero, the familiar weapon feeling all too comfortable in his hands. It was a lightning rod for him to channel his turmoil into, and... he really didn't want to know what he was going to do next. Something told him to stop while he was ahead, to just drop the charade, the mask, and admit he's a lovestruck fool, but his training was telling him otherwise. His training told him to scare her off, before she got hurt.

Or worse.

"Clearly you're not in the mood for banter. Come on."

STEPH:

Steph merely scowled the moment the glare was directed back at her. The steady anger that had been building and building for what seems like ages was rising, and fast. "Oh? You don't know what it means? Really? You're being an asshole, Tim. Don't try to lie to me. You promised, no lies." That promise felt like a distant memory, one that was becoming harder and harder to cling to. She knew Tim Drake, knew him better than anyone else on this planet and even that felt like it was slipping from her grasp. "You're refusing to feel, whatever's going on with you ends here." That anger was only boiling at a faster rate, she could feel it all through her body. Her ears might as well be blowing out steam with how angry she was getting.

"Clearly." Steph spat out at Tim and immediately went in on the man before her, swinging at him in harsh and blunt hits. There was red practically painting her vision, clouding over with hurt and pent up frustration at the situation that was her love for one Timothy Jackson Drake. "You are pushing us away. All of us. I know you have endured so much pain in your lifetime, Tim, but you don't have to shoulder it alone." She bit out in between hits and blocks, swinging her staff around to deliver a sharp hit to his side, sure to bruise. "Do you even realize how much I do for you? How often I go out of my way to make sure you're okay? Then you just shove me away. I do something nice for you, the Valentine's gift, and in return get something nice then the remark of 'it was embarrassing." Steph hated the tears that stung at her eyes, forcing them back, focusing on her anger instead. "I want you back, Tim, my best friend. You're hiding in this shell of yourself and I hate it."

TIM:

No more lies. The memory was always fresh, younger kids standing in this very cave, unmasked to both, secret identities revealed for better or for worse. Icy eyes squinted, squaring up to his newfound opponent, resting the bo in his right hand, pressed against the flat of his forearm, preparation. Not only was Steph a formidable opponent against his own training from Lady Shiva, but she sounded pissed. Rightfully so, he deserved this anger, he needed her to be this mad. He just didn't expect her to approach him about it, that made things a bit more difficult.

Even though he could catch her telegraphs, Steph was fast and loose. It was hard on his already plenty sore muscles, the crack of wood on wood reverberating against the noise clouding his mind, the screams that this was wrong, this wasn't supposed to happen. "I... Have to!" Tim grunted out, a hard parry throwing him off balance to slam right into a connecting hit. His eyes shot wide open at the immediate burst of pain. It was almost... a release. He felt some of the heat of the anger he'd held before drain and localize entirely in the blooming colors at his waist. Fuck.

"I'm doing what I have to, to keep you safe, Steph!" Getting his bearings again, Tim launched into another bout of attacks, blocks, swings. "To keep you all safe!" There was a stinging at the corners of his eyes, it nearly matched the screaming in his arms, the searing at his sides and on his knuckles. Strangely, it didn't drive him forward... It felt like it was adding to the molasses slowing him down. "I have to hide things, hide feelings, or they'll be used against me like they always are, even by Him, I'm not safe from Batman's shit!!" He was slipping, he could feel it. If he didn't get his bearings, if he didn't let his emotions take over his logic, he might just reveal a little... too much.

STEPH:

Tim wasn't being sloppy, he was never sloppy (unless he was extremely sleep deprived), but he seemed almost sluggish. It felt like it was make it much easier than usual for Steph's hits to collide with his body. She could feel the anger coursing through her body like an untapped flow of lava, practically burning her from the inside out. She was tired of pretending like she was okay with him pushing her away, with all these feelings that weren't reciprocated. That the way he had been acting didn't make her want to scream.

"Have to?!" Steph snapped harshly, "you don't have to keep me—us safe! We're not fucking inept, Timothy!" Another swing. Another block. The words were lodged in her throat, threatening to claw its way out in a moment's notice. Her knuckles were white with how tightly she was holding onto the bo staff, launching into a much more aggressive attack, intent on connecting each hit. "I know you've been through a lot, Tim, more than anyone should have to endure, but we're not sheep being sent to the slaughter. We can more than handle ourselves—" A hard hit to the shoulder, one to the thigh, shoving the end of her staff against his chest. "—and you know that. You're just scared."

Steph swept her foot out, intent on knocking Tim down. "What feelings are you even talking about? You shouldn't hide what you're feeling, Tim, no matter what bullshit Bruce spouts at us all. You're isolating yourself and that is not okay and I'm done putting up with it. You're not shoving me away. Not anymore."

TIM:

While his brow kept its deep crease, his snarl still baring his teeth against the effort, he felt some sort of wetness fall from his face. He didn't have time to think, or check for that matter, if it was blood or sweat or tears. He almost didn't care, he was laser-focused on the body in front of him, trying to catch her swings as easy as he usually did when they were training. This wasn't usual, he yelled at himself silently. She was out for release, revenge. Think, Detective. What are you feeling?

The familiar inner question had him miss, miss-calculate, almost stopping his heart in the seconds before he felt another hit, and another, and another. She was throwing him off balance, he would've commended the strategy if they weren't having a dispute through it all. The impact on his chest, sternum, not fractured, had him stumbling, and the moment he felt contact against his legs again, he was hitting the mats hard. It knocked the rest of the air out of his lungs, gasping to draw it in again, sputtering at whatever he was choking on in his throat. Why are you crying, Detective?

"Don't... Don't compare me to him... We're nothing alike!!" The harsh shaking sobs combined into knife-sharp rage, silvery and meant to cut. It wasn't for her, no, he would never mean that for her, it was for the man 'generous' enough to adopt him when... dad.

"I'm not... I'm nothing. I should be nothing, then... thennnNNNN-" Tim didn't take much time getting back up, using the staff as a means to almost vault himself back on his feet, albeit a bit shaky from the current pain shooting through his body. "Then no one else dies!!" His anger was still there as he readied himself again, en garde, but something replaced the fire in his icy eyes. His breath was hitching, shaking his head to clear something that dared to run through it too much, echoing and echoing like mad. Detective. What. Do. You. Truly. Feel.

"I can't... Lose you too..."

STEPH:

The blood was pumping, elevating the former Batgirl's anger. She wasn't one to bottle things up, but this was a culmination of all her pent up feelings in regards to Tim. Her anger that he was pushing her away, pushing them all away. It wasn't fair, that she loved him so much it left her aching and he just got to push her away like it was nothing. So maybe her strategy was a bit more aggressive, giving into an anger that was punching its way right out of her. Each hit that connected drained that anger out, inch by inch. She watched Tim hit the mat and her movements halted, but for a moment, seeing the tears. It twisted that anger up into something achingly sad, enough to have Steph taking a momentary step back.

There were no words, lost in her throat only for a new rage to be ignited when he shoved himself back onto his feet. "You're not nothing! You've never been nothing. You've got to stop this whole self blaming shit, you did nothing. You didn't kill anyone, Tim. You've been caught in the crossfire of so many bad situations, of bad guys seeing that little sliver of victory, but that is not. your. fault." Her breathing was almost ragged, unsure if it was from exerting herself with sparring or if it was from wave after wave of emotions she had been holding back for much too long. They were crashing into her like a violent tsunami. There was a wetness on her face, hand coming up to touch her cheek and register it was her crying now.

"You won't lose me. If you can't see that I would do anything for you, then you're a lot stupider than I thought." The words were coming out now. She couldn't stop them now that the floodgates had opened up. "I have always been here, Tim. Morning, night, rain or shine, I've been here. You keep pushing me away and it hurts. It hurts more than anything. Because I—" Steph let out a growl and slammed her staff against the ground, akin to a toddler stomping its foot in the midst of a temper tantrum.

"—I love you, you idiot! It's always been you! There could be a room full of people and I'd only see you. Through Spoiler, Robin, Batgirl, only to be back at Spoiler the one consistent thing in my life was you and my feelings for you. You aren't going to lose me, Tim, because I'm not going anywhere. It'd take a hell of a lot to ever pull me from you." It was quiet, too quiet. Steph's knuckles were white with the force she was holding onto her staff. She said too much. The tears were coming faster now, Steph taking a staggering step back and angrily wiping at her face with the back of her hand. "You're not going to lose me." She whispered once more.

TIM:

The barrage of words hit all at once. Tim tried so hard to stay a rock, a brick wall, against it all, but this... this was Steph. The girl who'd been there through it all, every single thing. Not just the traumas, but the highs and lows, if the lowest lows didn't count towards that. He felt he could only stand there, buried alive by her screams as he left her guard down through her monologue. His body told him he should attack, he has the chance, he can still win this spar... No. No, this was different now. This was morphing into something much more than a release of the bottled feelings he'd crammed into his gut for so damn long.

Slowly, the staff starts to lower, one hand sliding off to rest at his side as his own position becomes more relaxed, if it could even be called that. His eyes stung, his jaw was sore, he couldn't breathe.

And then it hits. Like a bullet to his heart. I love you.

Suddenly, he feels off balance again, that familiar panic rising in him again, just like it had before, so many times before. The hand still loosely attached to the training weapon dropped it, both hands coming up to clench and claw at his chest, gripping for air or a heartbeat that he couldn't feel. "You.... Y-you..." Stuttering, stumbling, he couldn't take the rising soreness in his joints much longer than that moment. With a weak whine, resonating somewhere in his throat that wasn't wrecked by his emotional toils, he nearly doubled over on himself, catching his falling weight on one knee, hands shooting out to grip the soft ground under him. He needed ground, something to hold him together because he felt like he was coming apart at the seams. Everything he'd tried to build, protect people by keeping them out, was crumbling in those seconds. He was fighting against a method he once thought was tried and true.

"You can't.... you can't say... He's going to hear." A crack in his voice, a full sob registering as he lets himself fall to the floor, elbows propping him up as the only means of support he has left. "If.... He knows... If He knows we.... Everyone I love... Always dies... I. Can't. Lose you." Broken, cracking, the words fall out of his mouth without a filter. Some part of his brain is telling him to shut the hell up, but the other half is pushing the clues forward. You love her, Tim Drake. You always have.

STEPH:

It was like watching a crack in a dam spider out and split open, water pouring out in a violent fashion. Steph was stunned for a beat until Tim crumbled to the ground, dropping the staff in an instant and on her knees beside the bird. "Stop, stop." She insisted, grabbing at his hands that were clawing at his chest. "I need you to breathe for me, Timmy. Okay, can you do that for me?" She asked, hand moving to his hair and brushing the sweaty locks away from his forehead. Her bottom lip trembled, feeling the tears trickling down her cheeks only increase tenfold in seeing Tim cracking and falling apart before her. It hurt, it always ached to see Tim hurting like this.

It hit Steph like a punch to the gut, all air leaving her within a moment's notice. Her lips were parted, blinking almost dumbly at his words. "Timmy..." she whispered softly, hands moving to cradle his face finally when she realized she needed to spur into action. "No, I'm not leaving you. You're not going to lose me. I will claw my way, kicking and screaming, back to you. Always. There is nothing that could keep me from you without a fight. Him included, if he even dares to get near us." Her thumbs brushed against Tim's cheeks, sweeping away the wetness there. Leaning down, Steph pressed her forehead against his, letting a shaky breath escape her.

"I love you, Timothy Drake. I have for a very, very long time. I swear I will always come back to you, one way or another. You are everything and more, my pretty bird." Steph was sure she looked a mess, tears staining her cheeks and sweaty ponytail a mess, but her face bloomed into a soft smile as her forehead leaned against Tim's.

TIM:

Tim couldn't believe how fast she got to him. She looked just as hurt seeing him, seeing him like this, as he felt. It resonated in a weird way that he only knew he never wanted to see her look like that again. Wide eyes, wet and glossy, stared into hers, hands shaking in what he could only assume was her own grip, trying to curl up on himself even though his overworked limbs complained to no end. Breathe. Remember... Remember the technique, relaxation. He wouldn't say it, not right now, but she somehow knew exactly how to take care of his attack, the inner turmoil coming and boiling over, one thing he feared she would never have to see... again. Yet, here she was, gentle after the royal ass-kicking she delivered to him just moments before, and she cared. She knew him, she knew him.

"You..." A breath, Tim wasn't sure how many words he could form with panic still having a death-grip on his windpipe. She was... so close. It was so tempting, but he was glued to the floor. Trapped, hands in hers, he wasn't going anywhere without thinking. Wasn't it the thinking that got him here in the first place??

Then she got closer, released his twitching fingers, held him steady. The spot where their foreheads connected felt hot, molten like they dared to fuse together, but comforting in a strange, sweaty sort of way. The thought even had him squinting his eyes as he thought, eyes locked still on their initial target. It really was always you, wasn't it?

Pretty Bird. Tim felt a new heat take over his face, something to make his pale cheeks light up like a Vegas strip. It was distracting enough that his hands stopped their feverish motion, coming up to mirror exactly what Stephanie was holding. Her face felt so small, and he could feel that same heat at the top of his head in his fingertips where the calloused edges gingerly touched.

"Steph I..." His breathing was still abnormal, but he could feel the heat in every labored breath. "I... Love you too."

STEPH:

A soft smile spread across Steph's lips, unable to help it due to the soft pink blush spreading over Tim's cheeks. Her own face felt hot, the gentle touch causing her eyes to briefly flutter shut. Her heart was racing, feeling like it was mere moments from just jumping out of her chest. Swallowing hard, she thought of how she had dreamed of this. Dreamed of the soft lingering touches, the lips being pressed to her own, careful hands holding her like she was something precious. It didn't hold a candle to the actual thing.

I love you too.

A wet laugh was out of Steph's mouth before she could stop it, fingers trembling slightly where they laid against Tim's cheeks. She swallowed hard, eyes fluttering back open and full of tears. It felt like she could fly with how her heart was soaring at those four simple words she had been aching to hear for years now. Her heavy, tired heart was repaired within seconds, stitched together by Tim's words and feeling lighter than it had in such a long time. Stephanie Brown loved Tim Drake and he loved her back. It felt like a dream.

Surging forward without a second guess, Steph's lips pressed to Tim's and her eyes slid shut. Every nerve was aflame, feeling fireworks exploding in her chest with how loved she felt and felt in return for Tim. This was nothing like she could have dreamed for, hoped for even. Slowly, she parted her lips and pulled back enough to keep her forehead against Tim's, eyes still shut.

"Leave it to us to have our first kiss in the damn Batcave of all places." Steph muttered after a beat, snorting slightly.

TIM:

This really felt like something they'd do in a romantic comedy. Coming soon to a theatre near you; two vigilantes meet, one gets a brick to the head, they fall in love, neither of them knows it until they're beating the shit out of each other in their secret HQ. It sounded dorky as all get out, but somehow that sort of thought relaxed him even more on his spot on the floor, it felt like a small return to form, his old form, his old mask. No no, this wasn't a mask, this was Timothy Drake. Finally, he felt a little bit like himself again, and wasn't that something special?

It didn't take long for the action he was pondering too much over to come from above, warmth invading his mouth, finally spreading through the rest of his muscles as he sat still for a second, taking in exactly what was happening. Stephanie Freakin' Brown was kissing him. Eat your fuckin' heart out, all others.

His grip on her tightened just slightly after that, reality slamming back as he felt himself push into it, returning the ever-gracious favor, a shared moment of silent confession that was wracking his body more so than his workout was. The thin wisps of angry, white heat he felt in his stomach faded and were replaced by... something else. He was still shaky, but this was a new kind of feeling. This one he wasn't going to keep shy, this was all for her.

When there was a moment for him to come up for air, Tim let out a genuine laugh. It wasn't loud, it wasn't the most confident, and he could still feel the trembling hold of panic in his voice, but it was a laugh all the same. Happiness. That's something he never thought he'd deduce in his head again. "Irony," He replied, chest still heaving from both the lip-contact that felt far too much like heaven and the multitude of other things that followed. He was starting to haze over those... maybe it was the exhaustion. "I... I basically... live down here, so..."

STEPH:

Steph was smiling, she was smiling so much it felt like her face was going to be aching by the time the night was over. Her fingers brushed gingerly over Tim's cheek and she laughed softly along with him, the happiness crashing into her like waves. It felt almost breathtaking, to see Tim's own happiness appear on his face. It sent a warmth through the blonde headed girl all the way down to her very toes. There was nothing quite like seeing Tim Drake happy. Nothing else could compare in her eyes, really.

"Yeah, not surprised at that." Steph teased, sitting back on her heels only to lean in and press a soft kiss to the scar that stretched across the other vigilante's skin there. Every part of Tim was beautiful to Steph, scars and all included in that. Her fingers moved to curl up in Tim's and she finally pushed up to her feet, pulling him along with her. Her other hand cupped his cheek and a smile spread across her face, thumb brushing against the skin there. Now that she had a silent permission to touch him like this, touch him intimately, it was like she was addicted and never getting enough of it.

"Come on. Let's go lay down. We'll blame the mess on Damian." Steph snorted and pulled Tim along gently to the stairs that lead up to the manor. She would force him to lay down, curl up in bed with him and think silently to herself how lucky she was, to be in love with Tim and have him love her in return. Another 'I love you' escaped her, the words practically forcing their way out on their journey. She wouldn't stop saying that for as long as she lived, Steph knew that much. For now, Steph would be happy to say it in between Tim's sheets and cuddles, and fall asleep with the warmth the knowledge brought her. Tim and Stephanie were in love and that meant everything and more.

#int: tim drake #int: discord #tim drake: 005 #discord: tim drake #violence tw #blood tw #for the gif!#cleverbxrd

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