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froggibus · 9 months

Note

Hi!

I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if I could request the Batboys with an s/o who passes out from a fever.

I hope you’re doing well!!

Passing Out From A Fever - Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake and Wally West x gn! reader (separately)

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: your s/o reacting to you passing out from a fever

Word Count: 1.2k (Dick's), 1k (Jason's), 1.1k (Tim's), 1.1k (Wally's)

CW: sickness/the flu, minor injuries, reader is stubborn and refuses to rest, fainting, established relationship? gn reader but Wally refers to you as a 'damsel in distress', violence + drugs/drug dealers (Jason's) lmk if i missed anything

okok so sorry anon this request is almost 4 months old lmfao. i got a little sidetracked doing other stuff for a while but it is finally here. hope you enjoy it despite how delayed it is

Dick

Dick looks at the numbers on the digital thermometer with a sigh. “Your temperature’s only going up.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You try to joke but your whole body aches, your skin is feverish and clammy, and your head spins every time you open your eyes.

He looks at you seriously, giving you the signature Dick Grayson disappointed older brother, team leader look.

“I take it no patrol tonight?”

He rests his hand on your thigh. “Not a chance in hell.”

“I figured as much,” you grumble.

“I’ll stay in with you tonight,” he insists, giving your leg a squeeze. “We can watch a movie or something. I’ll even let you choose.”

You let out a deep breath, leaning back and resting your head against your cold bed frame. His offer is tempting—it's not often he stays home during the evening. “Okay,” you nod your head slowly. “We’ll stay in tonight.”

He beams at your decision, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead before jumping up and leaving you in your bed. “I’ll be back in an hour, alright?”

You offer a weak thumbs up before relaxing back into your nest of blankets and pillows. It won’t hurt to sleep a little while he’s out, and you are pretty tired.

—

You wake up hours later, Dick nowhere to be seen. Your whole body feels like it’s been set on fire and beat with a baseball bat, but you still struggle out of bed to go find your boyfriend. Of course, he’s nowhere to be seen.

You narrow your eyes, a sinking feeling in your chest because you know exactly where he is. Your hunch is proved right when you open the closet door with shaky hands and see the empty hanger where the Nightwing costume should be.

What happened to staying in tonight? No patrol?

The thought of him leaving you while you feel this sick lights a fuse in your chest, and before you know it, you’re lazily tugging your own suit over your limbs. The suit only makes you feel hotter, your muscles aching in protest, but you need to see him.

By some miracle, you manage to stumble your way across Gotham in the dead of night while dealing with an extremely high fever and body aches.

Still, your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. You followed the trail of beaten thugs and failed robberies straight to the centre of the city, but Nightwing wasn’t there. You feel slightly woozy, your knees shaking below you.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket and you take it out, the writing blurry on the small glowing screen. You squint but the letters spin on the screen, and you can’t seem to make them out.

In fact, when you look up from the screen, the whole world is spinning. Your head feels impossibly heavy, and suddenly your body is pitching forwards.

————

Dick knows he’s fucked when he gets home and you’re nowhere to be seen. He sees the open closet door and the empty hanger where your costume should’ve been, and groans.

If only he had just stayed home like he said. Guilt overwhelms him, but he swallows it back and forces himself to push through.

You shouldn’t even be out of bed, let alone roaming the city dressed as a vigilante. Dick cards his fingers through his hair and starts to make his way through the city again.

He assumes you were trying to find him, so he circles back through his usual patrol spots. The longer it takes to find you, the more anxious and guilty he feels.

It’s all his fault that you’re even in this mess, stumbling through the city sick and disoriented.

He finds you unconscious on a rooftop, tucked away in a corner, a small cut on your face from what he assumes was the impact. Seeing you like this makes his heart drop and for what feels like a thousand years, he watches you and waits for your chest to rise. He stares, holding his own breath until he finally sees your lungs inflate with air.

He’s scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back to the apartment in an instant, careful not to jostle you too much. He can feel your feverish skin through your costume, sweat pooling on your forehead and neck. He could set a record for how fast he had you home.

He changes you out of your suit and into comfortable pjs, patching up the mark on your face and tucking you into bed. He’s always taken care of his younger brothers so he knows just how to take care of you.

He puts an ice pack on your forehead to keep you from burning up too much and gets water and ginger ale for your nightstand. He knows you’ll need fluids and medicine when you wake up and he wants to be prepared.

Even after he’s prepared everything and double checked his, his nerves don’t settle. You’ve been out cold for at least an hour, with no sign of waking up. Another hour of this and he’ll have to take you to the hospital.

He paces the room, eyes never leaving your sleeping figure. Wake up, wake up, wake up. He tries to will you awake, hoping your eyes will open any second and you’ll berate him for leaving you.

“Dick..?”

His pacing comes to a stop, eyes snapping to yours. “Oh, thank god,” he kneels next to your side of the bed and takes your hand in his. “How’re you feeling?”

As if on cue, you groan in pain. The ice pack he placed on your forehead does little to help with the heat that’s ignited your whole body. Your eyes feel painfully heavy, and all of your muscles feel inflamed.

He holds a glass of water up to your lips, helping you tip your head back so you can drink some. He pops a couple pills into your mouth and pours some more water in to wash them down.

“They’ll probably take fifteen minutes to work,” he keeps his voice quiet. “You’ll feel a lot better soon though, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re all better.”

You nod weakly. “You—you left me…”

Dick’s heart breaks at the sound of your sad, weak voice. He was hoping you wouldn’t dwell on that too much, the reminder that his fuck up for you into this mess weighing heavily on him.

“I know, baby. And I’m so, so sorry. There was an emergency and I thought I could sneak out quick but,” he sighs and tugs on his hair. “I’m not gonna leave your side until you’re all better, okay? Never again.”

You’re too tired and sick to care for grovelling, you’re just glad he’s here and you don’t have to suffer alone. You reach a hand out to grab his hand and weakly tug him towards the bed.

Dick obliges, crawling in next to you and letting you rest on his chest. “I’m gonna make you all better, hm? You’ll be all better soon, hun.”

His soothing voice coupled with the circles he traces on your back are enough to keep you content until the medicine kicks in. Then, you’re drifting back to sleep in Dick’s arms, already feeling better from the turmoil of the day

Jason

You think Jason may be the most dense man on the planet. Unlike his father, his detective skills seriously need some work.

When you woke up this morning with a fever and aches, you were sure you could push through it. It’s just a little cold, or so you thought. As the day turned into night and you got ready for patrol, your symptoms only worsened.

Your body aches grew worse, your fever grew hotter and your movements got sluggish. Still, you brushed it off. You never miss patrol with Jason, and tonight wasn’t going to be a first.

“You’re off to a slow start,” he teases.

You would roll your eyes if you weren’t so tired. “Shut up. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

It’s a total lie, of course. And if he could see the swelling of your glassy eyes or touch your boiling skin, he would know otherwise. Lucky for you, the adrenaline rush Jason gets on patrol creates a kind of tunnel vision that allows him to completely overlook your symptoms.

You stumble a bit, having to brace yourself against one of the shipping containers. You’re glad Jason shot out all of the street lamps at the old dock, leaving you in perpetual darkness. A perfect cover to hide the pain you’re feeling.

You take a deep breath and groan, pushing off of the container and running to catch up with him. The friction only makes you hotter, the air being forced from your lungs. Your head spins and black spots crowd your vision, but you take a weak breath and force them away. Now is not the time to be weak.

Jason tilts his head at you, and you can feel his judging eyes from under the mask. “Seriously, are you okay? Did you get hurt or something?”

“Did you? You’re off your game too, Red.” You try to nudge him teasingly but it just sends a shockwave through your body, your head suddenly pounding.

He looks like he’s going to say something you don’t want to hear but you’re saved by the bell when an unlucky drug dealer stumbles into view. Jason is pouncing on him in a minute, leaving you to your thoughts.

His form gets blurrier the more you watch him fight, and you swear your arms and legs are growing heavier by the second. Your head lulls back and you worry for a minute that you’re going to pass out.

You manage to catch yourself, pinching your arms to keep yourself aware. It works, but only for a second. You have enough time to make eye contact with Jason before your eyes are rolling back and you’re dropping like a sack of potatoes.

—

Jason is freaking the fuck out. For a minute, he’s worried you’re injured—or worse. All he saw was your panicked expression before you dropped to the pavement. If he wasn’t so worried, he would have laughed at your lack of grace.

He makes quick work of the remaining drug dealers, tearing through them with all the anxiety he’s feeling. By the time he’s made it to you, your body is practically on fire. He flinched away at first, not expecting your skin to be as hot as it is.

“You idiot,” he lifts you into his arms, letting your head hang over his shoulder. “You should’ve just told me you were sick.”

He forces himself to keep his calm demeanour the whole way to the apartment. He doesn’t let himself worry until you’re both changed out of your patrol clothes and into normal, ordinary pyjamas.

He has you laid down in the passenger seat of his car, his foot pressing heavily on the gas the entire way to the hospital. He knows it’s just a fever, but you fainted. Something could be seriously wrong, and he can’t chance anything. Not with you.

—

You come to in the hospital, an IV in your arm. It takes a few blinks for you to take in your surroundings, but even then, it’s hard to keep your eyes open. Your throbbing headache does not mesh well with the fluorescent lights.

“Jason,” your voice is barely a whisper. “Did you take me to the hospital?”

“No shit,” he scoffs. “

You would laugh at his brazenness if you weren’t in so much pain. The scratchy cotton thread of the hospital blankets aren’t enough to keep you warm, and despite being covered in sweat, you’re shivering.

Jason sighs. “You’re an idiot, you know that? You could’ve just told me you were sick.”

“I-I—,” you can barely speak with how bad you’re shivering.

Jason’s heart hurts at the sight of you, and despite how frustrated he is with your antics, he climbs into the bed with you and lets you lay against his chest.

You relax into him, trying to sap his body heat. You know this can’t exactly be comfortable for him, especially considering you’re a million degrees, and it makes you appreciate it even more.

“You know, I thought about just tossing you in the harbour and calling it a day.”

You let out a weak laugh at that. “I’m sure you did.”

“Okay, maybe not,” he admits, “but if you ever do that to me again, you will be taking an impromptu swim.”

“As you wish, Jay.”

He kisses the top of your head, “get some rest, hm?”

You nod weakly, letting your body sag against his. Just as sleep begins to take you, you mumble, “I love you.”

Jason’s heart flutters at your words. “I love you too.”

Tim

Tim is such a hypocrite.

When he pushes himself to his absolute limit, staying up until he quite literally drops, it’s fine. But god forbid you try to push yourself even the slightest, or there’s hell to pay from your boyfriend.

“Tim, I’m fine,” you insist, narrowing glassy eyes on him.

He raises his eyebrows in annoyance. “You’re not fine, y/n. You’re burning up. You’re so congested you sound like a little kid. You need rest.”

“Rest, schmest. I’m coming with you.”

“Y/n, honey, love of my life…if you try to come with me, I will slip you Nyquil and you will take a nap.”

You maintain your glare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe I already have,” he shrugs, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “How was the tea I brought you earlier?”

Your eyes shoot wide and you scramble to inspect the now empty Wayne Enterprises mug. There’s no indication that it looks or smells different from any other tea. You look up again, ready to mock laugh at your boyfriend, but he’s no longer there.

“Fucking Timothy,” you shake your head.

He’s been trying to force you to get bed rest all day, refusing to even let you come with him to the grocery store. Sure, you have a fever and you’re congested and your head really hurts, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay in bed.

You toss the blankets onto the other side of his bed and struggle your way out of it. The air outside of his bed is cold, forcing goosebumps onto your arms, but you don’t care. You tug on one of Tim’s sweatshirts and stumble your way downstairs.

He’s gone when you get down there, the only semblance of human life being Alfred sitting at the kitchen table. He’s reading a newspaper, seemingly deep in thought, yet the minute you step towards the front door, he speaks.

“If you are trying to follow Master Timothy, I would advise against that.”

“I-I wasn’t…how did you know?”

He smiles at you, “Master Timothy expected you would try to follow him, and asked that I make sure you rest.”

“Damn you, Tim.”

“I’ve prepared some water in the kettle and there are blankets on the couch if you’d like to watch a tv show with me?”

“That sounds great, thank you,” you sigh, giving up and trudging your way to the couch.

You settle in under a blanket, leaning your head against the couch cushion. Alfred comes in a few minutes later with two glasses of tea and a bottle of medicine.

You thank the man and take a few pills and the mug of tea, swallow down the pills and set the tea on the nightstand.

Alfred turns on the TV and starts to play one of his English soap operas. The sounds all blur together and you fade in and out of consciousness, every once and a while snapping back to reality when you hear the door unlock.

Of course, a million people seem to come and go from Wayne Mansion and your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. Alfred has seemed to doze off as well, his eyes closed and head resting on the couch cushion behind him.

You stand up from the couch on shaky legs, discarding the blankets next to you. You feel dizzy and lightheaded as soon as you stand up but you persevere.

You’re not really sure where you’re going, all you know is that you want to see Tim and the first step is getting to the front door. You make it to the front entrance, and you’re only five feet from the door, but your whole body hurts so bad and you’re so tired and everything is so hot and cold.

You brace yourself on the wall, leaning your whole body weight on it. You blink a few times, trying to keep the black spots from spreading to your vision. Everything overheats, and your muscles start to weaken. Before you can take another step, your body is failing, and your vision is going black.

—

Tim comes home just in time to see you hit the floor. He drops his groceries onto the floor, not even closing the door behind him as he runs to your side.

“Y/n?” He presses a cold hand to your forehead, “y/n, wake up!”

He gently shakes your shoulders, willing you to wake up and be okay. His family all arrive at once, staring at the two of you on the floor.

“Why couldn’t you just stay in bed? Dummy.”

He slips his hands under your knees and arms, lifting you off the ground. Your skin is hot to the touch but you’re shivering, sweat rolling down your temples. He carries you back to his room, laying you down in the bed and covering you in blankets.

He knows rationally that you’ll be okay, that your body was just responding to the exertion you put it through today. But emotionally? He’s freaking out. He can’t help but wish he’d stayed home with you, taken care of you himself, laid in bed with you all day.

Tim tries to distract himself by bringing up water and medicine and a cold cloth for you, but it does little to calm his nerves. Every minute that it takes you to wake up, he only gets more and more anxious.

Finally, after almost two hours, your eyes flutter open. Your head is pounding and it’s hard to keep from falling back asleep, but you force yourself to stay awake.

“Tim?” You call out, your voice even raspier than before.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” he murmurs, getting up from his desk and kneeling at your side. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” you admit, tears threatening to spill. “Really bad.”

He hands you two pills and a glass of water. “Here, take these, okay?”

You struggle to swallow the pills and water but somehow manage. The pain in your body is enough to bring you to tears and you can only hope that the medicine will kick in soon.

Tim rubs your forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re burning up…”

“I—will you lay with me? I miss you…”

Tim can only oblige. You just look so cute and so vulnerable with your glassy eyes and clammy skin. He wouldn’t dare say no to you right now.

He kicks off his jeans and t-shirt, trading them for a pair of sweatpants before settling in next to you. He can feel your body heat even though he’s not touching you, and even though he wants to hold you, he’s not sure if he should.

“Are you hot or cold?” He asks.

“Cold.”

That’s all the answer he needs before he tugs you into his chest, holding your body gently to his. He places a small kiss on your forehead and makes a silent vow not to leave your side until you feel better.

Wally

“Are you sure you should be going on this mission?” Wally looks at you seriously.

“Yes. Why are you even asking?”

He presses a hand to your skin, recoiling when he feels how hot you are. “Jesus, you’re hot.”

“Well, hello to you too.” You roll your eyes.

“Y/n, you don’t look too good. I don’t think you should be coming along,” he looks at you with genuine concern. “You’re running real hot and that’s coming from me.”

“Wally, if I don’t come along, the whole mission is screwed.”

“I know, I know. You’re so stubborn,” he sighs. “Come along but the minute you start to feel worse, you tell me, alright?”

“Alright.”

He flashes you his signature grin, planting a kiss to your nose. He squeezes your shoulders once, before giving you a half assed salute and taking off at the speed of light.

You smile after him, but your smile fades once he’s out of sight. Your head is spinning and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. With the way your muscles are aching, you’re not sure if you’ll even be able to finish the mission.

Still, you have to try.

————

Going on this mission was a mistake.

It feels like every floor of the sinister science institute is filled with more and more baddies, tougher ones too. You were beat after the first floor, but now that you’re on the fifth, with three more to go, you’re not even sure if you’ll make it.

You can hear Wally up ahead, zooming back and forth and taking out any baddies in his way. You know he’s partly doing this for you—trying to clear the floor and make things easier on you. He’d asked you one more time before you entered the facility if you were feeling up to it, and after you insisted you were, he didn’t bother to argue.

You almost wish he did, though. Your head is spinning, everything hurts and everything is so hot and sweaty. You try to force yourself to stay awake, but even you know your movements are slow and sluggish and you’re a danger to all of your teammates.

Nightwing is somewhere behind you, insisting there’s an air duct he can sneak through to get to the main lab before they evacuate. A part of you wishes you’d gone with him. At least then you wouldn’t be stuck leaning against a wall, desperately trying to get your bearings.

You force yourself onto your feet, stumbling down the hall after Wally. You only make it a few steps before your muscles turn to jello and the black spots crowd your version.

You go limp, your mind retreating far, far away.

Wally turns around just in time to see you go limp, and he’s speeding down the hallway and catching you within a fraction of a second. He doesn’t give you the chance to hit the ground, his arms already under your knees and shoulders, ready to carry you to safety.

Your skin is hot to the touch, hotter than it was earlier. He shakes his head at you. He knew this was gonna happen. He knew you would push yourself too hard and end up getting yourself hurt.

He gets you out of the building and into the jet you and some of the other Titans had taken to get there. He hates the thought of leaving you there, but he knows you would never forgive him if he abandoned the team now.

Still, he only gets more and more anxious the longer the mission takes. The second Dick secures the samples he was looking for, Wally is taking off. He’s got you in his arms, speeding back towards your shared apartment.

He’s got you home in a matter of seconds, changing you into a pair of his boxers and one of his old t-shirts. He tucks your boiling body into bed, covering you with blankets up to your waist.

He doesn’t really know how to take care of someone when they're sick. Whenever he was sick as a kid, he would always just eat ice cream and play video games. That, or he would sneak out and go hang out with Dick or Connor.

But he knows you need more than ice cream and video games right now.

He decides on grabbing you water and digging through your cabinets to find any medicine that could possibly help. He tries to remember what his mom did for him when he was young, and all he can think of is a cold cloth on his forehead. Still, that’s better than leaving you there to boil to death.

He lays the cloth gently on your forehead, leaving your water and medicine on the nightstand for when you wake up.

He changes out of his suit, opting for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Of course, you’re wearing his favorite t-shirt, but this one will have to do. He settles into the bed next to you, turning on the tv. He tries to keep the volume and the brightness low.

After what seems like forever, you start to stir. Everything is too bright and hot when you open your eyes, and it has you squirming and crying. Wally is grabbing your hand as soon as you wake up, using his other hand to press the cold cloth into your forehead.

“Shhh, babe, it’s okay.”

You clench your eyes shut and shake your head. “E-everything hurts so bad!”

He reaches across you for the water and the medicine, holding the glass up to your lips so you can take a sip before popping the pills into your mouth. You gladly swallow them, relaxing slightly at the taste of water. Wally sets the glass on the nightstand, resting his hands on your thighs.

“I’m sorry for pushing myself so hard…I’m sorry that you had to clean up after me.”

“Aw baby,” he grins at you, but it’s not as wide and carefree as it usually is. “You know how much I love rescuing damsels in distress.”

Classic Wally, trying to make you laugh even when you feel like you’re on your deathbed. He rubs your thighs gently up and down, trying to soothe you.

“Did the mission at least go okay?”

He kisses you gently, “don’t you worry your pretty little head about the mission, okay?”

He goes to pull away but you weakly wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him to you. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you tightly.

“It’s okay baby,” he whispers. “Everything is gonna be okay. I love you so much.”

#dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake #wally west #wally west x reader #wally west x you #batfam x you #batboys #jason todd hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

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suzukiblu · 1 month

Text

Five headcanons for Plot Bunny: based on “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”.

Kon lived with his Jonathan and Martha Kent for about two or three years before letting his personal issues about potentially BEING an issue convince him to run off and get his own place. He was "nineteen”, he figured; that was already a year longer than he should’ve stayed on the farm anyway, even helping out with the chores and whatever. Normal people all leave home at eighteen, right? And it wasn’t ever really HIS home, anyway. ( no, Kon. no they do not. AND EVEN IF THEY DID, YOU’RE ONLY ARGUABLY “NINETEEN” ANYWAY. )

Kon and Tim have been officially/publicly dating for maybe six months, give or take, and “Conner Kent” is not exactly popular in Gotham because a) not from money and b) not from GOTHAM, and also c) what is he even doing with his life, anyway?? Kon isn’t exactly embarrassed about this, but IS slightly self-conscious about it. He’s still not good at trying to make himself seem smaller and more “normal” than he actually is, and not particularly comfortable trying to pass for a normal civilian. He swings between over-correcting and not correcting enough, and it makes him come off as kind of inconstant and weird to people not in the know.

Aid worker Rita is kinda into this whole “meeting hot young alternate of Bruce Wayne” thing, this thing is kinda novel. Like, she knows it’s a crisis situation but she really appreciates him being a chill and supportive dude and being very helpful, actually! All the aid workers were pretty appreciate of "Baby Bruce’s" helpfulness, in fact, and mildly surprised in a couple of cases.

Jon is from a reality where Earth-3 hasn’t happened to him, and is therefore still chronologically in step with his home reality and family. He’s still fairly new to Superboy-ing, but he’s at least met and worked with Damian and gotten slightly-antagonistically attached to him. Idk, “Annoyances To Friends” trope?? He actually doesn’t have a ton of friends in general, he gets along with a lot of people but self-isolates from getting too close to anyone. Is that because he sees his dad behaving certain ways and taking too much on himself and his mom insisting on not needing help and taking too much on HERself and just assumes that’s what he has to be like too? Who knows! ( me. I know. )

Kon actually has very complicated feelings about his version of Jon, and he’s currently desperately attempting to repress them because it is NOT the time. Like, at all. It is NOT. He needs to take care of this kid and do right by him and not be WEIRD about anything like how his Jon got everything he ever wanted while he was out of the reality, while everyone had FORGOTTEN him, and–that’s fine! That’s something he’s totally normal about, and always has been and always will be, and it DOES NOT MATTER! Like at all! Especially not anything he wanted from . . . CLARK, instead of just . . . Superman. Or . . . anything like that. BUT IT’S ALL FINE AND OKAY AND HE DOESN’T NEED TO THINK ABOUT IT EVER AGAIN, THANKS.

#timkon #kon el #conner kent #jon kent #superboy #superfamily #meta ecetera #plot bunny #wip: mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees

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mamawasatesttube · 5 months

Note

number 81 for the writing prompts: "It's cold, you should take my jacket."

(mostly cause I wanna see Tim wear Kon's leather jacket and Neither of them being normal about it but do what you want with it it's your fic <3)

“Here.”

Tim looks up as Kon waltzes back into the living room, two enticingly-steaming mugs in his hands. Hot spiced apple cider sounds absolutely divine right now—the blustery Kansas day outside is reaching its icy fingers into the farmhouse despite the fire blazing merrily in the hearth, and Tim has to admit, he maybe should’ve packed warmer for this trip.

Kon presses one of the mugs into his hands—the nicer one, Tim notes, without the chip in the rim—and Tim accepts it with a grateful hum. The warmth seeps into his palms immediately. “Thanks.”

“No problemo, Rob-lemo.” Kon plops down next to him on the couch, his TTK keeping his cider perfectly still in his mug as he makes himself comfortable. “It’s pretty chilly out today. Gonna be a good night to go skating—the pond down by the McAllister’s place is frozen over, and this time of year, they string up lights ‘n’ invite all the neighbors to come by in the evenings. Wanna go?”

Tim hums in consideration. “Could be fun, but just warning you, it’s been a hot minute since I did any skating, so I’m kinda rusty. And I didn’t bring any skates.” Mmm, the steam rising up from his cider smells amazing. “Did you make this?”

Kon’s eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. Then he puffs out his cheeks in mock offense, folding his arms across his chest. “You don’t have to sound so surprised! I’m good in the kitchen.”

Yeah, Bart keeps calling him malewife material about it. Tim grins into his mug; it’s not his fault it’s so easy to ruffle Kon’s feathers, or that it’s so funny to do so. “I guess it is Ma’s recipe, so it’d be hard to make it bad.”

Kon politely waits for him to lower the mug from his mouth and then swats him on the back of the head. Tim does appreciate the pause, even as he ducks away, laughing. The cider tastes like apples and cinnamon and honey; warmth spreads through Tim’s chest.

“You’re rude,” Kon tells him. “Just for that, if you fall on your face when we go skating, I’m not helping you up. I’m just gonna laugh.”

“Oh, it’s a when we go skating now?” Tim quirks an eyebrow at him in turn. “I just said I didn’t bring any skates.”

“We can get you some, that’s no trouble,” Kon says, flapping a dismissive hand. Tim opens his mouth to ask where, exactly, in Smallville, can they get a pair of new ice skates in a matter of a couple of hours, but then closes it again when it hits him that even if there isn’t a big sporting goods shop in Smallville, geography isn’t really a concern to someone who can crisscross the entire globe in a matter of minutes.

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Tim lightly elbows him. “Don’t tell me you’re actually good at skating. I bet you just TTK your way through it.”

Kon elbows him back. “Yeah, right! I’m pretty decent, no powers required, actually. Been going plenty with Jon. He particularly loves this one roller dome in Metropolis that always has Super merch in the arcade claw games.”

Okay, Tim has to admit, he’s melting a little about that. Kon loves his little brother. The image of him taking Jon skating is really cute—he can just picture Jon wobbling along, holding Kon’s hand, and rambling about his day like he loves to do. He bites back a truly sappy smile; his toes curl instead, where they’re tucked under a cushion to stay warm.

“Lemme guess. The claw games are where you TTK it up.”

Kon snickers. “They’re rigged as hell, but the kid wants his misshapen Superman plushies, so obviously I gotta win ‘em for him.”

“Obviously,” Tim agrees. He curls his fingers around his mug a little tighter, soaking up its warmth; he’s got an actual winter coat for when they go out, but he really wishes he’d brought some thicker sweaters or hoodies for hanging around in the house itself. He’s used to the damp, creeping cold of Gotham; the blustery Kansas winters might be about the same temperature, but the wind out here blows right through him.

Kon shifts next to him, setting his cider down on a coaster on the coffee table. Tim glances up just in time to see him unzip and shrug out of his hoodie—it’s fleece-lined and light pink with a strawberry cow printed on the front breast pocket, very cute.

And then Kon leans over and wraps it around Tim’s shoulders. Tim’s face heats.

“It’s cold,” Kon explains. “Take my jacket. I don’t really need it that bad, anyway, so you may as well get some use out of it.”

It’s still warm from his body, and Tim lifts one hand from his mug to pull it more tightly around himself like a blanket. His nose brushes the collar when he turns his head a little. The jacket smells like Kon’s cologne.

…It’s the citrus-and-spice one Tim bought him last Christmas. He’s wearing the cologne Tim picked out for him last year, the one Tim definitely didn’t spend almost an hour agonizing over as he imagined tucking his face into Kon’s shoulder and inhaling this specific scent from his collarbone. He’s…

Tim’s face gets even hotter. Abruptly, he takes a gulp of hot cider, hiding in his mug. Kon’s jacket smells like him, and it’s warm, and it’s big and cozy and soft, and…

Kon is staring at him, Tim realizes belatedly. He didn’t notice because he was busy, uh, processing, but Kon’s looking at him like he’s…

Like he’s the last morsel of dessert on the table, and Kon has a ravenous craving for some sugar?

Tim swallows hard. Deliberately counts to eight on his next inhale and exhale. If he lets his heart rate pick up, Kon will definitely notice.

“Thanks,” he manages, finally. “That’s, uh. Yeah. That’s nice.”

“I’ll say,” Kon mutters. He drops his gaze, his cheeks a little pink, and then reaches over to ruffle Tim’s hair. “Bring warmer lounge clothes next time, dumbass. The farmhouse is kinda old. Gets drafty in here.”

“Yeah,” Tim says wryly. He shifts his weight, rearranging his legs so that instead of leaning on the armrest, he flops himself against Kon’s side, dropping his head to his shoulder for a moment. “I noticed.”

Kon leans his cheek against Tim’s hair. “At least you got me to keep you warm,” he sighs, slipping his arm around Tim’s shoulders. “What would you do without me, huh?”

Tim bites back the first response on the tip of his tongue (“Go into a huge depressive spiral?”) and goes for something a little less insane. “Freeze to death before you even get to laugh about me falling on my face at the McAllisters’ pond?”

Kon snorts. He’s comfortably warm against Tim’s side, and Tim snuggles a little closer, relishing his warmth. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” Kon agrees. “I hope I can get it on video.”

Tim just smiles to himself and raises his mug for another sip of cider. The honey and spices are heavenly on his tongue, but if he’s being entirely honest, he can think of something sweeter.

#answers #barbitchian #this ended up being less about the jacket than i intended but i AM thinking abt other reasons tim might end up wearing kon's jackets.#i just also think kon in a cute pastel pink strawberry cow hoodie is cute :)#timkon #rimi writes #its such an awkward length skdjhsdjk like this feels too short to bother putting on ao3 but so long for a tumblr ficlet. man #maybe i will expand timkon wintertime fluff (inspired vaguely by hallmark vibes) later into a real fic. idk!#tim #kon

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batfambyval · 7 months

Text

So, the following analysis/explanation of Tim Drake’s childhood is in direct contradiction of widely accepted fanon and some of my other posts. It’s a more serious and canon complaint back story that I feel the need to put out there, just for variety.

Now, I don’t think Tim’s Bat-stalkingTM started in the lead up to A Lonely Place of Dying, he knew what he was doing, the process seemed fairly streamlined and that would have taken a lot of practice and trial and error. However. He wasn’t going out every night or anything like that, and the majority of his “research” was from newspapers and such because he couldn’t regularly stalk them in person. Why? Because he was at BOARDING SCHOOL!

Look, the Drakes were neglectful, but they weren’t callous or uncaring. They just didn’t make their child their first priority like they should’ve. They didn’t think about him enough. Once he was old enough to send to boarding school that’s what they did, probably letting the nanny go and forgetting that holidays and vacations exist. They didn’t just leave him to fend for himself, and they probably expected him to stay at school for breaks other than summer vacation which even they probably remembered and maybe even came home for. Tim was just a little shit who lied about having someone at home so he could leave campus.

Now this isn’t to say that the neglect wasn’t damaging to Tim, because it was. But it wasn’t like he was fending for himself in terms of food. He didn’t have a support system, didn’t have a stable parental figure he could rely on and probably felt very isolated. He was emotionally independent from a young age out of necessity. He relied on himself to fix problems in his life, he didn’t have an adult fixing things for him. Bullies? No choice but to deal with it himself, even if that means going to the teachers without parental support. Homework trouble? On his own. Friendship issues? Figure it out yourself. Even lacking things like simple comfort when you’re overwhelmed can be damaging for a child. Tim ended up with a confidence in his own abilities that borders on arrogance but also horrible self-worth issues and a detached and analytical view of emotions in both himself and others.

Point is, before Tim became Robin he was at boarding school and did have adult supervision and meals provided to him, even if he didn’t get much or any personal attention. Tim wasn’t running around on Gotham’s rooftops every night or even every week. And his parents weren’t quite as awful as fanon makes them out to be.

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tryingtofindava · 4 months

Note

Hi- this is May be a bit of a little darker/rougher request but-

Can you make a hurt comfort fic for Tim from marble hornets? Maybe he gets a knock on his door late at night, he opens up and its his s/o (they/them) coming over because theyve been having a rough moment with their mental health (mostly involving suicidal thoughts,though they never act on it or hurt themself) and feeling very alone and needing the attention and care of their boyfriend, If I recall correctly hes got run Ins with this kinda stuff before (as he was at risk of suicidal tendencies cannonically), so ig it wouldnt be surprising to him to deal w it.

If thats a little too out of your depth (which is fine!/gen) just write Tim comforting a lonely reader.

I looved your cuddle hcs. Thanks in advance! You write for all of them so well! (And accurately! Which is rare in the fandom since theres a lot of bleed thru from the fanon iterations of tim/brian).

Have a nice day!

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧 || 𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐱 𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫*ೃ༄

tw: suicidal thoughts, angsty lil fic with a ton of comfort.

a/n: this is a teeny bit short

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

The heavy rain was pelting against the windshield of your car, as you parked it along the gravelly ground next to your boyfriends house.

You step out the car, the rain and your tears mixing together, the weather had already soaked you to the bone. You trudged forward to the cabin. (Which Tim had been staying at currently.)

Knocking on the door lightly, but hard enough to be heard over the rain. A few seconds later, you watched as Tim opened the door cautiously.

You saw the relief on his face when he realised it was just you, but that quickly turned to concern when he saw your tears flowing freely down your cheeks.

He opens the door wider, and it doesn’t take long before you practically pounce on him. Arms wrapping around his neck tightly. Like if you were to let go he’d vanish.

He slowly wraps his arms around your wet, cold, and shaking form. His brows furrowed as he stroked your back comfortingly.

He pulls you inside, so you don’t get even more soaked then you already were. He looks at you with a questioning look gracing his features.

“I-“

Your voice cracks and breaks as you try and get out the words, you never thought it would be this difficult to speak up about your feelings. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You then start slowly explain how you’ve been feeling for the past few months.

How your mental health had been dwindling.

The scary thoughts you’d been getting.

He stared at you, feeling incredibly guilty, he’d been through this before… He should’ve noticed the changes in your behaviour. He should have noticed the signs.

He pulls your shaking form into another hug.

“Don’t you ever forget I’m right here.”

He whispers in your ear, placing a hand against your face, wiping your tears away.

“And I always will be.”

As long as he’s there, he’ll make sure nothing bad happens. Safe to say he won’t be leaving your side for a good long while.

✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•

#Marble Hornets #marble hornets x reader #masky marble hornets #marble hornets masky #marble hornets one shot #masky x reader #marble hornets tim #tim wright #tim wright x reader #tim/masky #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta reader #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta tim

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mossfrg · 11 months

Text

Lost Talon au 3/?

Imagine Jason’s reaction to Dick being brought back. Like, Jason was the Robin right after Dick died— he had the biggest shoes to fill, coming immediately after the original. He was constantly trying to live up to the standards Dick unknowingly set. After he nearly died by the Joker’s hand and made his own identity, Jason felt more comfortable with himself and out to bed his worries.

But then Dick comes back, and he comes back wrong.

Jason had always privately hoped that one day this older brother would appear and take the reigns for him. The he would get to meet The Dick Grayson, have that man as an older brother.

Instead, Jason is still the oldest, and now has to deal with a half-brainwashed (non-consensually!!) genetically modified 18-year-old almost assassin who’s 12ish years out of place. What the fuck. He did not sign up for this.

Tim feels much the same way. He’s older than Dick, and that’s not something that should’ve ever happened. Tim remembers seeing Dick at galas, remembers his warm tanned skin and bright blue eyes when he’d smile. Remembers being taught how to do a flip and a cartwheel by a boy who claimed to fly from chandeliers. Remembers a kind older boy sneaking him into the gardens when things got too loud and he was so young and couldn’t handle the way his parents looked at him but this older boy was giving him the time of day-

And now that boy is younger than him. Blue eyes replaced by cold, unflinching gold. Skin still tan, but paler with a gray tint to it; black veins crawl up his throat and down his arms. He’s cold to the touch. He’s still kind, but much more hesitant in showing that softness; more likely to flash his claws than return a gentle hug. And that’s not to mention the wings, over 20ft of feathers and muscle tucked between his shoulders (he still perches on chandeliers though).

Damian had never met the First Son his Father had taken in. He’s heard countless stories of the brave, kind, caring, innocent child who creates the Robin mantle. Who didn’t kill, who made jokes, who was kind and sweet and friendly. Damian, unlike the other two, didn’t worry about living up to Grayson, but to living up to the innocent he brought. How could Damian ever be a good Robin when his hands were stained with blood?

But then Grayson, Richard, had been found. And he had blood on his hands. Less so than Damian himself, of course, and less than even Todd or Drake. But still. It was blood. And he’d gone under much the same training Damian himself had. The First Robin, trained and bloodied like Damian. Who took one look at Damian wearing his family’s name and colors and beamed for the first time since they’d brought him home, wings extending to wrap around him as he cooed, who’d heard that Todd and Drake had also shared the mantle and dragged them into the hug too, proclaiming them family and his flock, “or colony if you really want to stick with the bat theme, B, but I think it’s telling that 4/4 of your sidekicks went with a bird theme, maybe you should think of being Birdman-“

Richard Grayson, who despite everything, still managed to be himself after 12 years. Damian thinks it gives him a little hope and privately, thinks that if Richard can be so good after what he’s been through, there’s a chance Damian can be good too. Not that he’s ever say that aloud; he’s the Blood Son after all, even if Richard was the First Son.

#batfam #lost talon au #richard grayson #talon dick grayson #jason peter todd #tim drake #damian wayne #damian al ghul #batbros #reverse robins #their dynamic is neat okay #LT!dick has no clue what anyone thinks of him and assumes they all hate him #Meanwhile LT!jason is trying to figure out how to parent him #LT!tim doesnt know if dick remembers him or not and they are both too socially awkward to bring it up #LT!dami fuckin loves this funky birb assassin man who can’t preen his wings but will pull a knife if you threaten zitka #TL!bruce jsut sobbing in a corner while Alfred comforts him cause ALL HIS SONS

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roses-r-rosie3 · 9 months

Text

Thinking ‘Bout You [Part 3]

Jason Todd x M!Reader

[Thinking ‘Bout You Masterlist]

Warnings: Torture, angst, swearing

Summary: Jason goes to the location given to him, just to find it empty and there’s a cassette tape and mini tv

Quote: "Yes it is! He's gone because he was walking to MY place, he's gone because of ME!"

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

Jason parked in an alleyway near the building that his family gave him to find you. As he walked to the building it looks deserted, no one was there. Did his family really give him the wrong location? No. They couldn’t have. They weren’t this cruel. Jason had no choice but to open the doors.

As he went inside, he realized his family didn’t give him the wrong location, because he recognized the room where you were tortured in. But something was off. As he walked further into the room, he saw a old tv and a cassette tape.

Jason cautiously looked around before putting the cassette into the tv and waited for it to load. And he was met with joker on the Tv. The first thing Jason noticed was you, tied up, hanging on some type of pillar. You were blindfolded, and you had even more scars and bruises on your body.

“Why hello there little bird” Joker laughed.

“Jason! Is that you?” You cried out.

“Look at him! He’s desperate for you to come save him! Where are you birdie?�� Joker smiled into the camera.

Jason could only look at the screen angrily as Joker teased him through the screen.

“I was expecting more from you hood! You should’ve known I wouldn’t stick to my word!” Joked laughed out as he had a gun pointed to you.

“No!” Jason yelled out.

“But! Your little boyfriend has more bones for me to break! And wouldn’t that be a waste!” Joker said as he skipped around you.

“P-please stop, I don’t want to die” you sobbed.

“And you won’t. But you’re gonna wish you did” Joker laughed as he started to rub the gun on your scars, making you cry out in pain.

Joker started to walk towards the screen smiling like a maniac.

“I’m going to relocate him to a more… safe… place, I can’t have anyone taking away my punching bag from me now can I?!” Joker laughed.

“I’ll see you later hood!” Joker smiled before the footage cut.

Jason didn’t know what to do. He failed you, you depended on him to save you, but he was too late. Out of a fit of rage, Jason started to throw stuff around the abandoned warehouse. It was a mix of sorrow and anger.

After Jason was done, he left the warehouse and rode home in silence. When he arrived, his family immediately ran to him and started to ask about you. He ignored them and went to straight to his room. Jason wouldn’t forgive himself for this, he failed. A few minutes later, he heard a knock on his door.

He was expecting someone like Dick or Tim to walk through the door, but it was Bruce. Bruce sat next to him on his bed and they sat there in silence until Jason started to burst into tears.

“I-I failed him, he’s gone, it’s my fault” Jason cried.

“It’s not your fault Jason” Bruce said as he tried his best to comfort Jason.

"Yes it is! He's gone because he was walking to MY place, he's gone because of ME!" Jason hollered.

"I know how you feel Jason, out of anyone in this family, I understand more than anyone what you're going through, but that doesn't mean you should blame yourself for what happened" Bruce said.

"I-I just don't know what to do without him, I need to find him" Jason sobbed.

“All we can do is hope that joker will send another hint to where y/n is now” Bruce sighed.

#male x male #mlm #malexmale #male reader #mxm #gay #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x male reader #red hood x reader #red hood x male reader #red hood x y/n #red hood #red hood x you #angst #rosesrrosie3

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quin-ns · 1 year

Text

Taking Care (Saul Goodman x Reader)

Word count: 2K

Summary: after jesse beats up saul you help fix him up

Tags: brba ep. 5x11, canon violence, canon behavior, blood mention, hurt/comfort kinda, hurt!saul, saul being a bit sleazy but it’s goofy it’s fine, fluff, flirting, humor/comedy, very light hearted despite the episode, kissing, happy end :)

A/N: finished breaking bad and couldn’t get this episode out of my brain. im a saul simp now and even tho he lowkey deserved it i didn’t like seeing him get beat up. my self indulgent fix it- idk how big the fandom for saul fics is so I’ll just have to see lol

Cross-posted to ao3 • brbabcs masterlist • writing masterlist

As you headed into Saul’s office from the waiting room, you heard a commotion. Saul was screaming at someone. The door had been kicked in. You’d seen some pretty crazy things happen here, but you were in no way expecting to find Jesse being the cause of the chaos.

“Jesse! Stop!” you shouted, gaining the young man’s attention. He was standing over Saul—who was on the ground, hands raised in defense—with a gun pointed on the man.

Jesse stared at you in surprise, obviously not anticipating your arrival. His jaw tightened and he looked guilty. You were one of the only people left whose opinion of him actually mattered to Jesse. The two of you were friends; you could only hope he’d listen to you.

“Oh Y/N, thank god,” Saul said in relief when he spotted you in the room. “Call the police!”

You weren’t sure if he was serious or not—Saul never wanted police at his office—but it must’ve been bad if he was even willing to mention calling help.

“No need,” Jesse decided. He dug into Saul’s pocket and grabbed something out. Sounded like keys. “We’re done here,” he told you calmly. Huell, Saul’s massive bodyguard, tried to block the door. “Back up!” Jesse yelled, pointing the gun at him. You weren’t in the line of fire and you really hoped Jesse wouldn’t shoot you, but you stumbled back further away from him. Huell moved too and let Jesse out the door.

Huell ran over to Saul and tried to help him up. “Get off me! What do I pay you for?” Saul yelled at Huell and grabbed his phone. He frantically called someone and said, “hey, it’s me. We got a big problem.”

Huell ran off out the door and you turned to go after Jesse too. As much as he was deranged in the moment, you tried to convince yourself maybe you could help, but Saul interrupted your contemplation after making his call that you didn’t pay attention too.

“Leave him,” Saul coughed out. “He has a gun and is clearly not afraid to wave it around.” You looked back at him and became aware of the damage Jesse had done.

“Oh, you idiot,” you muttered, approaching Saul where he had slumped back to the ground. It was only the two of you in the office now. “What did you do?”

He let out a dramatic scoff. “Me?” Saul asked, offended, as you crouched down next to him. “I get assaulted and I’m somehow at fault?”

You took his bloody face in your hands and inspected the injuries. “Jesse wouldn’t beat you up for no reason.”

A guilty look crossed his face as your hands fell. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he grumbled reluctantly, sitting up straight. You weren’t sure if he ever would. “Can you help me out first, maybe?” Saul gestured to his face.

“Yeah,” you replied curtly, standing. You kept a first aid kit in your car. You were in a similar line of business to Mike and through him you met Saul (and Jesse, Walter, and Gus). Although, the only ones you became friends with were Jesse and Saul.

Your friendship with Saul was a little more… well, more complex. You had a good rapport with him and often bantered back and forth, flirting and what not.

You stopped by his office more than you probably should’ve and he was always pleased to see you appear. That’s how you thought today would go when you came by to visit. You had a couple minutes to spare so you figured you’d swing by for a few. He joked more than once that you could take up all his time in a day and he wouldn’t charge you a dime.

You went out and grabbed the kit from under your seat as quickly as you could. It was something you kept on hand given your past experiences in your occupation. And right now, it was about to come in handy.

Saul was standing when you walked in, looking around the room at the mess. His expression was defeated, which was only amplified by the cuts, bruises, and most of all the bloody nose.

“God, he did a number on you,” you commented, unable to hold back. You actually felt bad for him even though you weren’t sure whose fault it was—it looked like it hurt.

“I’m aware,” he replied, disgruntled, and dropped down into his chair.

You rounded the desk to his side with the kit and set it on the surface of it. You began to unpack the kit and set aside the things you needed. Saul watched you—your back was to him but you could feel his eyes on you.

The first thing you did was check his nose to make sure it wasn’t broken. Good news, it wasn’t. Just really, really bloody. And there was a cut on the bridge. You grabbed a packet of wipes and started to get to work.

You focused on wiping the blood away, but you noticed Saul’s eyes scanning your face. He was watching you almost transfixed. He had been quiet for a few seconds, which was longer than usual for him.

“If I knew I could get you this close I would’ve gotten my ass kicked sooner,” he finally spoke up in that sleazy manor you were so used to.

You scoffed out a laugh. “At least you’re not trying to say you won that.”

Blood was still dripping from his nose, layering onto what was already present, so you took care of that first. You cleaned it from his face which he groaned and whined about, but you wouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Don’t be such a baby,” you muttered.

You finished up with that and his nose finally stopped leaking fresh blood. It was a start, right? You threw bloody wipes away in a little desk side trash can and moved on.

You leaned in a little, glancing over the injuries. You dabbed at the cut on the bridge of his nose with one of those tiny square alcohol wipes.

Saul winced but recovered quickly.

“Are you gonna kiss it and make it better?” he teased while you rolled your eyes and reached for a band aid. “If so I think I might have a scratch on my lip.” You raised your brows with a look that said a sarcastic ‘really?’ “What? I—I thought it was a legitimate healing method.” The lie rolled so easily off his tongue you might’ve believed he believed it. Part of being a lawyer you assumed.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I did,” you said offhandedly (baiting him), unwrapping the bandaid and placing it on the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Saul sounded incredibly offended. “I so would,” he argued.

Before he could get another word in, you grasped his face in each of your hands and leaned down to capture his lips. Saul, as expected, was stunned. You pulled back with a light laugh while he stared at you dumbfounded.

“See?” you said with sass and a smile. “Now can I finish?”

Saul nodded, speechless for the first time in… well, as long as you’d known him.

Now that his nose was taken care of, which is where the brunt of the damage was, you could focus on the more minor things. Like the eye that was probably going to be a tad swollen and the cut on his forehead.

“You’re taking such good care of me,” he mused. “I’m starting to think you like me.”

“Maybe I do,” you replied smoothly, not missing a beat as you worked.

“I want a do-over,” Saul announced, referring to the kiss where you’d very effectively proved your point.

You ignored him, except for biting back a small smile to yourself. “I can’t do anything about the eye and the cut on your forehead is so small it probably doesn’t need a bandaid. Unless you want one.”

“It’s fine,” Saul dismissed.

“Alright then,” you stepped back to look over him one more time. “You’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” he told you, but was already distracted by prodding at the bandaid.

“I only had a few minutes so I gotta head out now,” you told him as you packed up the first aid kit.

You closed it and grabbed it, then headed for the doorway. Saul realized you were leaving and furrowed his brows, trying to find something to say. You only made it about halfway before—

“Wait! A date!” Saul scrambled to stand, but recovered and tried to act casual. “A date. We should go on one,” he suggested. “Like, for real.”

There it was. Something you’d been waiting for for a while. You knew he had a thing for you beyond just provocative comments and flirting, it was obvious, but he never actually asked you out. So you didn’t plan on taking him up on any of his offers until he was serious. It took a while, but that moment finally came.

If you were mean, you would’ve said the punch knocked some sense into him.

“Sure,” you replied after a beat.

“Really?” He sounded surprised. “I mean, really?” he repeated, much more collected. “That’s great. Okay. So uh, how about dinner this Friday?”

“You sure you don’t have… other stuff going on?” you asked vaguely, but he knew exactly what you were referring to.

Saul flashed you that charming grin of his. “For you? I have all the time in the world.”

You couldn’t help but smile and let out a laugh at that. Sure he could be coquettish but you genuinely did enjoy his presence. Besides, it suited him. You couldn’t imagine Saul being a perfect, boring gentleman. The flirting was like a game with him and you liked to play just as much as he did.

“Do me a favor, though—”

“Anything,” he responded a little too quickly.

“—try and keep that handsome face intact, alright? No more bloody noses,” you requested with a sarcastic tone (though you did mean it). “If you and I go out I don’t want people thinking I beat you.”

Saul chuckled at your joke. “I’d let you,” he said lasciviously. Despite the wicked glint you were pretty sure he was joking. Although with Saul you could never be too sure.

You scoffed, but with a sense of humor. “I don’t think that’s the compliment you think it is.”

“Whatever,” he said with a shrug. Saul strolled towards you, going overboard with how leisurely he tried to be. You laughed to yourself when he stopped in front of you. The sound made him crack a smile of his own.

“Can I get my do-over?” Saul implored.

“Hmm,” you hummed. “No,” you said unseriously. You laughed at your own joke and Saul sensed your tone.

“You sure?” Saul placed a hand on your waist and decreased the distance. His other hand rose to your cheek. You looked into those soft blue eyes of his.

“Maybe not,” you sighed out as he was already closing the gap between your lips.

Saul initiated and you gladly reciprocated. This kiss, unlike before, was expected. And not to prove a point. You weren’t sure what you thought kissing him would be like, but it was nice. Good. He had you practically swooning by the time the two of you separated.

“I gotta go, but um,” you said softly, eyes lingering on his lips. “I’ll see you Friday?” You flicked your eyes up to meet his.

“How about seven? I’ll pick you up,” Saul offered with a lopsided smile.

You clicked your tongue. “But your car is so tacky,” you teased.

“Hey! My car is awesome,” he defended. “You’ll look great in the passenger side.” Saul patted your hip (nearly your ass) and shot you a wink.

“You better make this date worth my while.” You poked him in the chest, all teasing and accusing like, and stepped back. You turned on your heal and headed out of the office.

"I wouldn't dream of anything less!" Saul called after you. You could hear the smile on his face and for the rest of the day, nothing could get rid of the one on yours.

#quin-ns writing #saul goodman #saul goodman x reader #saul goodman x you #jimmy mcgill #jimmy mcgill x reader #jimmy mcgill x you #breaking bad #better call saul #breaking bad fanfiction #breaking bad fic #bob odenkirk #breaking bad 5x11

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damianbugs · 1 year

Note

do you have any good tim fic recs? without him being massively woobified or fanonised

tim centric fics are not something i usually read (though that IS changing recently) BUT i do indeed have some recs that to me, personally, really encapsulate his character and i think about like all the time. a good tim drake fic can truly change the chemicals in your brain FOREVER.

woobified tim and i have personal beef with each other that will withstand all the generations to come, so i will not be touching him with a ten foot pole. do not fear.

TIM DRAKE CENTRIC FIC RECS ON AO3

Talk To Me by A_Canceled_Stamp

Bruce and Tim have a long-overdue heart-to-heart

MY NOTES: ohhh just the bruce and tim fic ever to exit. i reread this often when i just need a little comfort after things are rough, because it is so well written and i will never get over how sweet it is. happy tears in my eyes forever. bruce and tim is a dynamic that is so special.

lift this curse of bein' seventeen by arguablysomaya

When Tim first dreamed of becoming Robin, he’d been admiring Dick. When he became Red Robin, hurt and alone, he’d thought about the person Jason used to be. But after years of watching his older sister, Tim can’t help but reflect on how much he respects Cass and what she stands for.

As Batgirl, as Orphan, as Black Bat— as Cass, the woman that could face down pure evil and still sneak into Tim’s apartment to pull the laptop out of his hands and shove him into bed.

Or: In which Tim Drake gets a new name.

MY NOTES: oh my GOD. THE TIM DRAKE MOVES ON FROM ROBIN FIC EVER. i never once considered black bat tim but after reading this i genuinely have ascended to a new plain of tim drake understanding. not to mention wonderful tim and cass writing. i love their duo so much. (also!!! asian tim!!!)

by any other name would smell as sweet by misspickman

A dare and a couple of offhand comments set off a domino effect, sending Tim down one or two identity crises. Apparently everyone thinks it's time for him to do some self-reflection.

MY NOTES: i have said this so many times in these recs that it should be a given now to always expect a trans character fic as well. trans girl tim fic u are SO REAL. a friend recommended this to me and i read it all while standing up for a good half an hour unable to do anything else. changed my life forever. good lord

a soft place to land by unchosenone

Tim rubs the back of his head, trying to affect a joking tone. “I knew I should’ve just gone for the new escrima sticks.”

Dick is ready to be a good big brother to his grieving little bro. Tim flips the script.

MY NOTES: dick and tim are truly the brothers of all time i tear up just thinking about what they once had and everything they've lost. this fic is not about that though. this fic is about what a caring little brother tim is.

Check your mic by Lilac_hyacinth

“That wasn’t—” he stared at his bike’s display through fuzzy eyes. “I mean, Bernard’s not my—”

“It’s okay, Tim,” Steph said gently.

The comm felt like a knife in his ear.

“I’m not,” Tim said.

He didn’t know if he was saying "I’m not gay" or "I’m not okay," was pretty sure nobody else did either, and the next thing Tim knew, his comm was a crushed pile of plastic and tech in his clenched fist.

MY NOTES: first and foremost, if you are a fan of timber you NEED to check out this author. the best timber fics out there. this fic is especially special to me and i love the way the comfort was handled. seeing tim traverse through different parts of the queer experience will always be important to me.

#gee i wonder who this anon is from!#tim drake #batfam #saki batfam fic recs #bruce wayne #dick grayson #bernard dowd #timbern

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thatthirdtriplet · 2 months

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Relationships:

Tim Drake & Damian Wayne Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne Tim Drake & Dick Grayson Tim Drake & Sandra Woosan Tim Drake & Jason Todd Tim Drake & Ra's al Ghul Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne

Characters:

Tim Drake Damian Wayne Bruce Wayne Dick Grayson Sandra Woosan Ra's al Ghul Jason Todd Talia al Ghul Alfred Pennyworth

Additional Tags:

Tim Drake-centric POV Tim Drake Damian Wayne-centric Tim Drake is Not Okay Tim Drake Needs a Hug the League of Assassins (DCU) Tim Drake and Damian Wayne are Siblings implied/Referenced Child Abuse Child Neglect Tim Drake is Robin Damian Wayne Needs a Hug like fr fr Damian Wayne is Not Okay Canon-Typical Violence Misunderstandings Kid Damian Wayne AngstHurt/Comfort Humor

Summary:

Maybe Tim should have stayed in Paris like he had promised Bruce.

Maybe he shouldn’t have followed Shiva when he knew that she could snap his neck in a heartbeat.

Maybe he should’ve hightailed it out of Nanda Parbat by the time he realized he was in the demon’s den, and its claws were sinking in.

Once a small boy in an empty bedroom shoved a knife to his throat, looking equal parts righteous and frightened, though, there was no chance Tim was running away. Not when he had too much to prove - and everything to protect.

#tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #ras al ghul #talia al ghul #sandra woosan #lady shiva #the loneliness in worth

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tinkerbelle05 · 1 year

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Angsty Batfam Headcanons

Bruce wears his mother’s dresses as a form of comfort. His mind playing tricks on him thinking that they still smell like her, even though they have been washed and pressed multiple times since her passing.

When Dick had nightmares of his parents’ fall, Bruce would sing Romani lullabies to give him some comfort and they worked like half of the time. Sometimes it just reminded him too much of his mother and that made the cries louder.

During Jason’s first few weeks at the manor he had a bag of clothes, food, and money in case he’d do something that’ll get him kicked out or if Bruce wasn’t as kind as he seemed. Now that he has returned, he still feels that. That one day he’ll push Bruce’s buttons too much or say something cruel during one of their arguments, and instead of welcoming him back with open arms and a smile, he’d slam the door on him. Bruce is a kind and compassionate person who loves too much, but he is human, and they all have a breaking point.

Duke definitely sees Bruce as a father figure and he loves Bruce, but he just can’t fit his mouth to say the words “Dad” to him and he feels like the odd one out where everyone can call him dad effortlessly. That’s not true (Dick and Tim) but his late-night thoughts have him convinced it’s true.

Sometimes Alfred wondered if he hadn't done enough to help Bruce. He knows about the shortcomings he had when Bruce was growing up–that he was more a stoic guardian than a loving father–but maybe he should’ve pushed therapy more or hugged him more. Or just done more.

It’s still weird having an attentive parent for Tim. He loved his parents, but their jobs kept them away from him for long periods of time so he learned how to manage without. But then there’s Bruce who calls once a week to talk for hours, who asks him questions about live and it’s odd. A part of him likes the attention but it drains him regardless and he hates that. He hates that he finally got what he had wanted for years and it makes his skin crawl. He knows that eventually, Bruce would stop attempting to reach out, and he dreads the day it happens.

When Damian’s out either as Damian Wayne or Robin, he sees families—a mother, a father, and a child—and he loathes them. He loves his family for all of the flaws and messed up things that happened between them. But sometimes, a small part of him wishes and dreams that his parents were together. He knows that it’ll never happen and it’s probably for the best that it doesn’t but Grayson said that it’s okay to have hopes that will never come to fruition, good for the soul or something like that. So he hopes.

There are times when Cass thinks she is more of a weapon than a person. She has taken many steps to combat this idealization but the thought lingers around her. It lingers in the amount of people she killed, the way she can read people’s body movements subconsciously, and the people compliment her when they see how effortlessly dancing comes to her. She has all the tools, so what if one day, she just snaps?

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falcqns · 7 months

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give me back my girlhood (it was mine first)

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Tim Bradford x Lucy Chen

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Tim thinks Lucy has fully healed from Caleb. He is quickly proven wrong when they start dating.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Tim Bradford would burn the entire world just to see Lucy Chen smile, trauma, ptsd, takes place around season 5, canon divergence, hints to autistic!Lucy (meltdowns, going nonverbal, stimming, etc), Lucy had seizures after Caleb, Tamara is Chenfords kid, can you tell I have a soft spot for Tamara, Title is from Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve by Taylor Swift, tagging @natashasera

don’t forget to read and reblog, and i do not give permission for my works to be posted anywhere other than tumblr. thank you.

Tim thought that the transition from just friends to in a relationship would be easy for him and Lucy, but he was quickly proven wrong. He also thought that Lucy had healed from what Caleb and Rosalind had done to her, but once again, he was proven wrong. She may have healed enough to continue day to day life in her normal manner, but when it came to their relationship, almost everything triggered her, and it broke Tim’s heart.

The first time Tim had noticed that Lucy was being triggered was when they went on their first date. Lucy had ordered a drink, an old fashioned to be exact. She had taken a sip of it when it arrived at their table, and Tim saw how a line appeared between her two eyebrows.

“Everything okay, Luce?” He asked quietly, prepared to flag down the waitress and have her remake the drink if it wasn’t up to Lucy’s standards. Lucy nodded slightly, but pushed the cup away. As she did so, Tim saw her hand shaking.

“I-It tastes funny.” She whispered so quietly that Tim barely heard her. Tim moved closer to her in the booth.

“It tastes funny?” He asked, and she nodded, tears beginning to form.

“It doesn’t taste normal.” She said, her breathing picking up speed. Tim grasped her chin, guiding her eyes to his, and his stomach dropped when he saw the fear in them, realizing what was going on. Her drink tasted different to her, and it brought back memories to when she was drugged. Tim’s heart broke as she whimpered, tears beginning to spill over and roll down her cheeks, her breath speeding up.

“Luce, baby,” He whispered. “You’re safe. I know that what you’re feeling feels really real right now, but it’s not. You’re here with me, Tim, and you’re safe.” He said, still holding her face. “Can you nod if you can hear my voice, Goosey?” He said, and Lucy immediately nodded. “Good girl,” he praised, and smiled slightly when he saw her breathing slow slightly.

“Can you tell me something that you can see?” He asked, and her eyes darted around briefly, before settling on Tim.

“Y-You,” She stuttered, and Tim smiled.

“You can see me?” He inquired, and she nodded. “Good girl.”

He continued to quiz her on her surroundings until she was back in the present, and had calmed down. She was still upset, but Tim knew it was more out of embarrassment than anything. She had wrapped both her arms around his left one, and was resting her head on his shoulder, looking down at her lap.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Lucy didn’t respond with words, instead she grunted slightly, and snuggled into his shoulder even more. “Baby,” he whispered, and eased his arm out of her grip, and wrapped it around her shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

Lucy, once again, didn’t respond, and buried her face in his chest. “Okay, okay,” He soothed, helping her get comfortable. “Do you want to eat, or do you want to go home?” He asked and Lucy shakily pointed to her plate, and Tim pulled it over, handing her her fork. Lucy then sat up, and slowly began eating her food. Tim went back to his own food once he was sure she was okay, but he kept his hand on her lower back.

—

Tim had also noticed that Lucy seemed to fear arguments and disagreements with him. It was something he had taken note of when she first came back to work after Caleb. She was quiet, only talking when he spoke to her, and then if they got in as much as the slightest disagreement, she would shut it down and just agree with him, no matter how he knew she felt about the topic. He thought that she was just taking time to readjust to their relationship being strictly Rookie-TO at work, but he realized as soon as they started dating that she had developed a fear of men, and a fear of upsetting them.

Tim had asked her what she wanted for dinner, and she had said she didn’t care, and that he could pick. Normally, Tim would be okay with that, but since asking her out, he had been making all the decisions in the relationship, in things that didn’t involve work. He had insisted that she choose, and she refused, and they went back and forth until Lucy completely shut down and stopped talking, which made Tim angry.

And he knows it shouldn’t have made him angry, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted her to be able to eat what she wanted around him, and he didn’t want her to feel like he was controlling her or the relationship in anyway. He knew that she needed to feel in control, and he wanted her to be able to feel that.

“Lucy, just tell me what you want to eat, and I will go and get it!” He said, exasperated, and Lucy shook her head aggressively, and turned away from him. “No,” he said, reaching out for her. “C’mon, talk to me, I just wanna help-“ he stopped talking when he saw her flinch away from him. He then watched through the reflection of the tv the fear that had appeared on her face.

She then whimpered, and then shot up, running to her bedroom, sobs falling from her lips as she went. Tim immediately followed her, instantly feeling shitty about the way he had talked to her. He felt even shittier when he walked into her bedroom and saw her hiding behind the chair in the corner of her room by the window, the soft grey blanket that he bought her her first night in the hospital after Caleb giving away her position, the material peaking out from behind the legs.

“Goosey,” Tim whispered, crouching down close to the chair, but also keeping his distance so that she didn’t feel trapped. “I’m sorry,” he started. “I shouldn’t have spoken like that. I didn’t mean to scare you. If you don’t feel like you can choose what to eat right now, that’s okay. I can choose for us.”

He paused, and waited to hear if Lucy would respond at all. After a moment, he heard her voice say something, but he couldn’t make out what she said.

“Can you repeat that, Luce? I didn’t hear you.” He said, and Lucy’s voice could be heard again, this time louder.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry I made you mad.” She continued, and Tim sighed, moving slightly closer.

“Goosey, you didn’t make me mad at all. I just want you to be able to feel in control of your body and your choices, thats why I wanted to know what you wanted to eat. I shouldn’t have pressured you like I did, and I should have listened to your body language.”

“‘m sorry, please don’ hurt me,” she sobbed. “Didn’t mean it, I’ll be good,”

Tim wiped away the tear that ran down his face after he realized that Lucy was having a flashback.��

“I want you to listen to me, Lucy.” He said calmly. “You’re here with me, in your bedroom, in your apartment in Los Angeles. Caleb is dead, and you’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore, I promise.” He soothed, and after a few more moments of silence, he heard a sniffle, followed by a small “okay,” and then some shuffling.

Lucy crawled out from behind the arm chair and looked up at Tim, slightly hiding her face behind her blanket. Tim gently held out his arms, letting her know she can come to him for comfort if thats what she needed. She slowly inched her way over to him, and fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her, and hugged her as tight to her body as he knew she liked, and stood up slowly, lifting her in the process.

He let her cry out her emotions as he slowly rocked her back and forth, hoping the motion would help her to regulate her emotions. She eventually calmed down, and she snuggled into his shoulder, sniffling slightly. He rubbed her back as he walked out into the living room, whispering in her ear as he did.

“Do you want me to choose what we eat? Would that make it easier on you?” He asked, and he nodded, taking a mental note of what to do next time she struggles like that. She needed to feel in control, but sometimes she needed him to make decisions for her, and he was okay with that.

—

The thing that triggered Lucy that hurt him the most was the sound of a tattoo gun. Before Caleb, Lucy loved tattoos, and loved getting tattoos. She had often talked to not only him, but to their fellow officers, about tattoo’s that she wanted and was planning on getting. Tim had known that she had been tattoo’d by Caleb, he saw it when he was in the ambulance with her, and they had moved her shirt in order to do an ECG after she had her third consecutive seizure. His heart had clenched seeing the black ink on her rib cage, and in that moment he had hoped that she was asleep when the tattoo had been done.

But of course, God must hate him, so she had been awake. Something he had no clue about until Tamara had asked them both to accompany her to her first ever tattoo appointment, where she was also getting a date, the date that the three of them had stood in front of the judge finalizing Lucy and Tim adopting Tamara.

Lucy said yes immediately, without even thinking. Tim knew why, of course. Tamara had been let down by everyone in her life, and Lucy was determined to never let her down. Tim didn’t think anything of it, and was even thinking of getting his own tattoo, with both Lucy and Tamara’s birthdays.

Everything was fine until Tamara was lying on the table, her arm out for the tattoo artist, prepped and ready for the ink. The tattoo gun began to buzz, and Lucy tensed up beside him.

“Are you okay?” Tim said under his breath to Lucy, resting his hand on her knee, his other hand holding Tamara’s free one.

“Mhm,” She said, eyes locked on the tattoo gun where it was permanently marking up her daughters skin. “Jus’ need to go to the bathroom,” She said, a little louder, and made brief eye contact with Tamara, clearly trying to tell the girl that everything was fine. Tamara nodded, her brows furrowing for a moment, but then relaxing after Lucy left the room.

Tim waited a few minutes, before following her. “I’m just gonna go check on Mom, okay?” He said to Tamara. “I won’t be gone long.” She nodded, and Tim left the room.

He looked towards the lobby, and could see Lucy outside, so he immediately joined her, where he found her near tears, looking up into the sky to preserve her makeup.

“Luce-“ He started to say, but Lucy cut him off.

“I’m fine.” She said, her voice short.

Tim shook his head. “No, you’re not.” He said, and grabbed her hand. “You’re not, and that’s okay.”

Lucy shook her head, and ripped her hand out of Tim’s grip. “No, its not, Tim!” She said, running her hands through her curls. “Because this is just another thing Caleb has taken from me.” She ranted. “I can’t even sit with my daughter while she gets her first tattoo, I-I can’t get any of the tattoo’s that I wanted to get, I can’t even listen to the buzzing noise of the gun because that’s what I woke up to after he took me-“

“Oh, Goosey,” Tim said sadly, immediately wrapping her up in his arms. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were awake when he did that to you. Had I known that, we could have explained to Tamara why you couldn’t go, or we could have brought your headphones-“

“I don’t need them!” Lucy yelled, pulling out of Tim’s arms, and crouching down, covering her ears wit her hands, her eyes squeezing shut. Tim sighed, and sat next to her, being mindful to not touch her until she asked or initiated contact.

“Yes, you do, Goosey, and thats okay.” He said. “I’m not going to judge you for it, Tamara certainly isn’t going to judge you for it, and any person with more than half a braincell wouldn’t judge you for it. I suggested it because when you do wear them out of the house, you are able to cope better, and that’s all I wanted. And as for him taking the ability to get tattoo’s from you, he didn’t. If you really want to get another tattoo, I’m sure we can find a trauma informed tattoo artist that is willing to work with you on this.” He explained, as he wrapped an arm around her after she removed her hands from her ears, and rested her head on his shoulder. “But it’s entirely up to you, okay?”

Lucy nodded, and sniffed. Tim kissed her on the head, and helped her stand up. She took a deep breath, and looked towards the tattoo shop door. “We should go back in,” she said, and Tim looked at her.

“Are you sure you want to?” He asked. “You don’t have to, I can go back in and you can wait in the truck if it’s going to be too hard for you.”

Lucy shook her head. “No, I-I think I was just a little unprepared, and that’s why it triggered me. I’m prepared to hear the noise, so I’ll be okay.” She said. “Tamara wanted both of us with her and I’m not going to let her down.” She finished, as she led him back inside, and into the room, where the artist was bandaging up Tamara’s tattoo.

“Can I see it, bubba,” Lucy asked, walking up to Tamara’s side immediately. Tamara holds her arm out, while looking up worriedly at Lucy.

“Are you okay, Mom?” She asked, and Lucy nodded, running a hand through Tamara’s hair.

“Yeah, baby, I’m okay.” She said, assuring the teen. “I don’t want you to worry, okay?”

Tamara blinked, her lower lip wobbling slightly. “I’m always going to worry about you,” she whispered. “You’re my mom, and I know I don’t know everything that you went through but I know enough to know that you got triggered. I didn’t even think about that before asking, I’m sorry,” she said, a tear falling from her eye.

“T,” Tim whispered, moving to her head and pressing a kiss to her head as he sat next to her on the table. “It’s okay. I don’t think any of us really thought about it.” He assured her, and Lucy nodded, sitting on the table as well.

“Yeah. It did trigger me, but I removed myself from the situation, worked through what I was feeling, and then prepared myself to come back. It’s okay, I promise.” She said, cupping Tamara’s cheek, and rubbing her thumb back and forth.

“Okay,” Tamara said, and as soon as Lucy seemed to be sure that Tamara was okay, she turned back and looked at the tattoo. “I love it, baby,” She said.

“Me, too.” Tim said, smiling down at his daughter.

“Now,” Lucy said, smiling up at Tim. “Your dad just needs to get one, and we’ll be all inked up.”

Tim shook his head but laughed along with his girls.

—

Lucy wasn’t fully healed from Caleb, but Tim was going to do everything in his power to make sure that one day, she would be. Caleb had taken a lot from her, but Tim was going to make sure that she was able to reclaim what he had taken, no matter the cost.

#natashasera #chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #the rookie #the rookie fanfiction #chenford fanfiction #tim bradford x lucy chen #tim bradford x lucy chen fanfiction #chenford fluff #chenford angst #tamara colins #eric winter #melissa o'neil

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