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mortiferumsomnum · 2 years

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A Blanket Full of Stars

EDIT: MASTERLIST

Jason was 6 years old when Danny was born, and he remembered that Danny looked like a wrinkly monkey wrapped in Jason’s softest blanket that he could find in his closet. The blanket had all these stars and planets, and tiny little rocket ships that look like they’re about to crash into the moon.

Jason giggled, because his baby brother looked like a monkey in space.

Jason loves him.

That day of his birth, when Jason held the little baby in his arms, he promised to be the best big brother ever. He’ll make sure that no one bullies his brother for looking like a tiny monkey, and beat up anyone that even tries to beat up his brother. He’ll read all the books the old ladies from the diner gave him, and turn on the radio when Danny wants to listen to music because Jason sure as hell can’t sing.

But his mom said they couldn’t keep him. They couldn’t afford to keep him.

Jason was heartbroken.

So, some social workers went looking for a family to take Danny in.

The day the new family came to pick up Danny, Jason held Danny the whole morning, not letting go of his baby brother who was sleeping so peacefully.

Danny had also gotten attached to Jason. He’d stop crying when Jason holds him, rocks him, carries him. He’d make little ‘num-num’ sounds when Jason feeds him. And when Jason talks to him, he’d reply with a ‘bwah!’ and an ‘awuwuwu!!’

Danny can’t lift anything yet, but he’d hold on to Jason’s finger. Danny can’t roll over yet, but he’d lay his chubby cheek on Jason’s shoulder. Danny can’t talk yet, but Jason just knows when Danny calls for him.

So, when the new family comes into the house with the social worker, Jason couldn’t hold back the tears. No, he couldn’t let go of Danny.

Danny was still a month old! What if he gets sick in the car ride! What if the parents forget Danny because he’s so small? Danny might not look like a monkey anymore, but what if the parents leave him alone anyways? How can he trust these people to take care of Danny?

Oh, they have a daughter??

It doesn’t matter!! She is a 2 years old girl that’s crying when she saw Jason crying. She can’t take care of Danny! She can’t feed Danny, or bathe him!! Her tiny arms can’t carry him either!

Danny can’t go with them!

But his mom was crying with him. “I’m sorry,” she said, hugging him when the two parents took Danny. Jason’s head was hugged close to her chest, but Jason had a clear view of his baby brother. His baby brother that was making distressed sounds while being held by unfamiliar people. “I’m sorry, but Danny won’t be able to live a good life here, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jason hated this. Jason could take care of Danny, he promises! He can! He won’t even let his good-for-nothing dad touch him like the month Danny was with them!

But, when the baby girl, Jazz, was lifted by the giant man, Danny stopped making such sad sounds. Then, Jason watched as Jazz lifted her hand. And he was ready to run in and stop her from slapping his brother, but he stopped. He stopped because she patted Danny’s cheek so gently.

And Danny... Danny cooed the same way he would at Jason. Danny held the little toddler’s finger and babbled loudly, like he would when he’s being held by Jason.

Jason hated it. He hated the little baby girl. Danny was going to a better family, going to be taken care by a girl he’ll call his sister. And Jason will be forgotten! Danny won’t ever remember Jason anymore!

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair!

Jason ran to his and Danny’s room. Well, his room now. All of Danny’s things had been packed.

Then, Jason saw the blanket. The blanket that made Danny look like a little monkey in space. It’s the softest blanket Jason has. And Jason doubts that the new family would have a blanket full of stars like his does.

“Jason! They’re about to leave!”

He picks up the blanket, folds it, and runs downstairs. Danny was all buckled up in the car seat the new family purchased just for him. He was sucking on a binky that the new family bought too.

The new family saw the blanket Jason was holding.

“It’s... It’s for Danny,” he told them.

His mom pursed his lips. “It’s not washed,” she said.

But Jazz made grabby hands towards the blanket. “Ish Danny’sh!!” she said, still reaching for it.

The woman, who was going to Danny’s new mother, smiled kindly and took the blanket. She unfolded the blanket, and laid it over Danny, who cooed loudly the moment he held the softest blanket Jason owned.

It wasn’t a spaceship, but Jason felt like Danny was being flown to a whole other planet. It sucked, and it hurt, and Jason was going to miss his monkey baby brother.

He looked into Danny’s car seat and patted Danny’s tummy. Danny held his finger and latched on to it. “Awu!”

Jason sniffed. “I’ll miss you, Danny,” he said. Then, he brought Danny’s tiny hand up to his lips and kissed it. “I’m going to miss you so, so much.”

Jason felt his mom’s hand on his back. “It’s time for them to go, Jason,” she said softly.

Jason huffed. Then, he looked towards Jazz, and gave her a firm look. “Take care of him, okay?” he said, to which Jazz blinked. “Even when adults think they’re taking care of their kids, take care of Danny, okay? He’s small, and he looks like a monkey.”

Jazz looked to Danny, as if to confirm he’s a monkey. She pouted at him. “No mo’key!”

Jason huffed, grinning. “Good, now I know you’ll take care of him...”

He stepped out of the car and stood beside his mom. When the adults were done talking, the new parents stepped into their car. And then, the car started.

His mom was waving. She was crying, but she was waving.

“Say goodbye, Jason,” she said.

He couldn’t do such a thing. He couldn’t lift his hand. And he couldn’t bring himself to talk.

Finally, the car started moving.

Jason couldn’t help it. The car was already a block away, but... but...

He ran. He ran after the car ignoring his mother’s yell for him.

“DANNY!!!” he cried, gasping and sobbing. He wanted his brother back. He wanted him BACK.

“DANNY!!!!!!”

The car turned. There was a traffic light that turned green. There was a truck.

“JASON!!!” he heard his mom cry.

But Jason... Jason was flying.

He looked up to see Robin holding him, gently landing in front of his mom, who ran up to Jason and hugged him tightly. “Oh, my baby...” she cried.

Jason... he... Jason cried, hugging his mom just as tight.

He couldn’t hear his mom thanking Robin, nor hear Robin ask if everything was okay. He didn’t feel his body being lifted and carried into their horrible apartment that smelled like beer. He didn’t feel himself being laid onto his bed. Jason scooted on instinct, but there was no tiny body that was going to be laid with him.

Instead, his mom told him to scoot near the wall, where Danny would have been. Jason would be the body that blocks Danny from falling.

His chin trembled, but he scooted near the wall anyways. And his mom laid beside him, petting his hair and hugging him close to her.

“I miss him,” said Jason.

“I know, baby,” she said, kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry...”

Jason shook his head. “He’ll be safe with them?” he asked.

“Yes,” his mom said. “Safer and will grow up healthier. He’ll be loved and cared for. He’ll have a normal life, one that’s better than Gotham.”

Jason chose to believe her. He had to.

*******

Okay, so, I cried while writing this whole thing. And, I just--- Oh my godddd....

So, headcanons and notes for this AU!!

- As you’ve read, it’s a Jason and Danny as Bio-Brothers!! Jason is 6 years old uwu, and Danny was just born! Danny stayed with them for a whole month while the social worker was looking for potential families to adopt Danny. They came across the Fentons, who were more than willing to take in a child that came from one of the poorest of families in Gotham. They drove all the way to pick Danny up themselves.

- It takes Jason 3 whole months to get over Danny. He noticed his mom and his dad fighting more and more every day, until one day his mom was... weird. IT was the start of his mom’s drug addiction. This is also when Jason finds out that she’s not his actual mom, but she still loves him. She loves him so much, but she was also tired.

- Cue major events, like Catherine Todd dying over overdose, Jason meeting Batman, Jason in the middle of Dick and Bruce’s argument. What’s different here is that Jason ends up being a little bit closer to Dick, because Dick remembers saving Jason when he was smol. Dick visits the manor more often, only to spend time with Jason and nothing more (maybe for Alfred’s cookies too). Jason dies, Superboy-prime alters reality and Jason gets revived, Talia finds him, dumps him into the Lazarus Pits, blah blah blah, the rest is history.

- In Danny’s corner, who is now 15 years old, for a show-and-tell, Mr. Lancer prompts the students to bring something from their baby days that isn’t a binky or a baby bottle, and to tell the class about it in the most creative way they could.

- Danny tells Jazz about it, and Jazz remembers about the box in her closet full of Danny’s things of when he was a baby that she didn’t want her parents destroying. She brings it out and shows it to Danny, and he finds the blanket.

- “Heh. Looks like even when I was a baby, I was into space.”

- Jazz had a strained smile on her face. “Yeah. Mom and Dad said that it took you 3 whole years to let go of that blanket,” she said. But her smile was still strained.

- Danny furrows his brow at her and asks, “What? What’s wrong?”

- Jazz sits Danny down. Her parents were going to tell him... someday... when they weren’t busy with their ‘job’. So, Jazz decides to just do it now.

- Danny finds out that he was adopted. Jazz tells him that her earliest memory was this older kid giving Danny the blanket, and calling Danny a monkey. “You held his finger and he kissed your hand, saying he’ll miss you. I think he was your older brother.”

- “I don’t understand,” said Danny. “Didn’t they want me?”

- Jazz nodded. “I asked Mom and Dad about it... your real family... they weren’t doing well. They were struggling financially. They said that the social worker suspected your real dad abusing your mom... I don’t know about your brother...”

- Jazz hugged Danny, who was crying. “They loved you so much, Danny,” she whispered. “So, so much.”

- Danny washed the blanket. After a wash, the blanket ended up becoming the softest thing in Danny’s room. He slept with the blanket, feeling a bit closer with his brother. Definitely his brother. It just felt right. And Danny knew than to ignore his intuition that was getting a bit too accurate now that he was half-ghost.

- Danny then asked Tucker to search about his family. “Todd, that was their last name,” he said. “My mom’s name was Catherine Todd, and my brother’s was Jason... My dad’s was... Will? William? Willis? Wilred? I don’t remember...”

- Tucker searched. And... “Dude... you’re... not going to like this.”

- “What? What’s wrong?” he asked.

- Tucker sucked in a breath. “I just want you to prepare yourself, okay? It’s not good news.”

- Danny frowned. “Just say it, Tuck.”

- Tuck gulps, but nods. Then, he shows Danny what he searched. Catherine Todd had died from overdose, Willis Todd was a crook that was murdered by Two-face. And Jason... his brother... he was adopted into a wealthy family! The Waynes! He managed to get into a prestigious school! And Danny wondered why Jason didn’t go find him? Did Jason ever think of coming to get him now that he was in a better place? And Danny, maybe he wouldn’t be going to Jason, but it would have been nice to reconnect somehow? Maybe not... They had their own lives.

- But then, Danny reaches the final paragraphs of the research results that Tucker put together.

- “He... He died?” he asked, reading and rereading what happened. An accident. An accident killed his brother.

- But, despite Tucker confirming it, it... didn’t feel right. And Danny’s intuition was getting better and better, more accurate. So, if it didn’t feel right that his brother died, then his brother probably isn’t dead. Did he fake his death? No... that didn’t feel right. He totally died. Then...

- Was he brought back to life?

- Bingo, his intuition said.

- “Dude? Hey, dude, are you okay?” Tucker was patting his back, talking softly and trying to ground Danny back from his panic attack.

- Danny made a decision. He was going to fly towards Gotham. He needed to find his brother. Check on him. Check on how he’s doing.

- After reassuring Tucker, he made plans. Then, during the weekend, Danny talked to Valerie to take over for him, along with Sam and Tucker, and he flew all the way to Gotham to look for his brother.

- He felt Death everywhere he flew. But he felt the calling of a malformed ghost-core. Jason? His intuition sang. So, Danny flew closer and closer, until he reached an apartment along a street that seemed abandoned, if it weren’t for the various gangster-looking people roaming along it.

- Danny transformed back into his human form, no longer feeling the strong pull, but a weaker version of it.

- ‘JASON!!’ his mind seemed to scream. He was about to see his brother. He was about to MEET his brother!! ‘JASON!!!!!’

- He was about to cross the street when... the light was turned green... and there was a truck and...

- Danny was flying. He wasn’t transformed, but Danny was flying in the air, held firmly by some teen in a hero get-up and a domino mask.

- Danny was plopped gently on the side-walk he was aiming to get to.

- “Phew,” said the teen. And, wow, he’s only slightly taller than Danny. He’s probably the same age as him... or older. He looked Danny up and down before asking, “So, you doing okay?”

- Danny nods. “I’m good,” he said. Wow, he’s got a nice voice. And a nice body. Are those abs real? Or are those just kevlar linings??

- “Where are you trying to go?” the teen asked, snapping Danny out of his close to sinful thoughts.

- “I’m looking for my brother,” said Danny, clutching onto the blanket tighter, thankful that the teen saved him or else it could have gotten ruined. Sure, he’s been hit by buses before, but not while he was in human form!! “He lives on this street.”

- The way the teen’s brows rose higher made the hero look a little cute--- FOCUS DANNY! He’s not here for cute boys in hero get-ups!! Oh shoot. Oh man. Oh no...

- “What’s your brother’s name?” the teen asked. And, Thank You!! Yes! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT DANNY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DOING!

- “You just look like someone who lives on this street,” the teen said, smiling a bit crookedly. OHHHHHHH WHY ARE YOU SMILING LIKE THAT?! THAT’S ILLEGAL! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A HERO, NOT A THIEF OF HEARTS!!!!

- Calm yourself, Danny. Let’s find out whether we are talking about the same person. Danny blinked. “What’s that person’s name?”

- “Peter Todd,” the teen said.

- Feeling a bit dejected, Danny shook his head. “That’s not the person I’m looking for,” he said. “I’m looking for Jason Todd.”

- “Jason Todd is... dead,” he said, a bit hesitantly.

- “No, he’s not,” Danny said, a bit firmly.

- The teen took him by the shoulders, and brought Danny’s face closer to his. He could feel the teen’s breath. It smelled like coffee and breath mints. “Legally, he is,” the teen said.

- That... that got Danny’s attention. He whispered back, “What do you mean by-- oh.” Legally, his brother is dead. He died, he came back to life, but to everyone, Jason is dead. So... “He has a new civilian identity?” asked Danny.

- The teen leaned back and nodded. Then, he pointed to a door. “That’s Peter’s house,” he said. Then, he aimed his grappling hook to the sky.

- Danny stuttered a loud ‘thank you’, to which was responded to with a brief wave from the teen, who flew off to the next building over.

- Danny then went up to the door that belongs to Peter Todd. Jason Todd. His brother.

- Should he knock? Ring the doorbell?

- Before Danny could make a decision, the door opened for him.

- And there, in front of him, was a tall man who looked like a more human and slimmer version of Dan, a white streak in his hair, and a slight stubble on his chin. He had the same blue eyes as Danny. And those blue eyes widened when Danny brought up his blanket. His blanket full of stars, and planets, and tiny rockets that he loved so much the more he held on to it.

- “Jay... Jason?”

- The man’s chin wobbled, and Danny felt his own chin wobbling. Great. Both of them are going to cry. But, instead of saying anything, the man stepped towards him and brought him into a hug, a tight hug that’s so warm and full of love, Danny couldn’t help but hug back.

- “Danny?” Jason’s voice was breathy.

- Danny couldn’t respond, only letting out a small sound that was a mix of a whine and a grunt.

- Jason chuckled. “Still a monkey, aren’t ya?”

- Danny felt Jason’s core calming the more Danny stayed with him, and Jason felt himself lighter than he had in years. It couldn’t be because Danny was here, but it is! It is because Danny is here!

- Jason invites him inside. It was quiet at first, the two of them just taking in the other, trying to process how real this was. And then, they began exchanging stories. Something light, of what had been going on for the past years they’ve been apart.

- And then, the next thing they knew, it was already morning of the next day, and Danny needed to get back home. He gave one last hug to Jason, promising that he’ll visit again next week, and took off to the street, turning on his invisibility and flying back to Amity Park.

****

- Red Robin, or should we say Tim Drake, saw it all. From the moment Danny suddenly appeared to the moment Danny disappeared in the alleyway. He had just finished talking to Jason about some case they were working on together, although their relationship was still a bit rocky, when he saw the teen suddenly appear in the alleyway below Tim.

- Well, rocky relationship aside, Tim’s mind flew with a thousand thoughts a second when Danny confirmed who he was looking for. Danny knew for some reason that Jason was alive, but he didn’t know Jason’s fake identity. The teen knew where Jason lived, but he also looked like he was just going to go up some random door and hope that the person who opens it would be the person he’s looking for.

- Cass had taught him how to read sincerity of a person’s behavior, and Danny wasn’t hiding anything. He was sincerely looking for his brother.

- He was also kinda cute.

- “Tt. What are you spacing out about, Timothy? Your face is making a weird expression,” said the Demon Brat.

- Stephanie snickered. “Give him a break, Dames! Our dear Timmy-Wimmy’s in Wuuuuuuv~!”

- Tim sighed.

- Anything else that happens? It’s for another day <3

#Damn this got long XD #Oh? Did you guys spot a sprinkle of braindead ship in this? Yes #Yes you did!#My fingers couldn't stop themselves uwu #tim drake x danny fenton #braindead #dc x dp #danny phantom #jason todd #jazz fenton #danny fenton #tim drake #red robin #dp x dc #tucker foley #danny phantom x batman crossover

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deadsetobsessions · 1 day

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Pt. 3

Again, the timing is icky but pretty much everything about it is icky.

——

Bruce wondered when Talia al Ghul would stop upheaving his life.

He loves Damian, but one surprise child was a lot, considering the cult deprogramming they’d had to do.

A second, older, surprise child? That was a bit overkill.

At least this time, the conception was consensual.

Bruce cradled his head in his hands, still-gloved fingers gripping onto sweat-soaked hair. The glow of the bat computer shone on his lone figure, sat huddled before endless screens of investigations and the unraveling threads of Bruce’s sanity.

How was he to cope with the knowledge that a child- his child, like Dick and Damian and Tim and Jason and- suffered so at the man he thought he had beaten so soundly?

It was his fault, Bruce thought, that Ra’s al Ghul tortured his… Bruce’s… daughter so brutally. It was no doubt, a way to assuage his anger at Bruce’s denial of being his heir.

His mistakes always came back to haunt him, but it never laid its furious eyes and hands on his own person. No, when Bruce made mistakes, his loved ones paid for it.

He tried his best, pushed harder as Batman, in penance. But this… his unknown daughter, trapped in the shadows of the league where it is cold and cruel and brutally painful…

How could he repent for the sin of letting his daughter suffer and chained at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul? How could he show her that the shadows could be kind? That he would rather break his own spine and get lost in the time stream again before he could even fathom hurting her? He found himself stuck in the same loop of thoughts that plagued him when Damian first came into his orbit.

The screens turned black, and Oracle’s call sign flashed onto the dark pixels.

“Oracle. I hadn’t finished looking at the cases.”

“Go to sleep, Bruce.”

“No, there is still work to be-” his voice, dipping into the growl, died a quick death when Barbara cut him off.

“Your daughter is coming tomorrow. So, unless you want to look like a disheveled grease racoon when you meet her, go shower and get some actual sleep.”

Bruce paused, feeling oddly offended. His eye bags weren’t that bad.

Bruce caught sight of his reflection in one of the blacked out monitors.

…Nevermind.

He sighed. “…Thank you, Barbara.”

“Anytime, Bruce. I’m always here to kick your ass into gear.”

Bruce huffed, but obligingly got up to change and shower. Alfred silently appeared at the elevators, polished shoes tapping against the stone floor as he raised an imperious eyebrow at Bruce.

“I see Miss Barbara has managed to persuade you to retire at an hour common to regular man, Master Bruce.”

“Ah, yes, she… did.” Bruce felt the urge to apologize, because if Alfred’s up because of him, it’ll wear down harsher on the older man’s health. If there was one thing he took seriously, it would be the health of his loved ones. “Sorry, Alfred. I’ll head up to bed soon.”

“See to it that you do, Master Bruce. I will warm dinner that you had missed by many hours and bring it to your room.”

Bruce lingered as the butler turned around and began making his way back to the main house.

Alfred paused and turned around once more. “If I may offer you some advice?”

“Please. Always.”

Alfred sniffed delicately, most definitely thinking of the times Bruce decided not to take his very well reasoned and seasoned advice. “You have done well with Young Master Damian.”

“Most of that was Dick,” Bruce interrupted, man enough to admit that he wasn’t a present or a particularly good father figure before his jaunt through time and space. Alfred shot him a chiding look, reprimanding him for interrupting. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Perhaps, but you have put in effort towards all of your children in a way that I have yet to see since Master Jason had… gone.”

“I’ll never make that period of time up to Tim.” Bruce whispered. Another thing he was guilty of. Tim still avoided some spaces in the manor, even when Bruce had-

“That is because you sit here, wallowing in your guilt,” Alfred returned. He added a belated “Master Bruce,” and it sounded like ‘you utter buffoon.’

“But…”

“You must take the first step, Master Bruce.”

“What if she hates me? What if I’m not ready- what if I can’t help her?”

“You will try. She deserves that, at the very least. You must try. Even if you are not ready for the day, Master Bruce, it can not always be night.”

“… You’re right.” Bruce straightened his shoulders. Time doesn’t wait. He, of all people, knew that.

“You will find that I am hardly ever wrong.” Alfred primly rested his hands atop each other.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course. It was also meant literally, Master Bruce, for the sun shall try its best to peek out of Gotham’s smog in approximately three hours and fourteen minutes.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Bruce grouched.

——

Her mother gave her a slow, cautious hug, akin to approaching a wild animal.

She huffed, and pulled her mother into a crushing hug. She allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to linger and cling onto her mother’s shirt. Another tendency that Ra’s had thought he’d beaten out of her.

“Be careful,” the reincarnation whispered.

“You as well, my beloved daughter.”

‘You do not have to remind me that I am beloved, mother. I know.’

Talia al Ghul tucked a strand of the reincarnation’s curled hair behind her ear. “No, I do not believe that you do. But that is… my own fault. I will tell you and remind you that you are beloved to me as long as I can. I have two decades of it to make up to you, habibti.”

The flight attendant- a League operative- returned from placing her bags onto the private plane.

——

A sleek car made its way up Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. She’d declined the offer to pick her up from the airport. She had wanted a vehicle of her own, and some time before she met every one else. No doubt, knowing what she knew of her brother and Bruce Wayne, not to mention the little photographer, they were most likely tracing her path to Wayne manor obsessively.

She tapped her nails on the wheel as she drove towards her brother. Brothers. And… Bruce Wayne. On one hand, she’s kept them safe. On the other, she’d sacrificed years of getting to know them. It was odd, to feel this intensely awkward and nervous after years of intense hatred or apathy sprinkled by the the occasional love and fondness for Damian and her mother.

“Hmmm.” She hummed, slight smile spreading a bit more as the sound came out without pain. Two weeks, and the novelty of freedom had not worn off. She thinks that it would never wear off. She cherished it.

The gate had opened without needing a code, so they most definitely knew she was here. It’s a good thing she had prepared gifts in advance. Dodging Gothamites as they drove and jaywalked had been a rather unforeseen ordeal that she was not looking forward to repeating.

She rolled to a smooth stop at the front doors, giving the intricately carved oak doors a passing glance. She huffed a laugh as she saw Damian, flanked by Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, staring proudly outside at the front door. They’re anticipatory of her arrival. Warmth spread through her heart, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t the heat of rage.

She opened the doors with a quiet click and hiss, stepping out onto the heated paved driveway, and closed the door. At the steps, the two older men had frozen but Damian had come walking quickly towards her.

“Damian,” she whispered as he came near her, suffusing as much fondness as she could into his name. Her little brother all but sprinted towards her, screeching to a stop in front of her with excited eyes.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, ukhti.” He said formally. Her eyes softened and she pulled him into a hug.

(yā waṭawāṭī alṣṣḡīr is the phonetic spelling.) ("وطواطي الصغير" is the actual spelling. I think.)

“I have missed you, ya wat-wat alssgirr,” she whispered. The familiar endearment, “my little bat,” rung warmly like a warm crease ruffling his hair. The silks of her clothes and the ever present warm sand and candle scent wrapped around him like a hug… like the hug she was currently giving him.

(Her clothes were in blues and silvers. It suited her, she who had been forced in green and golds and cuts of black.)

“I still can not believe you all but told me who father was and I still could not figure it out until mother told me.”

She pulled back. ‘Damian, you were five.’

“I have little doubt you were smarter at my age, ukhti, so do not lie to me.” Damian grumbled. Nevertheless, he stepped back.

‘No, you were smarter.’

And to her, he was. It’s not like Damian had the edge she did, and he wasn’t the one trapped for twenty something years. She had foolishly thought that Ra’s wouldn’t dare to harm her too much, seeing as she was his blood, but Damian knew from day 1. She made sure he did. If she was half as smart as Damian, she would have bent her knee and obeyed, no matter how she felt about killing. She would have taken warning Ra’s issued and soaked in the poisonous praise to bide her time to escape. She could not- she did not- do what Damian found effortless, and paid the price for it.

“Unlikely,” Damian said, turning around fully, but she could see the tips of her brother’s ears burning. Ah, perhaps she had been to stingy with compliments if he was shy hearing a mild one, sincere as it might have been. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the butler, and an integral part of the family.”

Damian glanced at her, taking in her suddenly impassive face, and nods. Good. His attitude towards Pennyworth when he first arrived was… mildly shameful. His ukhti was smart enough to know that and therefore he won the argument.

On her part, the reincarnation followed along like she hadn’t mildly stalked this family for decades. It was nice to see excitement rearing on her brother’s face. It was rare in the league and Gotham’s gloom had ironically cheered him up far more than the suns of desserts ever did. She nodded at Alfred Pennyworth, who had admirably recovered from his earlier shock.

“And this is… Bruce Wayne. Our father.”

She tucked a strand of curled hair back, impassive blue eyes meeting her… father’s.

She offered him a short nod.

——

“My word,” Alfred Pennyworth muttered as his charge’s (his son’s) daughter step out of the car. Her steps were silent, graceful, and lighter than a gazelle.

The way she moved, even as she hugged young master Damian, whispered of leashed lethality and treacherous waters. She moved like if grace had a form and Alfred was willing to bet his entire career that not an iota of air got close to her without her knowledge of it, and it reminded the aging man of the young Miss Cassandra. He knew then, that she could have pretended to be unassuming and that he would have had a hard time equating her with danger. That she showed them her potential for death was a sign of trust.

But it was not the way she claimed death as her own name that caught the former spy’s attention.

No.

It was her blue eyes and the way they ever so slightly crinkled fondly as she laid eyes upon her younger brother. It was the way her hair, curled in a nostalgic style, that curtained her face as she spoke to the young Wayne heir, though he could not hear her voice. It was the way that she tucked Damian against her side, protective but encouraging.

It was the way that she, despite Talia al Ghul’s features, resembled his dearest friend, Martha Wayne, in her every movement.

Alfred Pennyworth felt like he was decades younger, standing before Martha as she fondly tucked Bruce against her side and successfully needled Thomas into going to see Bruce’s favorite movie.

It felt like he had his best friend once more, just a little.

From the way Master Bruce stared, it seemed as though he thought the same.

Alfred straightened when young master Damian introduced him. He was the Wayne Family Butler. And she was definitely a Wayne.

Master Bruce stood there like a lout as his daughter greeted him. Alfred shot him a scathing look- he had taught Master Bruce much better manners than to gape, the nerve!- before smoothly directing the attention away. His hands moved as he spoke.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss-”

She made a sharp motion to cut him off and signed something. Alfred might be a tad rusty in Arabic sign language (like he and the rest of the family hadn’t spent the last two weeks frantically memorizing and brushing up on their sign language) but he knew a name sign when he saw one.

“al Ghul.” Damian recognized. He did not use regular Arabic Sign Language with her often, vastly preferring their own established sign, but that did not mean he slacked. “You may call her al-Ghul.”

‘Or nothing at all,’ Damian’s sister signed. She looked at him like she was waiting. A test, Alfred realized.

Alfred pushed the slight twinge of disheartening disappointment away. He had wanted to call her Miss Wayne, to perhaps indulge in a bit of nostalgia for a while longer. But he shan’t do it at the expense of his charge.

“Miss al Ghul,” he continued, not missing a beat, imitating the name sign with pin point accuracy. She lifted her chin. Alfred sighed in relief. He passed. And now, perhaps he should revive Ra’s al Ghul and have a nice, entirely civil conversation about Miss al Ghul’s expectation that her wishes would go ignored.

Alfred will bring his shotguns and most likely would abandon pretenses as soon as that old goat got into his crosshairs. Old as he might be, he was still a very good shot, and civility was reserved for those with honor.

“Please head inside. I am sure young master Damian would love to guide you on a tour,” Alfred continued like he didn’t think of violent second deaths for Ra’s al Ghul. “Perhaps Master Bruce will join you, if you are amendable, once he has managed to stop imitating the rather life like form of a smooth brained sloth.”

Alfred congratulated himself on the small crinkle of humor that graced Miss al Ghul’s otherwise expressionless face. Well, expressionless to those that did not know where to look. Fortunately, Alfred and the rest of the family were used to stoic caveman micro expressions, courtesy of Bruce, and therefore it would not be much of a problem.

“I will bring your bags up to your room.”

She scrutinized him and then dipped her head.

‘Be careful. There are dangerous things in there.’

“I assure you the utmost privacy in regards to your belongings,” Alfred said.

“Pennyworth will not peruse your belongings, ukhti. He has more honor and respect than that.”

Alfred would like to interrogate Talia al Ghul to see who he must introduce some lead to, that clearly disrespected Miss al Ghul’s privacy like so. But for now, he will bask in the warmth of young master Damian’s implicit trust.

Miss al Ghul nodded. She opened the trunk of the car- the interior of which Alfred could now perceive to be entirely customized and of extremely quality material. She handed the keys and gave him access to her luggage. Then, placing her hand at young master Damian’s shoulder, followed the young master into the halls where she ought to have been raised. Or, at the very least, ought to have taken a step in at least once before today.

Master Bruce lingered at the doorway, torn between following the siblings and helping Alfred with the luggage (read: running away.)

“The daylight is wasting, Master Bruce.”

Master Bruce skittered in behind them like a newborn colt, wobbling and anxious.

Well, it’s time for Alfred to do his job. There was only a single duffle bag.

Hm. He’ll have to tell Master Bruce to take her out for necessities. He hardly doubted that a single bag could last her very long. And Alfred Pennyworth was hellbent on convincing his granddaughter to stay, may the gods have mercy on whichever poor soul that tried to convince her otherwise for he won’t.

——

She followed Damian as he led her deeper within the walls of a home she knew by heart from afar. She was like the little photographer in that way. Bruce Wayne trailed behind them like a particularly awkward ghoul, and she found it amusing to equate this turtle necked man was the illustrious Dark Knight. How dangerous.

“This is the first parlor. It is for guests of the… regular persuasion.”

Ah, for the civilians. She nodded.

“Ah, the silverware was selected by Alfred.” Bruce interjected, gesturing to the display silverware by the door. Their cabinets were intricate without taking away from the paintings upon the delicate ceramic.

She looked at him, wondering why he was following before giving up and nodding. It was his house.

(Bruce, for his part, felt like his daughter had laid judgement upon him… and found him lacking.)

‘It is… adequate.’ She sighed to Damian. Damian tutted.

“It’s fine to say quaint, sister. It could hardly compare to the palace.”

Bruce jolted, plans for converting the manor into a palace already in the making.

No, he couldn’t. Alfred would murder him with his favorite dish.

‘I like it, even if it is smaller.’

“….you do?”

‘You are happy here. It is warm to you. I like it.’ She repeated.

Damian latched onto her sleeve. “I- I shall show you my art. And then introduce you to the rest of the bumbling fools we have for brothers-”

She tilted her head. Bruce paused as well when Damian’s words cut off.

“If… you want them as brothers. It would be… helpful, to integrate.”

She waited.

“But… I am the first. Your blood. And-”

‘I will make room in my heart for them, if you wish it. I already know some of them.’ She allowed a small smile to show. ‘But that does not mean you will ever lose your place, little bat.’

Damian felt extremely thankful that father had not managed to pick up their version of sign language yet.

“Well… as long as you’re aware.” He marched further into the manor. She followed, once more, a look of fond indulgence gleaming in her eyes.

——

She stood in front of a painting her younger brother had done.

‘I made it two weeks ago,’ he’d told her, fingers curled into her palm.

It was green. She hated green. And gold. And ominous. Rage. Harsh, bold strokes and spots where the texture of the canvas were either globbed over or painfully showing through.

Her hands traced the single stroke of blue amidst the turbulence of green.

She tucked Damian against her side and realized that perhaps he understood after all, what it felt like. Perhaps not all of it, but enough.

——

“Here is your room, ukhti.” Damian stood watch as his sister scanned the room. She quickly removed three listening devices as Damian sighed.

‘You’ve gotten better.’ She crossed the room and plucked the listening bug from its place on the door frame.

“Clearly not good enough.” Damian huffed. “But I have beaten your knife game record. What do you think of the room?”

His sister rolled her eyes and handed him a blade she pulled from somewhere on her person.

An implicit challenge.

“No cutting your fingers off, please.” Father interceded.

“Begone, father. We are doing sibling bonding, something I remember you insisting that I participate in.”

Damian shut the door on his stupefied face, matching his sister’s sharp smirk as he splayed his hand on the dresser and raised the blade.

——

Alfred walked in with a covered plate and paused at the sight of the dresser.

Then, he looked on as Damian sat at the desk, rapidly signing to his sister in their own version of the language as said sister pulled out an entire wardrobe and a half to fill in the walk-in closet.

Alfred made a note to study some more magic.

“Miss al-Ghul. I bring you a snack that young master Damian made and to inform you that the others will be arrive en masse, within an hour.” Alfred paused. “Might I interest you in a mat before the two of you decide to… take a gander at furniture redecoration in the future?”

“Of course, Pennyworth. Apologies.”

“I’ll try to make sure they won’t overwhelm you. They can be a lot, at once.” Bruce said from the doorway. Miss al Ghul glanced at him and dipped her head in thanks. Her eyes wandered right back to the dessert.

Alfred made another note.

‘You made this for me?’ She asked, switching to standard.

Damian grumbled. “Do not eat it. I could not get the spice quite right, no matter how many variations…”

‘I am sure it will be good.’ She took the plate from Alfred’s hand and uncovered it.

They all had the fortune of witnessing a true, genuine wide eyed smile from a stoic face.

Alfred inhaled sharply. He had thought Master Bruce and young master Damian had inherited Thomas’ dimples. But she had inherited his entire smile.

‘Bstilla!’ She turned to Damian. ‘My favorite! You made this?’

“I know that. I am not incompetent as to not notice when you snuck three of them from the palace kitchens. You must give me the recipe from the cooks. I could not get it to taste like the spices they used. I even imported spices!”

Miss al-Ghul, like she had forgotten he and Master Bruce were there, stabbed a fork into the pie and put it into her mouth.

“Ukhti! Don’t- do not eat that! Spit it out! The pastry is too thick and-”

She held up her hand. ‘It’s good. I know what it is missing.’

She strode to her magic bag and pulled out a bottle.

She sprinkled flakes on top and offered a forkful of b’stilla to the young master who, shockingly, did not insist on his own utensil.

His expression lightened. “This is it. What is it? You know of the chefs’ methods?”

She sprinkled the mysterious spice on the food. ‘You’ve never eaten anything the chefs have made. I made your food by hand to prevent assassinations and inoculate you against toxins. Also, this is poison.’

Alfred stiffened.

“It’s what?!” Bruce spoke up, rushing into the room, finally to try and look Damian over.

‘It is fine. He has been immune since he was three.’

Miss al Ghul placed a piece of poisoned b’stilla in her mouth and ate. Young master Damian batted his father off, saying that poison inoculation was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise, though, was something else.

“That is- you- you’re the one who made my meals?” Young Master Damian demanded, looking guilty. “But- I- why did you not tell me? I made all of those demands in the middle of the night- what about the time I sent back the knafe fifteen times?”

She nodded.

“Why would you- why did you not tell me?”

‘You knew what grandfather thought of women. And besides, it was the only time I was allowed sweets. He did not want me to ruin my figure as it would lower my marketability.’

Alfred itched for his gun.

“You are not a commodity,” Master Bruce stated, intense as he tended to be. Miss al Ghul blinked at him.

‘… I am aware. But… thank you.’

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” And there went the emotionally intelligent Master Bruce. May he rest in peace until the next time he decides to make an appearance.

“I believe today is a chocolate chip cookie day, do you not, young master Damian?”

“Yes, Pennyworth, I believe it is.”

‘I have never tried it before.’

“You will love it. Pennyworth’s cookies are the best in the world, as is expected.”

Alfred watched as young master Damian tugged his sister out and marveled. The sides of his grandson they rarely get to see was so easily pulled out by his older sister.

——

Y’all I wanted to write her meeting the siblings but Alfred came out of no where and went haha nope feel the angst of a man who lost his best friend and had to raise her vigilante child.

Alfred, seeing Bruce put on the bat cowl for the first time: martha, why have you forsaken me

——

Me: what would baby assassins play as a binding game?

Me, remembering my past as a kid: I Spy, but with trackers and bugs. oh wait… THE KNIFE GOES CHOP CHOP CHOP

——

Also, I think B’stilla was food meant only for royalty and was probably rooted in slavery, so I thought it would be a meaningful nod to her position of privilege and how she are like a king but was treated as a… bed warmer and a slave. Yeah. If anyone knowledgeable on food history wants to school me on b’stilla, feel free to do so. I did like, a cursory research at best.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne’s guilt complex #Bruce ‘everything is my fault’ Wayne #no Bruce not everything in fact is about you bby #ras al ghul #Ra’s was a jackass long before you were born #oc in dc #batman #tim drake #damian wayne’s older sister #damian wayne #Bruce took his guil and fucking sprinted with it #he’s also making a lot of (very fair considering the circumstances) assumptions about oc #did I write that entire first part so I could make Alfred quote a poem?#yes yes I did #technically it’s also a part of a Kanye west song or whatever #oc: my brother is so cute look he’s so excited to see me #everyone else: what? hes walking so elegantly and calmly???#sleep deprived me did not do the difference between habibi and habibti #Alfred Pennyworth #Alfred Pennyworth was besties with Martha Wayne #Martha Wayne coming back to haunt the Waynes via her granddaughter #Alfred calling Ra’s and honorless goat #a couple thousand words of Alfred being sassy

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absurdthirst · 1 year

Text

Cracking the Case {Tim Rockford x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Flirting, mentions of crime scene photos, misuse of handcuffs, bondage, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Staying late with your boss, Detective Tim Rockford, turns into some sexy times at his desk, making him crack the case while he's buried inside you.

A/N: Did we write a fic about a damn Merge Mansion commercial? Yes we did. Do we have any regrets? Not a damn one! 🤡🤡🤡 Based off how sexy that damn stupid game commercial is and this NSFW GIF.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Tim Rockford MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

He’s been at his desk all day, gun holster still on his shoulders and you bite your lip, eying the cups lined up on his desk. “Tim.” You say and he barely tears his eyes away from the photos he’s been studying on his desk. “Tim.” You repeat, knowing he will be there all night if left to his own devices.

“Yes?” He asks, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the photo of the fatal wound to look into your concerned eyes.

“You need to eat.” You huff, knowing you could use something too but your boss has spent three days studying the evidence, sleeping in the office and maybe managing to drag himself back to his apartment for a quick shower. “I’ll get you something.” You stand up, making your way out of the police department to head down to the 24 hour diner you frequent when his case keeps you both tethered to work.

Tossing his pen down, Tim rocks back in his chair and sighs, closing his eyes as he presses the pads of his fingers to them. Staring at the crime scene photos for so long that he feels like they are blurring together. He’s missing something, he can feel it. It’s right in front of him but he just seem can’t find it. It’s times like these that he longs for the days where a bottle of bourbon is in the bottom cabinet of his desk drawer and a pack of Marlboro Reds sit right next to his hand. He’s given that up, trying to be the ‘new image’ of the police force but it’s damn hard when you’re trying to solve a case like this. The chair creaks as he rocks back, finally aware of the growling in his stomach that you’ve insisted on taking care of for him. He’d be lost without you.

You return with the food, a burger and fries for Tim, knowing he will be annoyed if you get him something healthier and you just want him to eat something and not just chain smoke until the light bulb goes off. He’s got his face in his hands and you set the take out bag down. “Betty says hello.” You tease, knowing he is aware of the older waitress having a crush on the ‘hunky police detective’. “She even threw in a slice of apple pie for you.”

Tim snorts and shakes his head, reaching for the bag. “Someday soon I’m gonna have to go back in there and flirt with her a bit.” He tells you, knowing that the woman is probably ten years too old for him, but he shoots you a grin. “Keep the pie slices rollin’.” The mouthwatering scent of the hot burger makes him groan as he opens the styrofoam contain and he looks at you. “You not get anything for yourself? Or you plannin’ on going home?” He wouldn’t blame you if you did leave, it’s far past the hours that you were expected to answer the phones, the Desk Sergeant already taking over for the night. You aren’t a police officer, but as the department’s secretary, you were a damn vital part of keeping this place running.

He takes a bite of the burger and you hold up your own bag, “figured I’d get something to eat before I head home. Keep you company before you retreat into your mind again.” You tease and sit down on the other side of his desk, gathering up the photos and keeping them in order so he can concentrate on his food. “I know you want to solve this case but punishing yourself by not eating and sleeping won’t get you any closer to solving this.” You warn him, having watched him and the others try to be superhuman and it always leads to mistakes. “You should go home, eat, shower, get laid. Will help you take your mind off of the case and you’ll come in with a fresh perspective.”

Tim scoffs as he picks up a fry and bites into it. “Gotta go out to get laid unless I call up some of the working girls.” He jokes. “And the captain would have my ass if I got busted by vice like Johnson did a few months ago.” Tim was a bachelor, probably always would be one after his fiancée jilted him a few months before the wedding years ago. Claiming that he worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her. It was probably true, so he hadn’t really tried after that, figuring it just wasn’t in the cards for him.

“You could easily go out and get laid. You’re a handsome guy. Smart, funny. Just flash the handcuffs and say you know how to use them.” You home and bite into your own sandwich, watching him chew with satisfaction that he’s eating. “Too bad you’re always in this damn office. You’d be popular at the bar down the street from me. Lot of girls like a cop with handcuffs.”

His brow arches up at your comment, wondering briefly if you were one of those girls before he tries to push the thought away. You are off limits. Plenty of detectives had tried it with you only to be shot down and he enjoys the rapport you have, not willing to risk it. “Lots of girls, huh?” He asks, taking another bite of his burger. “Too bad I’m chained to my desk.”

You chuckle, “some women would like that.” You joke and continue eating. The silence is comforting, both of you enjoying a hard earned meal after a long day of trying to solve this case. You watch him as he eats, mustache getting a little wild after concentrating on this case and his hair all over the place yet he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His dark eyes meet yours and you smile, setting your sandwich down. “You know…I’m one of those girls…who like a man with handcuffs.”

Tim’s brow shoots up and for a moment he’s speechless. Clearing his throat for a moment and nearly choking on his own spit. “I- you are?” His cock twitches in his pants as he imagines putting his cuffs on you. Bending you over and pressing you up against this desk as you moan softly.

You bite your lip, enjoying the clueless look on his face like you haven’t been subtly flirting with him for God knows how long. The lines on his forehead become more pronounced and you decide to take the risk. You can’t keep imagining him between your thighs every night while you rub your clit. This is either going to be the best or worst decision of your life. You push your sandwich aside and stand up, walking around the desk until you’re beside him, and you look into those dark eyes, wide with shock, while you slowly pull your skirt up and over your hips to expose your panties. “Yes. I am.” You say softly, voice taking on a seductive lilt.

“Shit.” The way his eyes shift between your exposed panties and your face would be comical if he wasn’t trying to make sure you aren’t teasing him. His mouth runs dry and Tim quickly stands, abandoning his meal to press close to you. “Are you- fuck, are you sure?” He demands, needing to hear you say the words.

You chuckle nervously, reaching up tentatively to wrap your arms around his neck so you can press closer to him. “Yes baby. I am sure. I want you to fuck me. Always have. Since the day I started working here.” You confess, keeping your eyes on his.

Tim hisses, unable to believe this is happening and he lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Blindly striking out behind you at his desk to clear a space for you to sit while he frantically slides his tongue into your mouth. Needy and desperate for you, it’s been so long since he’s touched a woman and he’s often thought of you with his hand around his cock in the shower.

You moan into his mouth, pulling him even closer as his hands slide down to squeeze your ass. You can feel the pent up need inside of him, similar to your own, and you whimper into his mouth while his tongue slides against yours. “Fuck Tim.” You pant, tilting your head when he kisses down your neck and presses you up against his desk so you can feel his hardening cock.

“Yeah?” He groans against your flesh and sucks at your pulse. His hands sliding down your thighs, squeezing them and then he presses two fingers against your clothed clit. “You want me to use my cuffs on you?” He asks as he rubs the damp fabric. “Or just turn you around and fuck you?”

“Oh God. Cuffs. Please use the cuffs.” You beg, having imagined it too many times. “Please baby. I- I just need you to touch me.” You reach down to squeeze him through his dress pants, wanting to make him moan.

His hands reluctantly pull away, fumbling behind his back to pull his cuffs out of the small pouch he has on his belt. Grabbing your wrist to slap the cold steel around it as he pushes your arm behind your back. “Jesus Christ baby, you drive me insane.” He groans, eager to give you what you want.

You gasp at the cold metal encircling your wrists and you love the way he bends you over his desk once you are cuffed up. “Tim.” You whine when he grinds against you, making your cunt clench around nothing. “Please baby. I need you to fuck me.” You beg, aching for him after so long of wondering what it would be like.

Chuckling, Tim kisses you again, “I’m going to baby, I promise.” His fingers find the edge of your panties and he starts to strip them down your thighs. Dropping them at your feet on top of your heels. “Step out of them and turn around. Spread your legs.” He orders roughly.

You struggle but manage to kick the panties off of your shoes, letting them land wherever, and you spin around, spreading your legs for the handsome detective. “Fuck me. Please.” You aren’t above begging, wanting your dreams to come true.

There’s so much he would do to you if he wasn’t in his office. Surrounded by the case details and photos, sure that someone could walk in. That makes it even thrilling, even though the lights are off outside and most everyone else has gone home. He reaches out and slaps your ass as he unbuckles his belt with one hand. “Fuck, your gagging for it, aren’t you? Bet you're soaking wet, eager for my cock.”

God, hearing him speak like that, husky and deep, has you dripping. “Ye-yes Detective. I- I want your cock. Please. I need you.” You pant, not above begging at this point. You feel his cock push against your ass cheek and you gasp, unable to believe how big he feels. “Fuck, Tim.” You whine, grinding back against him, fingers flexing behind your back.

He decides that he’s not going to spit in his hand, wanting it to sting a bit as he stretches you out. Needing a good fuck to smooth his rough edges and maybe help him focus on the case. Taking his cock in hand, he nudges along your slit, feeling how wet you are. “Dirty fucking girl, you’re soaked.” He groans. “Let’s see how well you take my cock.” He nestles the head against your entrance and snaps his hips forward, pinning you to the desk as he drives his cock deep.

You collapse forward, head coming down to rest near the take out bag and your mouth falls open into a moan as he pushes deep inside of you. He’s thick, stretching you out, and your nails dig into your palms, unable to believe how good he feels already. “Oh fuck.” You choke, eyes squeezed shut as his hands grip your hips.

Once he’s buried to the hilt, it’s like a switch has been flipped. Clenching his jaw, Tim draws his hips back to start a frantic, devastating pace. Nearly immediately breathless from how hard he is pounding into you, groaning and grunting as he feels your soaked walls clench around him.

“Shit! Shit!” You cry out, breath knocked out of you from his harsh pace, making you moan his name, and you can’t do anything but let him fuck you, use your body for his own pleasure. “Baby. Oh fuck, Tim. Yes. Yes!” You moan.

“Quiet.” He hisses, not slowing down. “Can-can’t let everyone hear how- how much of a dirty girl you are.” He groans, closing his eyes and enjoying the squelch of your cunt as he drills into you. Slippery and hot, perfect for him. “Fuck, baby. It’s- it’s like heaven.” He groans, opening his eyes and his gaze falls on the strewn photos on his desk.

You don’t know he’s eying the photos on his desk as he pounds into you. You love how his hands come to grip your handcuffed wrists, using you as leverage to push harder and deeper. “So good.” You whimper, “so fucking good, sir.” You are used to addressing him as sir or detective and that slips into your dirty little fantasies.

“Shit.” Tim’s eyes widen and his pace stutters for a moment and the pieces click together. “That’s it.” He groans, gripping your hips tighter and pushing into you faster as he realizes he’s just solved the case. “Fuck that’s it!”

You don’t realize he’s just solved the case, you think he’s close to cumming and you’re a little disappointed that you aren’t going to cum but it’s still been nice to have him inside of you. “I’m on birth control. You can cum inside of me.” You sigh, closing your eyes and waiting for the warmth of his seed to fill you up.

Tim growls, flattening himself against your back and slides his hand around your hip to find your clit. “Fucking hell,” he moans into your ear. “Gonna- fuck, gonna fill you up. So fucking perfect.” He pants. “Helped me solve the case, fucking solved it buried in your cunt.” He presses two fingers to your clit and rubs frantically, wanting you to cum on his cock.

Your eyes open in shock and you grin, glad he’s solved the case. “Gl-glad I could help.” You chuckle breathlessly before you moan when his fingers rub your clit. Hard and fast as he pushes deep inside of you. “Oh fuck.” You pant, loving the way he kisses along your neck. “Shit. Tim. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You whine, walls fluttering around his cock and he pushes towards your orgasm. You cry out a few thrusts later, clamping down on his length and soaking him as your mouth opens in a silent scream.

He feels it. The hot, wet gush of your cunt right before you tighten so much that he moans. The grip on his cock almost makes him unable to move as he grinds deep. He’s right behind you, poised on the edge and burying his cock deep, moaning your name as he fills you with hot spurts of his seed. Painting your walls as he chants your name breathlessly.

You pant, relaxing on his desk as your body buzzes with the aftermath of your orgasm. You feel giddy and you smile against the surface of his desk as he leans over you, catching his breath. “I was not expecting that to happen today.” You chuckle, knees wobbly and you’re grateful you’re on his desk.

Tim huffs in agreement, pulling out of you gently so he can watch your cunt flutter and try to push out his cum. “Didn’t expect to solve the case while fucking you.” He jokes, caressing your hip before he grabs the photos that had caught his eye.

“Glad I could help. You wanna finish your dinner and then you can call it in?” You suggest, looking over your shoulder at him. He nods and you watch him eye the photo that has helped him solve the case. “Could you uncuff me first, babe?” You joke, wiggling your fingers.

“Right. Shit.” Tim hisses, immediately dropping the photos and pulling up his pants that have dropped to mid thigh so he can pull his keys out. “Sorry.” He huffs, quickly unlocking the cuffs and taking them off of you, gently massaging your wrists for a second before he lets go of you and steps to the side.

You groan softly as you stand up straight, grabbing the napkins from the diner to clean yourself up before his cum drips onto the floor. Once you’re cleaned up as much as possible, you shove the napkins into the empty take out bag and find your panties to put them on, adjusting your skirt. “Glad you solved the case.” You kiss his cheek and shift to step away from his desk.

Tim stares at the pictures in amazement, unable to believe that he had missed this. It’s so obvious now. He shoves a hand through his hair and mumbles, “thanks,” as he thinks about the way to present this to the DA. You shuffle off to the side and it jars him out of his thinking. “Hey-“ he clears his throat. “You wanna get a drink?” He asks, suddenly awkward even if he had just railed you over his desk. “I mean, like a date?”

You offer him a soft smile, stepping closer so you can kiss his cheek. “Yeah. I’d like that.” You say and step back. “Go solve the case and be the best detective on the force and then we can go get that drink.” You promise, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

Tim smiles at you, nodding quickly. “Give me ten minutes and then we’ll talk about what we can do in the interrogation room over a drink.” He winks and quickly buttons up his pants so he can grab the phone to call the DA and get an arrest warrant issued. He managed to solve the case after all, all thanks to you. Maybe he needed to fuck you during every case from now on, just to make sure justice is served.

#pedro pascal #merge mansion #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford smut #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford imagine #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford fanfic #tim rockford merge mansion #did we write a fic based on a game commercial? yes we did #no shame #detective tim rockford can slap cuffs on me anytime

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