#tim drake x reader

[gay-dorito-dust]

You may request A batboys reacting to the death of the reader

First time writing for Tim, so he’s probs ooc in this one.

Dick feels as though he’s failed you.

He tries to act like he was fine but he was far from it and everyone knew it as they stepped on eggshells with him during this time.

Dick would often find himself sat on the very rooftops where he’d take you on countless dates or just to star gaze and talk as though you were still with him.

It was his own way of comforting himself with your loss but that was never enough to stop the tears that fell from his eyes when he spotted a bright star he’s never seen before until now, and laughs humourlessly.

‘I see you’ve finally made your way amongst the stars huh sweetheart?’ He’d say as your star would twinkle in response, making him chuckle. ‘You’re so beautiful, the brightest of your kind.’ He adds sombrely as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he felt his heart sing out for you, only to receive nothing in return.

Reality was often disappointing but with you it was a fairy tale.

Waking up to you was a dream within itself and getting to do mundane things with you before heading off to work was something that could only exist in a daydream.

He knew Hayley misses you as badly as he does with how he’d hear the poor dog whine and whimper at the door, as if waiting for you to walk through it and tackle her with kisses and love like you always did, only to get nothing for hours.

‘I know, I miss them too.’ He says against Hayley’s fur as she whimpers and whines at the door. ‘I miss them so fucking much it hurts.’ He adds as he allows himself to mourn for you alongside his dog long into the night.

Jason blames himself for not being fast enough or strong enough to keep you protected and safe.

The apartment you once shared with him that only recently had started to feel like home to him now felt cold and haunted with the ghost of you, so much so to the point he avoids it at all cost.

Nothing felt right without you, everything felt wrong and unjustified that he became more ruthless then before on patrols just to let off some steam and would come back from them more beaten and bruised then normal.

He didn’t care, he couldn’t feel anything anymore with how numb he became after loosing you.

Dick and Roy would stop by to see how he was doing but each visit was the same with Jason refusing his older brother and best friend entry as he held one of your plushies tightly against his chest. He knows they mean well but he just couldn’t find it within himself to hear the same thing he’s heard from everyone else; It just felt disingenuous after a while and didn’t feel as though people truly understood the impact that you had on him throughout your time together.

Jason would become more destructive with himself and going headfirst into danger without a second thought and damns his teammates for dragging him out by the scruff of his neck as he fights and kicks out of their hold. He doesn’t want to be saved! He just wanted to be with you again, why couldn’t they see that?!

After loosing you Jason becomes more prone to angry outbursts and often lets them out on the wrong person but he couldn’t care less at this point, his favourite person was gone and he was left back where he was before you.

Lost and deeply afraid.

Tim would retreat from everyone and everything by cooping himself into his room, rarely to come out.

He’d rather rot in his bed and on his phone, looking through all the photos you’ve taken together and seeing just how happy you both were, all the while a pit in his stomach grew at the thought of all the plans you’ve made but would never get to do.

He hated how easily he gave you his heart and hated it even more at just how easy it was to loose you that he wishes that he could stop himself from meeting you for the first time, just so he could selfishly save himself from the best moments of his life and the inevitable heartbreak he’d soon suffer.

Tim would do anything in his power to get you back but knew that it just wasn’t possible.

He knew Jason was given life by the Lazarus pit but he wasn’t willing to subject you to that even if he was held at gunpoint. He’d rather you rest in peace than force you to live with the knowledge that you should technically be dead.

Tim would remain in his room, wondering about the what ifs and the what could’ve beens if you hadn’t died. Would someone have taken your place? Was your death an unchangeable fixed point in time that was meant to happen?

He would only be reunited with you in his dreams where he has saved you and you had gotten to live out the rest of your life happily, rather then left for dead in an alleyway not too far from the place where you were originally going to meet up for date night.

Damian dedicated his life to getting revenge.

He had lost the light in his life, so why should he think his adversaries should live when you weren’t even given the option?

There will be more bodies pilling up on the streets of Gotham at a faster rate than normal whenever Damian is on patrol, much to Bruce’s dismay.

His anger and grief was all consuming and that left little to no room for logic to make him stop and see what he was doing was no better than the thing that took you away.

Life was black and white for a long time for Damian and you were the colour.

You were the air he breathed and without you he was gasping.

He knew about the Lazarus pit in his grandfather’s possession and its mythical properties and how it gave Jason a second chance at life. However he was at a cross roads on using it for his own selfish gain, on one hand he could have you back and everything would be fine again, but on the other hand you wouldn’t be the version of you he fell in love with…

Damian didn’t know what to do. The grief, the anger, the sadness…it was all too much for him. He felt as though he apart of him was missing and he would never get it back, it just wasn’t possible.

Bruce feels as though nothing has changed since his parents death.

He may be older, faster, stronger and wiser but that didn’t mean nothing in the face of death, and your death only proved that to be true as he held you in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quietly sobs into your cold neck.

Much like Tim, Bruce doesn’t take care of himself anymore and it was up to Alfred to make sure that he doesn’t keep over and die unexpectedly.

‘They wouldn’t want this for you sir.’ Alfred would say as Bruce slams his hands down on the surface of his desk. ‘And what would you know that they want for me Alfred, y/n’s dead and it’s my fault.’ He would bark and bare his teeth at the only father figure he had in his life, a father figure whom has seen this expression bore on the young master’s face more times then he could count, but it still hurt him to see Bruce in pain and heartbreak.

‘They would want you to take care of yourself, sleep proper hours, eat full meals, shower, reach out to anyone,’ Alfred began to walk towards Bruce and place a hand on his shoulder, where he could practically feel the unbridled anger and pain radiation through him that he kept under control. ‘They wouldn’t want you to wallow in pain alone, Gotham needs you.’

‘And I needed them.’ Bruce replied sharply, aggressively wiping his eyes with his hand as he looks over at a framed picture of you that he always kept nearby. ‘All I wanted was them.’ He adds softly this time as he looks at Alfred, lost and confused at what to do now that his anchor was gone. ‘I miss them so much Alfred.’

Alfred brings Bruce into his arms, much like he did when he lost his parents, when he lost Jason and now you, allowing him to burrow his face into the Butler’s shoulder and softly sob into the fabric. Alfred felt his heart break even more as he rubbed Bruce’s back in an attempt of bringing him comfort. ‘I know master Bruce, I know, but you’d be doing their memory a great disservice by destroying yourself.’ The older man started as he looked over at the framed picture of you and smiled soberly, you were a beacon to Bruce and Alfred wasn’t afraid to say that he viewed you as his in law with how happy you made Bruce and that was all Alfred could ever want for him.

Now that you were gone, Alfred couldn’t help but feel that the manor got just that little bit lonelier without you.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake imagines #tim drake x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne imagines

[on-leatheredwings]

It's not a request, just wanna know your thoughts about yandere masochist Tim?

•́ ‿ ,•̀

> romantic 18+ > twcw: bdsm, yandere-typical behaviors, can be read as dub-con despite reader being the dominant > kinda treated it like a hc/imagine request anyway hahhh it was fun to write!

Man, yandere masochist Tim would be a little bit of a mindfuck. But a delicious one, to be sure! I think the relationship is initially enticing to you because, well, Tim's the one getting dominated here. You're the one with the upper hand.

(He thinks it's very cute of you to assume that. Despite being the submissive, Tim’s definitely the one in control here.)

On a surface-level, Tim would enjoy letting go and putting himself in your hands. The Bats are adept at multitasking, but even geniuses like them get… stressed. Sometimes he doesn’t want to think, Lord knows he does enough of that already. Sometimes, it’s nice to be the pawn in someone else’s game for once, but also be able to enjoy it.

On a deeper level, Tim likes being your sub because it truly means that he's yours and you’re his. He loves when you pull at his hair, nip at him, or bully him. Your anger, your passion, your punishment– only he gets to see and enjoy the darker sides of you that you keep hidden from view during the day. Tim is greedy. Both the pain and pleasure you dish out is for him, and him alone, to take. And the same goes for your softness during the aftercare.

I see Tim enjoying being any flavor of masochist/sub, depending on his mood. And depending on yours as well! He can be a feisty, vexing brat with a smart mouth or a whimpering, pleading submissive. He has nothing if not the range! I think he’d really enjoy spanking or flogging.

His favorite position is head down, ass up. He likes the vulnerability and surprise, and the option to hide his face and mewl into the sheets. He's partial to being blindfolded as well! He enjoys bondage and shibari, too. He could easily escape, but he doesn't - that's him showing his respect, adoration, and trust for you.

Tim's more … possessive qualities will show themselves if you aren’t in a relationship with him, only friends with benefits.

"I may... find another sub, if that's okay with you?" No, it's not okay with him. Only he gets to see you this way. He feels obscenely, viscerally opposed to the idea, but he smiles amicably to your face.

Tim’s requests get more and more extreme to keep your attention. Show you that he lacks nothing, and he can go farther than any other masochist you could find. However, you didn't ask him to perform this way. Sure, you may be the dominant here, but your boundaries still matter don’t they? 

“Fine… but this is the last time, Tim,” you say, relenting. You’ll find him nodding, agreeing that of course, of course, just one more time for pity’s sake. That night, he’ll make sure to make the sweetest sounds. His role usually takes and receives, but Tim decides to also give. You can sit and ride his face until you orgasm. In your post-coital glow, you'll lie sandwiched to each other, breathless. He'll have your fingers trail on his skin and trace the bruises and the pretty pink welts you've left.

He'll whisper his agenda in your ear. You've always been easier to convince after loosening up. Okay, so maybe he was more hardcore than usual tonight, but you liked it, too. Why ruin a good thing? What could anyone give you that Tim can't? Maybe you really don't need to find someone else.

And most importantly, Tim will make it seem like you arrived at that conclusion entirely by yourself.

#yandere batfam #yandere tim drake x reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake #yandere tim drake #queue #tw nsft #mine

[fluffy-anna]

Tim Drake aka Red Robin wallpaper

I relate to tim in ways I have not related to religion

As the poll results asked, here we go

My favorite cynic and bi disaster and the epitome of sleep deprived middle child

@arrowheadedbitch

Here you go 🩷🩷🩷

#dcu #fanfic #dca fandom #dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake fluff #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake angst #tim drake fic #tim drake headcanon #tim drake x male reader #tim drake x you #incorrect batfamily quotes #batfamily #red robin fluff #red robin x reader #red robin #bi disaster #cynical #tim drake smut #red robin wallpaper #dc x reader #tim drake wallpaper

[starboyjun]

Batfam x reader based on Manwha isekai, reaction to reader being a saintess with powers

hihi im back lol !!

bruce wayne

i think bruce wouldn't be too shocked because bruce knows everything. he would be pretty protective over you since your powers can be taken advantage of easily. he would also try to limit your power usage, because he has a lot of enemies. he would also refuse your healing powers if you have any.

dick grayson

he would be fascinated by your powers, he has a lot of super-powered friends so he would ask a lot of questions. he would try to find more information about your powers to take care of you better. he wouldn't -like bruce- let you use your powers on him if you had healing powers.

jason todd

jason wouldn't like your powers at first. he would be wary but protective, kinda tsundere. i feel like he thinks he's abandoned by god so he doesn't really like anything to do with god. he also refuses your service of powers.

tim drake

i feel like he's like dick a lor, researching and asking questions about your powers. i don't really have much to say about him, hes just a curious little bean.

damian wayne

hes a little bruce, he is protective and he doesn't want you to use your powers on him, personally i feel like he thinks he's unworthy of being healed or protected by a saintess because he killed a lot or something.

alfred pennyworth

i feel like alfred is a catholic... is that canon? he would respect you like everyone else and ask you a lot of questions. he would treat you well.

#isekai manhwa #manhwa x reader #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #batfam x reader

[prismuffin]

Some context: So part of being a part of the batfam comes with hiding emotions or masking reactions and feelings. (Cause like, you don't want someone like Joker to know you're scared or anxious).

what if the bat boys (Dick, Jason, and Tim) got hit with a spell or power on a mission that gave them animal ears and a tail. (You can decide the animals, no matter what a animals ears and tail are the biggest things that you look at to tell how the animal is feeling. Because of their movement not being a forced one, but happens naturally like breathing).

So, how would the batboys (separately) react to notice that their tails and ears aggressively give away that they have romantic feelings towards Male Reader?

Ex: Dick having German shepherd ears and tail, and every time Dick sees Reader. His tail is wagging and his ears are perked.

I feel like this would be so much chaos for them, to suddenly have something attached to them that gives away what their feeling. Cause they haven't trained to mask it yet.

Alright lemme know how I did with this kay? I think that-

Jason would have come home from a mission after being hit with a spell that gave him fox attributes. While Bruce asked Zatanna about a counter-spell Jason was stuck with the short end of the stick. It really only changed his physical form so it shouldn't be too damaging. When it comes to you I think Jason would be the type to try and ignore the fact that his feelings are so on display. When he hears your voice his ears perk up suddenly and his wagging tail swishes through the air, but he's gonna keep that same stoic look on his face. His arms are crossed and his eyebrows are furrowed and it just completely contradicts the way his tail is wagging so fast. If you comment on it he'll immediately shut you down by asking what the hell you're talking about. You tease him about it and it definitely annoys him that this is the way you recognize his feelings for you. Dick did not expect to be coming home from his previous mission with dog ears and tail but hey, life just be like that sometimes. He doesn't know what he expected to come from this spell but it definitely wasn't this. It was sort of difficult when you'd walked into the room and he'd gotten visibly excited even though he was trying to play it cool with a smirk on his face, his dumb ass tail wouldn't stop wagging. When you comment on it he gets super embarrassed especially when you hit him with the "happy to see me?" Yup he's done, he's hiding from you until Bruce can find some sort of counter-spell or something because he can't stand the thought of rejection from you. You find it cute though. Tim would seem pretty unfazed but deep down he's so embarrassed about the whole thing. He gets hit with one little spell and suddenly he has a cat's tail and even the ears to match. At least he's not meowing though. The whole thing becomes even more embarrassing when you show up and suddenly his tail won't stop swishing, though it's more from the nerves than anything. He's blushing a lot and when you comment on it and just sort of brushes it off but the whole thing really clicks for you after this entire event. He was always sort of stuttery around you but with the way his tail seemed to impulsively react to your presence pretty much confirmed your suspicions.

———

Directory

#prismuffin #x male reader #male reader #x reader #prisask #dc imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x male reader #tim drake x reader #batboys x male reader #batboys imagine #batboys x reader #batboys #batbros #dc x male reader #dc fanfiction #dc universe x male reader #dc universe imagine #redhood x reader #redhood x male reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing x male reader #robin x reader #robin x male reader

[idyllcy]

this is a drama. i am the drama.

word count: 10.4k

WARNINGS: mentions of SA, mentions of sex trafficking, mild violence (all r kinda glossed over but still warning), Nonexplicit smut

summary: your soul drowns Tim, but he finds comfort in it.

The city of Gotham is not phased by much.

From the drug trafficking in the docks to the human trafficking happening under everyone's nose, the average citizen doesn't really care. Though, arguably, they do mind when their sleep is disturbed by the sound of racing cars— something else that isn't necessarily new in Gotham. However, there had been news that the racers were steering off into the city at night, so Tim finds himself in civilian clothes, holding up a pass to access the venue that the racers were using, stepping in past the loud noises and people screaming. Ah, he made it in time.

He's surprised to find actual racing cars— cars that look like they could be in a grand prix.

From the seats, he meets eyes with a racer. He can't tell anything, but from posture and body frame, a woman. Now that he looks at it, all the racers seem to be female-presenting. He turns down the drink offered by one of the men, striking up a conversation instead, batting his lashes at the man, hoping to seduce him in some way. He wore too much clothing to be able to do so with his body, but it was still worth a shot. He hates dressing up like this anyway.

"So, what's a goody two shoes like you doing here?" The man smiles, sliding an arm around his shoulder.

"A friend gave me his pass because I said I'd never watched a Gotham street race." He bats his lashes. (Hopefully the fake lashes Stephanie glued don't fall off. God, did he hate dressing as Caroline)

"Really? Usually we place our bets on a racer." He hums, waving a guy over, dropping a twenty in a box. "I'd recommend you vote for Spitfire, she's an oldie and usually wins."

"Who are the others?" Tim slips a twenty from the back of his phone, blinking at the other names.

The man chuckles. "Lightwing is another good contender. She's been around forever. But also, her vision is spotty from an accident last time, so she's not as popular as before."

Tim nods slowly, staring at the other two names. "Who's Moonknight and Aquastar?"

"Moonknight is making her debut tonight, but her test run streaks were pretty bad because she doesn't have as big of a team as the rest of them." The man waves his hand. "You don't need to bet on her, pretty girl." He grins toothily. "Oh, and Aquastar is a visiting racer from a nearby city. We usually have more racers, but Cardinal got suspended for going off the race tracks and breaking into Gotham two weeks ago."

Now that he thinks about it, all of the names were practically knockoffs of the vigilantes and heroes who protected the cities. Although, he's surprised the street racing had ended up this big without any of the bats shutting it down. Someone must have a hand somewhere. He just wonders if it's Hood or B. It could be neither for all he knows.

"How does one race?" Tim blinks at one car in particular. It looks too much like a batmobile for comfort.

"You'd have to talk to the racers for that."

"Ey, Chris, are you hitting on newbies again?" A woman walks up the stairs, shoving him to the side playfully, tilting her head at Tim.

"Oh, come on, Spitty. You know I only do that so I can collect profits when you win."

"Arguably," She tilts her head at Tim, pausing. "You should bet on Moonknight."

"A-ah?"

"If she wins," Spitfire smiles, "then you collect all the profits. It's only a twenty, after all."

Tim frowns.

"But there's also a tradition for newbies to bet on newbies." She laughs. "You never know. That girl's got more speed in her than Cardinal. She just refuses to tell people."

"What's the cash prize?" Tim raises a brow.

"Driver gets ten percent of the bet money on top of the two million that WE pours into the track." She pauses.

"WE pours money into this?"

"We're not sure why, but they have been for a while now. The whole race track was from them." Spitfire sighs. "It's an old story, so it's not that surprising anymore."

Tim glances at the car again, pausing. Ah. This was where Bruce tested out his batmobile by using other people. No wonder he didn't push anyone to check the driving out. If Bruce was testing out all of his vehicles here, then there was no way he'd want it to be shut down. It would explain why he handed him an access card without having him get one. Tim glances around to look for seating, and Spitfire notices.

"You wanna sit in the grandstands?" She smiles. "My treat."

"Really?" Tim puts the money into Moonknight's box. The woman was right. It's only a twenty. Worst case, he loses the money. Though, he wonders what kind of a racer would have a leading champion telling him to vote for her. "Oh, is there a reason all the racers are girl?"

"We tried co-ed racing for a while." Spitfire holds her hand out for Tim, and he takes it. "But the men would get too aggressive and lead to unnecessary accidents on the track. Our goal is to test out cars for our sponsors before they're taken onto the field."

"Is that why there's a pass to get in?"

"Yeah." She hums, pulling the door open. "Come on in."

"Spitfire, favoring a newbie?!"

"Spitfire, who do you think is going to win!"

The woman turns her head, smile on her lips. "Me, obviously."

But it proves wrong when Tim meets eyes with the same woman from the first time.

You stare into his eyes, white racing suit snug on your body, a look in your eyes he recognizes. Though, the longer you look at him, the more you seem to read him— as if his entire past were exposed in front of you at a table. There is a sort of darkness to both your eyes and hair, the stare of a thousand souls. He breaks eye contact first, waving goodbye to Spitfire as she hops back to her position, final checkups of the cars in progress as Chris asks him if he wants a drink. Tim waves him down, but he mentions a can of Zesti would be fine. Chris barely makes it back in time for the announcements.

Tim catalogs the majority of the announcements in, checking for their voice on his phone, blinking when he finds a lack of match for it. He'd ask Chris, but the man is practically leaning over on the stand, eyes glittering as the cars prepare to race. He stands up, cracking open his soda, blinking when the four racers seem to fly off, and his eyes glance at the big screen, camera flying after the cars.

Moonknight goes from second to third, and Spitfire goes from third to first. He doesn't have much faith in his twenty bucks, but he wonders if the batmobile would really be helpful in a race like this. It didn't—

Moonknight goes from third to first at the final moment, boosting past Spitfire and racing to first place as she makes it into the second lap. Tim pauses while recalling the batmobile, and he remembers the change he had made just a week ago on the car, letting it accelerate faster than the other cars. Seeing his own creation in action hits something in him, blinking as she swerves.

"Oh, I might actually lose my money today." Chris laughs. "I didn't think she'd be able to do it."

"Who is Moonknight?"

"She's a completely new racer. She's called Moonknight because he sponsor gave her a car that looks eerily like a batmobile every time. Though, her car is in light grey." Chris points. "I'll hand you the pamphlet later."

"Thank you." Tim mumbles, watching as Spitfire races neck to neck with Moonknight. Tim wonders if it's going to be a tie. Though, he did add something else to the car. Maybe Bruce told you, maybe not. If she manages to find it, she could win. Though, he's more curious to know if rocket boosters were technically allowed in a race like this. Who knows.

You grimace in the car, pressing a couple of buttons as your fingers brush over something new. You wonder if it's the self-destruction button that Batman had told you not to touch. Yet, you shrug it off, clicking it anyway, slamming back into your seat as you speed past Spitfire, breaking past the finish line, steering with one hand as you try and stop the rockets on your car, clicking on the screen, grimacing. You'd rather not call Oracle. Last time you did, she tried pulling your social security number on you, only to find a lack of one.

Your heart races in your chest as you press the button again, the rockets only growing stronger, and you groan as you type in a code you had memorized from the Batcave, successfully shutting down the systems on the car, turning it back into a regular vehicle. You don't know who invented that line of code, but god were you thankful that you memorized it. The car eventually slows, and you drift next to the other racers, parking successfully. You step out of the car, leaning on the door as it closes, the blood in your body flushing your skin.

"Moon, are you alright?" Spitfire rushes next to you, hand on your bicep.

"I'm fine." You pull the helmet from your head, meeting eyes with Tim's again. You raise a brow, and you lower your voice to Spitfire. "That girl isn't a girl."

"Drag maybe?"

"No." You mumble, turning to shield your mouth from his eyes. "Undercover cop. Either that or they're a vigilante. They used Batman's card to get in."

"Ah." She frowns. "Are we safe?"

"I'll deal with it if he throws a fit." You stretch your neck, placing your helmet onto the top of your car. "Gotta submit a report later."

"I'm not looking forward to that." Lightwing groans. "Our next race is supposed to be motorbikes."

"Ewwww." Spitfire shudders. "I hate racing those."

"I hope they don't have rocket boosters like on my car today." You shudder.

"Alright, go get your cash prize, girlie." Spitfire smacks your back to send you walking to the podium.

You step over to the makeshift stage, taking the cheque from the announcer, blowing a kiss at the phones as you stare at the blank cheque. Two million was the max, but you were told you'd get to cash out five if you could win the race. You pause, though, when the girl you were staring at earlier makes her way out of the stands and walks over. Spitfire tries stopping her, but she seems to say something that has her quiet as she steps up the podium to meet you. You tilt your head at her.

Tim opens his mouth to speak before you cut him off.

"You know." You pause to wave the announcer off, hooking your arms under her knees to rest your chin on her chest. "You're real hot as a woman, but I'm sure you'd look better as a man."

Tim flushes as you press a kiss to the crown of his head, and you set him on the podium, lips pulled into a pretty smile. Your voice lowers as you rest your chin in the valley of his tits, blinking up at him. You jut out your bottom lip as Tim swallows thickly. Your fingers lace into his hair, nails digging into his scalp gently, blinking slowly, reading his emotions, his expressions, his everything. You look entranced, and Tim almost feels bad that he's here undercover and you're staring starry-eyed over someone who doesn't exist.

"What's your name, pretty girl?" You raise a brow at her, grinning.

"Caroline." He swallows again, heart racing in his chest. You're too attractive for your own good. Maybe you were using that against him. "Caroline Hill."

"Well, Carrie," You hum, tucking his hair behind his ear. "I think you're gorgeous. Care for a drink sometime?"

"A-as much as I would like to, I'm not into w-women." He stumbles. (A bold lie. He's never had a worse panic over a woman in his life.)

"Quite a shame." You mumble. "You're so pretty too..."

You step down the stage, holding the cheque up as the girls cheer with you.

Tim should really talk to Bruce about what the batmobile was doing in a street racing event.

Though, as Tim tries to run a background check on you, he finds nothing come up. Even in the private files of the batcomputer. Even on the card that gave him access, all the fingerprints were wiped clean. He finds practically nothing, not that it gets to him, he just looks harder. He practically lives in the cave now. He doesn't remember the last day he got regular sleep. He has nothing on you.

So, he shows up at the next race as himself this time. He enters with the same card, and this time, you find him first.

"So? You related to B?" You hand him a can of unopened zesti, and he raises a brow at you. You raise a brow back at him, pointing at his card. "Card. That's a B exclusive card."

"How so?"

"Sponsor card." You smile. "Since it's light grey, that means it's my sponsor. My sponsor is B."

Tim frowns. "Who are you?"

"My question first."

"He's an aquaintance. Now my question." He opens his can, pressing the drink to his lips.

"I'm a racer." You smile.

"I meant as a person." He clicks his tongue.

"Why don't you find out?" You bat your lashes at him prettily, hand pressed to his abdomen, leaning in to blink at him devilishly. "Or are you not into women too?"

Tim's heart races in his ears, swallowing as he tries his best to match your pace. "What does the media say?"

"Lots" You grin, pressing yourself closer to him, arms wrapped around his neck, your air mixed with his, lips pulled into a dangerous smirk. "But all I hear these days is how someone keeps trying to hack my personal information."

"Yeah?" He tilts his head, placing the can to the side.

"Mhm." You hum.

Tim smiles at you, dangerously, all while his mind is a jumbled mess. You had an effect on him that he dared not to pry further into, but god were you intoxicating — bad for his brain even. He finds himself leaning closer to you, all systems going off about how this was bad for him, but he doesn't care. Not when your perfume smells tantalizing and the only thing he wants to do is kiss you sick— make out with you until you're whimpering against his lips, knees giving out under you, and brain fuzzy with only him. His eyes darken with the thoughts, a smile on his face.

You remove your arms from him, tapping his shoulder twice with an innocent smile. "Thanks for giving me the last piece."

Tim raises a brow as you peel yourself from him, his mask in your fingers, smile not so pure anymore.

There was no way.

Tim grabs it back from you as you back up, both hands in the air, and as he shoves it into somewhere you can't touch, you hop over the stands, landing on the dirt with a thud. Tim frowns in frustration as you send a wink his way, starting final check-ups for the race. It's bikes today, and Tim recognizes all of the models. A copy of his own bike is in Spitfire's hand right now. Maybe this was how Bruce figured out whether or not his bike was safe to ride after his own customizations. Jason's bike is in another rider's hands, red helmet with black— presumably Cardinal, and Dick's bike is in Lightwing's hands. You have Bruce's bike still. It checks out now.

This was the testing ground for the vigilante vehicles in Gotham.

The fact that you had figured him out so quickly only meant that you had realized faster than everyone else.

But there had to be a reason that no one part of the team saw the similarities between their vehicles and the ones that the Gotham vigilantes used. There had to be a reason that only you would be crazy enough to figure it out just based on vehicle models. Maybe he could use the status card to talk to you all for a little. Too bad you were already checking the vehicle. He should have asked earlier— strange. It's not like him to be this disoriented.

You win the race.

It's obvious. B's bike was designed with the fastest engine possible, and in a race of pure speed, it would win. No matter how much Tim tinkered with his bike, he wasn't allowed to go faster than Bruce. The man had said it was too dangerous, and Tim could see why. The Batbike was a nightmare to steer at such high speeds. Though, he does wonder where everyone on the track gets their practice. There's never a peak of sound during the day on the track, and neither was there much noise at night when you weren't racing.

Tim does not dig the idea that he has to pull his money card out, but the more competitive part of him does wonder what it would look like to have you fold for him.

"A drink?" He leans over the railing, card held up, raising a brow at you.

You wave him off, handing your helmet to someone else, clicking your tongue.

"That's not the way to ask a pretty woman out on a date, boy." You raise a brow, lips pulled upwards in a grin. "Maybe ask better next time. Some of us have black cards too."

So Tim watches as you leave with the rest of the racers, his heart racing in his chest.

It takes ten more tries for Tim to trace from someone else to you.

He blinks at the woman on the screen, and he pauses to ponder. Perhaps.

However, all of his thoughts are thrown off when a command is called from behind him by Bruce with a new case. A file is handed to him, a file with a rather unoriginal name, and it makes Tim raise a brow. Surely it was a jest.

"I assure you, they are very much real." Bruce rolls his eyes, cowl peeled off, humming with a drink pressed to his lips.

"Is this related to the serial murder of rapists going around in Gotham?" He opens the file.

"Not just Gotham." Bruce hums. "Clark did a report on the serial murder of both registered and unregistered sex offenders in Metropolis as well. It has been a trend. Despite the vigilantism, it is still very much illegal to kill someone."

"I don't see too much of a problem with killing a rapist." Tim presses his coffee to his lips, scanning through the files Bruce hands him. The target seems rather clear. The killer does not regard anyone in the way, knocking everyone out and always only killing the rapist. A maneater. The name given to the murderer was maneater, as if it were some ploy. In some cases, the victims were found with their pants unzipped and an anti-rape condom stuck on them, writhing in pain as they were almost always found dead with poison in their system.

Those who suffered more gruesome deaths... either found castrated with their genitals lying not too far away, or a hole where their heart was supposed to be, the organ missing. It reminds him almost of Heartless, but... that is not the case. This is a vigilante no different from them... just less sparing and guaranteed murder. Now, does Tim solve the case or let the vigilante free...

He does not know what possesses him to ask you of all people, but your response does not help much.

"Moonknight." Tim hums, adjusting his glasses as he puts them on. "May I pick at your brain?"

"Is this about the serial murders?" You wipe the helmet in your hand, cheque tucked safely into your wallet.

Tim nods. "Thoughts?"

"I feel like the murderer's doing us ladies a favor." You shrug. "Think about it."

"I know, but murder is a little..."

"Little hypocritical of you, you know?" You raise a brow. "Must I name your war crimes?"

"No." Tim hums. "Perhaps I should do some digging anyway."

"Wouldn't hurt to have it on file in case you do need it one day." You eye one of the newer men on the track, grinning at Spitfire as she greets him. "Hm?"

Tim's eyes trail up to Spitfire.

Similar build. His glasses indicate the same.

"It's not any of my girls." You crack open the can of soder. "I promise they're clean. B runs background checks on all of us."

Tim mulls over your words.

Scary.

Yet, he visits you anyway, money piling in his back pocket as you win round after round, small talk rolling off your lips in a sort of practiced way, smile inviting as you turn down his request to grab a drink again, humming quietly as Tim's eyes trail down to the small of your back, brow raised as he notices your shorts peeking out past your pants.

"What does it take for a date with you?"

"Maybe not being part of law enforcement." You hum. "Legal or not."

"Why? Worried I'll turn you in?"

"No..." You trail off, chewing your top lip as you turn your head at Lightwing. "Well, if you save Lightwing from some trouble, I'll consider."

"What's wrong?"

"You see the man talking to her?"

Tim raises a brow and spots another group of men not too far off. "Bingo."

You wink in her direction, and Tim hums.

"Hey big fella. Having fun so far?"

You watch as Tim tears the man apart, Lightwing leaving at one point to stand next to you.

"Really, I don't know what you see in that man."

"Not much." You purse your lips, smiling. "Something tells me he's the one."

"I'm willing to bet that he is not." She mumbles.

Yet, as Tim barely lifts a finger to piss the man off, you grin.

"Oh, he's definitely the one."

Tim runs the information, stalking down the final member of your racing team, matching the majority of information to the final member, brow raised when he realizes that Cardinal was not part of B's files either, hunting the woman down as he searches for her current location, and it makes Tim's stomach churn uncomfortably when he realizes how eerily similar the racer is to the described criminal. The person who was dubbed Cardinal had been face-matched to someone who had entered Metropolis just a little bit before the serial murders. It made Tim nauseous.

"Got any leads?"

"Might be one of the previous racers." Tim grimaces. "Of the race tracks."

"Cardinal? I assure you it is not her."

"Really? There had been rumors—"

"It is not." Bruce mumbles. "You know who Cardinal is. It is not her. They may have similar builds, but it is not her."

"Who is Cardinal?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough."

Bruce's evasion of his question does not help the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

You end up with Tim on the date, hair ruffled as he picks you up in his bike, hand held out to you as you take it, humming. It's supposed to be simple. Though, you suppose simple for a Wayne is impossible to determine. You never know what to expect from him. Though, when he pulls you to the local diner, you find it impossible to not know he's the one. It's really too simple.

"Would you tell me about Cardinal?" Tim finally asks you proper questions once the two of you finish ordering.

"Do you think she's the one?" You raise a brow.

"You said your girls are innocent."

"The ones I currently race with." You hum, reaching for the bread on the table.

"And Cardinal?"

"I don't know much about her. She didn't talk much."

"But she was aggressive, no?"

"No." You hum. "She drove into Gotham because she saw something. She also raced her own bike. No one knows who she is."

Tim connects something in his mind, and it sends him back to step one.

"Would you be able to help if I gave you the file?"

"Isn't it just what's available online?"

"One final thing. The killer in Metropolis might be the same person." Tim mumbles. "Thank you."

The food is presented before the two of you, and you stab into your pasta. "I don't think so. Did you track anyone else that entered and exited Metropolis that was a Gothamite?"

Tim shakes his head. "I find it strange."

"Perhaps magic?"

"Not impossible." Tim mumbles. "What do you do in your free time?"

"Tinker." You hum.

"With your bike?"

"No. That's B's property. I tend to tinker with smaller things. It's always fun to build a PC from scratch."

"Ah, you're quite handy with tech." Tim hums, blowing on his pasta. "Anything else?"

"I like watching detective shows." You pause to think. "And racing. I think that's about it. How 'bout you, boy wonder?"

"That's my brother." He laughs dryly.

Tim finds that it's intriguing to talk to you. You know everything that he does, and it seems you know much more than what you let him in on. Dare he say it, perhaps he's met his match.

Tim sends you home and starts patrol. Gotham had become eerily quiet since the murderer had been on the loose.

Though, he has a knack for saying things too early.

A man dies the same day, and B finds his way there with Tim, the two of them sweeping down and kicking the man down, a woman shaking as Tim shields her, holding his cape out, making sure to not look at the way her clothes are ripped up and she's shaking with an intensity unknown to him. He can feel the vibrations of her skin through his cape. The fear is easily contagious had he not known.

"B?"

"Dead. The poison spread too fast."

The woman doesn't look like she was aware.

"Did you buy the product?" Tim raises a brow, eyes scanning her face for any changes in emotion, and she shakes her head.

"I... a-a friend got me o-one on because—" She gasps, shoulders trembling still. "I-it saved her life."

"Do you know where she bought it?"

The woman shakes her head. "Th-they were giving them out on the streets a while back. It's been m-months."

"May we take one back?"

B shakes his head. "Gordon is coming. We will decide then. Oracle?"

Oracle has no intel either, and Tim wonders just how far this murderer is willing to go. If he just let them kill all the rapists in Gotham, then it would result in a number of the population as gone. If he checked them, perhaps the offenders in Gotham would assume they are protected by B — which truly could not be further from the truth.

"Where are you living? I will take you back." Tim catches a figure in the corner of his eye.

"B."

The man shakes his head.

"I-I'll be fine." She mumbles. "May I borrow a... clothes?"

B nods, and Tim hands the woman to him as he takes a good look at the man on the ground.

Familiar. He looks familiar.

The scan from his mask indicates the same. The man who had been talking to Spitfire at the tracks. It was the man who had been talking to her. Some clicks in the back of Tim's mind, his fingers pressing to the silicone, pressing the dirt and grime to the back of his glove to check for DNA.

Just the shaking woman.

"B, I need one of them." He speaks firmer this time. "There has to be some unidentified DNA on one of them."

"There are in one of the files on our computer. It was sent this afternoon." B hums. "The police are arriving. Come on."

Tim doesn't need to be told twice, yet he lingers, eyes trailing on the woman as he waits.

One of the policemen is an unregistered sex offender.

He clicks on his mask as he zooms in, a dark figure flying out of the alleyway at the man, and Tim watches as a claw digs into the man's genitals, ripping off with a sound that shakes the walls, followed by a guttural scream. The policemen shoot at the figure, but they don't react, only retreating back into the walls, seemingly unhurt by the bullets.

"Oracle, did you catch that?"

"No face was detected."

"How about figure?"

"Non-human." Oracle mumbles. "I can't identify anything."

"Tsk." Tim clicks his tongue.

"Though, it has to be a shadow ability. Perhaps something adjacent to it. They're gone, right?"

Tim hums into the mic. "Affirmative."

Tim ignores the way the shadow shapes weirdly underneath his feet.

"You can come out." He taps the corner of his mask for reinforcements, taking a step back into the moon as the shadow forms, a smile of white forming into a human.

"Can you—"

"Neither. All indications of sex are missing."

"Oh..."

Their voice is nothing short of horrifying to him.

"I caught a bird." It grins, and as Tim takes a step back, he finds that his other foot has a shadow warping around his ankle.

"Who are you?"

"We are the night." It sings. "We are the darkness..."

Tim knows what's next.

"We are... vengeance."

"That's rather cringe, don't ya think?" Tim raises a brow.

A batarang flies from behind him, and the shadows only create a hole for the weapon to fly through. The shadow splits into two people, and Tim smiles.

"Gotcha."

"Ah ah," The one on the left shakes its hand. "We were promised... freedom."

"Only where you belong." Batman shines a flashlight at the creature, and Tim watches as it retreats back into the shadows, his ankle free. "And you. Next time, just shine the flashlight."

"Are they weak?" Tim raises a brow. "Just to light?"

"It stuns." Batman nods.

"Go track the leftovers on your ankle back in the cave."

"Will do." Tim pauses before he goes. "Is it an alien?"

"No. Something worse."

Tim does NOT know what could be worse than an alien. (He lies. He does.)

The DNA tracks too many women to count. One shows up and then the next, and eventually, Tim has at least twenty women pulled up on his screen, all pronounced dead after being found used and discarded. It is horrifying. Tim may not understand just how terrifying it is to be a woman, but as he finds children, he seems to understand just how disgusting this is. Girl after girl, woman after woman, every last one of them were used and discarded bare for the world to see, photographed and made a case study out of — all who met their unfortunate end and their rapists never see the end of their life the same way they did.

It is disgusting, but something else is discovered.

He does not remember if it is something new, but it seems strange. It is not a shadow, but rather a composition of human souls forced to merge into an unrecognizable shape. It is science, not an alien, and Tim understands why it is worse. It is an unfortunate victim and not an alien. It is someone who had been forced to change into something unloveable. He wonders if the souls of the unfortunate make up the shadows.

Ah. If they are shadows...

Tim turns around as the shadows form a human again, shorter than he is, apple of its cheeks soft and gentle. A girl. It is a girl this time; not a woman.

"Are you a victim?"

It does not answer him.

"Tim? Tim, do you hear me? Red!"

"It has not attacked yet." Tim answers. "How many of you are there?"

The child does not respond, holding up one finger, and then two, and three, and eventually there are too many fingers sticking out of the hand that Tim had lost count.

"Many."

"What's the deal?"

"I matched the DNA." Tim swallows. "I won't hurt you, but please—"

The shadow dissolves, and Tim lets out a breath, staring at the faces plastered across the screen of the Batcave.

"Tim?"

"Oracle." His voice goes quiet. "They are all victims of... The computer just keeps going."

Eventually, B returns, staring at the wall of faces Tim left, finding the man in his room, glasses on as he stares at his PC, case file after case file being read, news article after news article. There is more than one soul occupying the shadows, and Tim reads one after the other of how they were murdered. Stabbed, strangled, shot, mangled, burned. None of the souls were able to escape death at the hands of their rapist. It was sickening.

"It is not a human." Tim speaks, staring at Bruce at the door. "We can not arrest it."

"Is it humanoid?"

"No. It is a shadow of vengeance."

"There has to be a way to stop it from collecting more souls."

Tim closes his eyes, brows furrowed as he sighs.

"And if I do not want to?"

"Tim."

"I know." He mumbles, exhaustion written all over his face. "How will we destroy the remaining souls?"

"How many women were identified?"

"There are currently twenty seven." Tim mumbles. "There may be even less if more of the men die."

"The vengeance of a ghost." Bruce mumbles. "Just find a way to stop the addition of souls. Surely, someone is collecting souls and adding them."

Tim finally closes his eyes when the sun starts peeking over the horizon.

"Sorry." Tim shows up to your meetup place, eyebags extra bad, and you raise a brow at him.

"Something up?"

"What would you do if someone was collecting the souls of the victims of rape and kill and turning them into a shadow of some sort to let them have vengeance on their rapist?"

"Wow, what a loaded question." You mumble.

"Thoughts?" Tim closes his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Feel free to ignore it if not—"

"I mean... it makes sense." You hum. "Is it scientifically immoral? Yes. Is it in some way morally correct? Perhaps. Their lives were taken and their souls haunt the earth because they are still held down by things they could not resolve while they were alive. Perhaps to the living, they are a monster, but to the dead? to the dead, they are a savior."

Tim pauses to think. "Should the person be punished?"

"Under the law? Sure."

"How about according to yourself?"

"No." You mumble. "If I was raped like that, I would love to ruin the life of the man who ruined mine. I heard a police officer got his dick ripped off. Is he still alive?"

"Alive." Tim nods. "Vitals are stable, but he can no longer procreate... obviously."

"Deserved, maybe. I heard he got off with only two months of jail time after the initial trial."

Tim does not answer, pausing to mull over the case.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." You stand up, stretching your legs. "Shall we get something to eat?"

"You have food by here?"

"No, but since you brought your bike, I can take us somewhere."

"It better not be the diner from last time."

It is NOT the diner from last time

Instead, Tim finds himself seated outside of a Batburger place, thanking you as you hand him his order, clear view of the alleyway.

"This place is a little..."

"It's where a lot of drug trades happen." You hum, staring at the alleyway behind him. "Also where a lot of sex trafficking occurs."

"Ah, right." He mumbles. "Red Hood manages that, no?"

"Not as much." You bite into the burger, humming happily. "Sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting."

"I think the burgers and shake could fix me."

You raise a brow.

"As much as it can try, of course."

"Nah, I have those days too." You hum. "Did you find much on the souls?"

"I just wonder if they are decreasing after extracting revenge on their former rapist." Tim mumbles.

"I heard somewhere they started off in the fifties." You hum, continuing with your burger.

"...fifties? Where did you even hear that?"

"Rumor gets around quickest at the racetrack." You mumble. "Cardinal kept closely with the news. Apparently the figure was as large as a human at one point."

"Is twenty souls not enough to form a full grown woman?"

"Perhaps it picks a child for other reasons." You reach for a fry. "Am I being of much help, mister detective?"

"Somewhat." Tim pauses when he hears rustling behind him. "...May I?"

"Careful, they carry stun guns."

Tim nods, leaving you alone, and you click on your phone as you watch Red Robin swing in, kicking and freeing the poor girl, handing her off to the police as you stare at the two men knocked out. Tim had overestimated just one thing.

From behind, a spike of darkness pieces through the men's hearts, killing them on the spot as Tim holds a hand over the eyes of the woman.

Dead. The two men are dead.

The shadow forms behind them, three young women who look no older than the one that Tim is covering the eyes of.

"How many of you are left?"

This time, the shadow forms a 24.

The number is going down.

So, Tim reports the findings to Bruce, changing out of his suit to get back to you, nodding as he sits down and sighs.

"Sorry, stomach died."

"Nah, don't worry about it." You sip on your shake, humming. "Duty calls."

"Are you racing sometime soon?"

"I think B's trying to have us race less lately." You hum. "I won't be racing for some time. The only reason we raced so often a while back was because there were so many upgrades being implemented."

"So you have more free time?"

"Yeah." You hum. "I was thinking of traveling."

"Where to?"

Tim knows something you don't. The gentle taps of your painted nails omit some eerie sense of death, and it seems that no matter how much Tim likes you and feels fine around you, it is impossible to ignore that eerie sense of death. It reminds him of the first time he met you, stare of a thousand souls. Yet, it seems that...

"Staring?"

"You're rather pretty." He hums, pressing his napkin to his cheeks. "Is it not normal to stare a little?"

"Oh, look at you and your smooth words." You hum.

"I mean them." Tim stares at you.

You only give him a weak look.

You don't seem to believe Tim when he says you're everything.

And maybe at some point in time, Tim had realized that your words swayed him harder than they need to. He does not know when he had ended up so deep with his fingers and hands stained with a passion for you, but as it drags him under, he finds that it's fine. Maybe you were just destined for him in some way. If he would be dragged under, then he would simply find a way to clear it out. He enjoys the sensation of drowning in you. Maybe he is just weak for you.

"Do you love me?" You tilt your head, milkshake straw on your lips as Tim sorts through his files.

Tim stares at you, pushing his glasses up. "Why?"

"Curious." You hum. "You've brought me to your place, after all. Isn't this the nice little boat you got with your boyfriend? I remember the media going insane."

"Perhaps." Tim mumbles. "I brought you here to help me with the case, though. I don't think love is the right word for what we feel towards each other right now."

"Mm." You nod slowly, picking up some papers. "The number went down?"

"Yes. The two men who were killed resulted in three less entities in the shadow." Tim mumbles. "I just wonder if the number is going to increase."

"You wouldn't want it to, huh?" You hum.

"Prefferably no." Tim pauses. "Though, I suppose if the entity is acting on its own, then I can not do much to stop it. Someone is letting the souls merge into the shadows."

"If it's just cells, shouldn't it be the act of a human? That must mean they have some sort of way of accessing the victims' bodies."

"That would be the case, but a further search indicated that they were not picking up the cells, but rather just souls. I don't know when we got an upgrade to be able to locate souls, but—"

"It was probably when you tried cloning your best friend." You don't bother letting him finish the sentence.

Your statement freaks Tim out.

"H-how the hell do you know?!"

"B." You puff out your cheeks, continuing with reading the file.

B does NOT have that information open to just anyone to access.

Yet, Tim shuts his mouth, continuing with the file, taking the chance to seal your fingerprint. He runs the match while you continue checking, and he ends up in a dead end again. You do not exist in the database. Your fingerprint is not a real person. Surely there was a chance that you were not quite human either.

"Just how cautious are you?"

"Very." You hum. "My fingerprint won't show up."

"What gives you the boldness to say that?"

"A gamble." You hum. "I race for B. Surely, he would not do something as cruel as that."

"He is consistently paranoid."

"That does not matter." You click your tongue. "He could not hold me down if he tried."

Tim senses that there is a certain level of untruth to your words, but he can not say just what it is.

Three days later, four more men are found dead by the docks. Tim checks them with the police, Oracle's voice in his ear as he observes them. All three have had their hearts pierced through, a gaping hole left behind. Tim looks to the side at the shadows brewing beneath the water, and he observes that the number shown is four less than before.

"These men have to be part of an organization."

"They are." Oracle notes. "Human trafficking. These are the men who are part of a human trafficking specifically for sex workers."

"So... rapists."

"Yes."

"Did we ever get a number on them?"

"No."

Tim nods at the police as they arrive, grappling away.

Maybe he's committing a sin by letting the shadow get away with the murders. It would be impossible to hold them down, but he wonders if he should ever shine a light on them when they kill.

Back at the cave, the young girl emerges again, smiling at Tim as he raises a brow.

"What?"

"Twenty." The voice speaks, much younger this time.

"Are you all children?"

The widening of the smile indicates a yes.

"How old were you?" He holds his hand out for the shadow.

His question goes ignored, the shadow disappearing as B returns to the cave.

"The number of shadows decreased again." Tim stares at B as he undresses.

"How do you know the shadows aren't lying?"

"Here." Tim shows B the newest scan of the souls, and the number has shrunk.

"How did you scan it?"

"I do not know. We hadn't been able to scan based on soul previously."

Bruce clicks on the computer, eyes focusing on the application, taking over as Tim sits to the side. He looks further, digging into the code as he pauses and points at a line.

"Moonknight."

"The racer?"

Bruce reads the code, and Tim follows, pausing.

"She's a computer system?"

"No, but you probably scanned some system in when you ran her through the system the first time."

"Just what is she?"

"I don't ask questions, and neither does she. Just a worker."

"Alright." Tim mumbles. But the issue was you do ask questions. You ask plenty of questions and each one brings you closer than the last. He had already lost his identity to you because of your charm. Perhaps Bruce was not far off. Though, if Tim could not find you, then Bruce probably could not either.

The next time he meets up with you, you finally let him into your apartment.

"Oh, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you love me." Tim hums. "What brings you to invite me here?"

"No, I didn't feel like going out today." You shut the door behind him. "Pizza's on the counter."

"Where are the others?"

"Racing." You hum.

"I thought you said there weren't any races?"

Tim finds that you're a liar.

Somewhere down in the place he's been pulled to, he finds that there is endless amounts of darkness, something brooding behind your soul as you talk to him, smile on your face. You called him the one, but if you were the one, he wouldn't feel so turbulent. Shaking waters. The water he's been pulled under is unmoving and serene, only in the middle of the sea, making the peace eerie rather than soothing. Rather than the liquid moving, he finds that he's spinning further and further down.

"I'm not racing for the time being." You hum. "The others are racing with their own bikes."

"Do you not own one?"

You shake your head. "I prefer other forms of transportation."

Tim raises a brow but doesn't question it.

Even when the two of you are tangled under your sheets and he listens to your heartbeat, the sense of uneasiness doesn't leave. You are too perfect. Even if you were to drag him down with you, he would only know how to hold onto you and not swim. Maybe this is his end. Unless you free him, he fears he will be stuck with you forever. Drawn to the beating of your heart, Tim is stuck being in love with you for the rest of his life. If you would drag him into the depths of your world and ruin his life, then so be it. As long as neither of you cross the line, neither of you would be hurt.

"Would you like to race?"

You raise a brow at Tim.

"Once in a lifetime." He offers.

"On the track?"

"We can race during the day." He hums.

"Not a day person."

"Then at sunrise."

You pause to think about it.

"If that's what you want."

"You make it sound like it's something I want to do." Tim whispers, chin resting on your chest as it rises and falls.

"Is it not?" You run your fingers through his hair, vibrations of your voice making him purr.

When Tim wakes in the morning, Oracle sends him a news article. Ten men found dead at the docks. Ten men were killed, and Tim can only wonder how many of the shadows found peace from their deaths. Though, as your fingers scratch at his scalp again, he could worry about it later. He'd rather not stir up deep waters.

"Ten died?"

"Mhm." Tim closes his eyes, mumbling. "Ten men."

"From the same organization?"

Tim is too tired to consider how you would know all the men are from the same organization when it has not been disclosed to the public.

"You seem to know much more than you let on."

"Of course I do." You hum. "But I won't race you until you find out."

"Then give me a month." He mumbles, eyes closing as he drifts back to sleep. You're warm, and for the first time in a while, he gets some rest.

The next race Tim goes to, he notices Spitfire and Lightwing are missing.

You tilt your head at Tim from the track, waving as he waves back, lips curled upwards in a gentle smile.

He refuses to meet the truth.

There is some sense of security that lies in playing stupid, eyes closed and fingers reaching out into a void of nothingness, knowing that as long as he did not know, he would be safe. Yet, there is always the nagging in the back of his mind, uncertain about his future, uncertain about what would happen if he continued to play dumb. He knows he'll get called out for it by Steph soon, but it really... he was only a fool in love. He can not do something so terrible to his heart.

Even as you bring back the trophy and greet Tim with a thrashing kiss against his lips, breath hot against his as he tries to ignore the truth of the world beneath his feet embedded into the shadows, he knows that he can only play stupid for so long. Soon, this racetrack will become empty, and one day, you too will leave him for the world that he refuses to uncover for his own safety. He loves you, but he can only do so much when he's young and stupid.

"Can I take you back to mine?" Tim whispers, eyes begging quietly as you lick your lips, helmet in your hand as you confirm with a kiss.

The gentle rocking of Tim's place is peaceful in the Gotham waters, port comfortable as he pushes back all of his knowledge. It is a curse to be wise, yet Tim finds that there is nothing he can do when he just refuses to. He would choose you even if it meant laying what he had known before down. It pains him to know that he should not, and you would not let him, but he is foolish and young, eyes gentle as he drinks up the way you lay beneath him, the moon coating you in a lovely white as he furrows his brows to forget about it all.

Your skin is soft against Tim's hands, plush of your waist filling the spaces between his fingers as you stretch your arms above your head, eyes half-lidded as he pleases you — himself. It makes no difference. Turbulent waters have long become the place where he finds his rest, eyes half-lidded as he listens to the way you breathe, both beneath him and in the dead of the night. Life becomes slightly more bearable with you around, exhaustion no longer as suffocating as he's used to. Perhaps he loves you or such. Perhaps he does not. Most certainly, he knows he cares.

In the afterglow of sweat and skin, Tim finds that you are no different from him.

"How many of them are left?"

Tim stares outside the window, recalling the last murder in Gotham.

"They're almost gone."

"That's good."

You close your eyes, lashes brushing Tim's neck as you rest your neck over his arm.

"When will we race?"

"I told you. When you find out."

"Find what, exactly?"

You do not answer, closing your eyes and succumbing to exhaustion instead.

Ultimately, Tim knows.

He knows what he's to look for, and he knows just what you might be. It scares him that you might have lied to him for so long, the shadows and souls lurking beneath the surface of the water finally snaking around his ankle and pulling. The big screen in the Batcave is of no help either, only a single person with an obscured soul, and Tim knows deep down that it is yours. You are a victim of the same organization, an amalgamation of vengeful souls all combined together for the sole purpose of seeking vengeance.

Tim stares at the shadow forming behind him, digits dropping by the day as he reports to Bruce about just what was happening in Gotham. The moral code to prevent murder is strong, but the understanding that a few lives of a few criminals for the cost of a safer Gotham was not a world-ending trade-off. Tim understands that much, at the very least. He knows Bruce does too. In a world where neither of them have to work against human trafficking as hard as previously, Tim finds that the waters are both comforting and vicious. He can not be touched in the warmth of your skin, but others will die from the toxin that he is immune to.

So, as Tim crosses off the final ones in the list of souls, he texts to let you know that the organization has been wiped, asking you which sunrise would work best for you.

You refuse to pick a time during the day because you are afraid of being burnt.

You do not exist in the database because you are not quite human.

You exist because you are someone's hatred and memories, manifesting in the form of the shadows and risking a life you do not have in order to see what is worth living for, vehicles meaning nothing to you as you speed through the racetrack at night, only Aquastar left next to you as she too disappears into the shadows after all the guests leave. There are barely any guests now that Tim looks. Perhaps more than half of them had been tired souls, begging for some sort of help, seeking refuge in the way you would risk your life for some sort of power above the law.

You are home to the souls, regardless of whether they are alive or dead. If someone seeks death, they reach for your arms, holding their hands around your shoulders as you stare past their skin, into the depths of the darkness beyond — something Tim is terrified of touching, Yet, with the feeling of your skin memorized between his fingers, he knows why people go to you to look for something.

You are so living yet so dead.

There is comfort only you can provide.

You meet Tim at the racetrack, sitting on your bike as Tim drives in past the gates. The darkness in your soul has grown lighter. Something has changed from when he first met you. You are still so lovely in his eyes, yet it seems that you can not be together in a case like this. It is a shame. At least he gets to race you, popping off his helmet as he notices how empty the stands are compared to when you used to race. The end of your need in Gotham has arrived, and the end of your services to WE has ended as well. There will be no more of you one day in the future, and Tim knows that one day, he too will be cursed to forget everything about you.

The people are gone.

The racers are gone.

And perhaps after this race, you will be too.

You enable the speaker, fingers clicking on the screen at the podium, giving the two of you a twenty-minute warmup.

Tim wonders just how fast he can go. He watches you from the side as you warm up your bike and drive, speeding around the track with practice that can only come from muscle memory. Yet, he drives around the track and gradually speeds up, trying to get a hand on how to race around. Tim finds that he's a little rusty, making several more rounds around the track as you sit on the side, clicking on your phone and scrolling through. Tim does not know how to bring it up.

"What does the winner get?" You look up from your phone, hopping on your bike as you wait for the countdown.

"Whatever the winner wishes."

"That's quite the bet." You hum, staring up at the light as Tim gets ready.

"Of course."

You start your bike, speeding past Tim as the light shows green, Tim tight behind you as he catches up to you. You wonder and think, leaning to the side as the bike follows, letting Tim pass you as you trail behind him. Tim finishes the first lap relatively quickly, and he realizes that you've fallen back a significant amount. He's unsure whether or not to speed up, but as he finishes his second lap, he finds that you're still far behind.

You cut him from the left, successfully stopping Tim from hitting a wall.

Tim speeds up to chase after you, wondering when you had the time to cut him off.

Yet, the end is evident, your bike parked at the end after your third lap, a grin on your face as he stares at you.

The souls are gone, and you look so, so lonely.

The lights shut as the two of you sit by the podium, tablet in your hand as you kick your legs, and you finally speak up.

"I know you found out."

Tim grimaces. "...why?"

You stare at Tim, peeling back your jacket, throwing it at him as he stares at you, watching as your eyes turn pitch black, shadows forming underneath your skin and turning the entire podium dark, some sort of ancient power creeping up your hands to your forearms, darkness evident in every blink at him, lips curled up into an apologetic smile, and Tim feels the water surrounding him drain all at once. If he would not leave you, then you would leave him. You would force him out of the comfort of your waters, knowing that it would drown him one day.

"The shadow moves with you." Tim stares at you, swallowing thickly. "There is only one victim left. We both know who it is."

You stare at Tim, lips curling upwards as he remembers why your smile started looking so familiar at one point.

"You are the last." Tim picks his words carefully. "Are you a shadow?"

"No. Just a medium. I am very much alive." You smile.

"Who are you waiting to kill?"

"No one." You hum. "I am alive because I must hold onto the shadows for the next ones seeking vengeance."

"You are the source."

You ignore him.

"Are you human?"

You blink at him again, ignoring him once more. "Luckily, it seems the victims have lessened lately."

"Why had there been so many at once?"

"There was an organization." You rock on your heels, lips curled upwards. "Everyone in the organization has been wiped. No fret. They alone resulted in over fifty deaths of women after they reached the age threshold."

"The youngest was ten."

"Yes."

"And the oldest?"

"Most of them were killed once they turned 21." You hum. "Occasionally, if someone looked young enough, they would be killed later, but the majority of them were killed at 21."

"How many souls were there initially?"

"Well over a thousand." You hum.

"And only you are left."

"Yes."

"Why play savior?"

"Why not?" You grin. "I have done nothing but host the poor souls. That does not warrant for my arrest."

Tim knows there is an argument against it, but he does not think too hard.

"Next time a soul finds you, notify me. Send me an invite to your race."

"You know, Tim." You hum. "B no longer needs me."

Ah.

"Will you be gone?"

"Very much so."

"To where?"

You do not tell him.

"Write to me." He speaks again.

You shake your head.

"I can not."

"Why not?"

"Send me some flowers when you see me on the news. That is my wish."

Tim tries to not think too much about your final words to him. You left the next morning, morphed shadows in the city leaving with you, and Tim finds that soon, almost everyone forgets you had ever existed. You had come and gone, shadow of death leaving with you, but he finds that occasionally on the news, he hears word about a new racer, gender unidentifiable, face consistently hidden, only known by their speed. You have become a criminal under the law, racing between the crevices of cities, fake trophy after fake trophy taken home, death following wherever you went, sex trafficking decreasing whenever you rested at night.

Tim tries not to follow you all that much, but when you show up on camera on accident, your home is raided and you are killed on sight by the same men who had killed so many others.

It hurts Tim in the head, eyes closed as he tries his best to not think too much about your death and how you had known all this time, but it would forever haunt him. He still remembers the way the waves would rock gently underneath the moonlight when he was engulfed by you, eyes always tired but comfort always found, knowing that you would be his rest when he needed it. So, for him to see you dead on the news, he finds that perhaps he was just cursed to not be able to hold onto you — that he was destined to be stuck in place and watch as you died because you had made a minor mistake. A mistake that would not have cost his life, but cost yours instead.

Yet, he honors your promise, white chrysanthemums placed at your grave as he holds onto the umbrella, humming quietly. The rain splatters gently against the plastic, quiet drumming calming him as he stares at the carving on the grave. The media had reported this was your place of burial, though Tim did not know if it really was you. He could have only assumed off of the information given, matching your age slightly, and he wonders if there is some sort of universe out there where he would be able to just stay with you.

"Here to see her too?" A masked woman steps next to Tim.

"Yes. I promised I would send flowers once she showed up on the news."

"How lovely of you." The woman hums, placing down a blue lotus.

"Did... you know her?"

"I knew her quite well."

Tim stares down at his flowers, finally looking up at the woman.

"It's such a shame, huh? That she would die to the very organization that she had been working to take care of."

"Well, perhaps she had just understood what it meant to live when she died." You turn to Tim, pulling down your mask as you wait for it to register in his head. "What do you think, Ca—"

You don't get to finish your words before Tim wraps his arms around you with closed eyes.

"I love you too, boy wonder."

#good morning tim drake tag did you miss me? no? GOOD. #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #timothy drake x reader #tim x reader #☾.fics #☾.suggestive #contemplated not posting this but like. 10k words r NOT about to go to waste when my queue is empty

[bunny-twirl]

Tim: I've slept so little, I can officially smell colors.

Y/N: How are you still alive!!?

Tim: That's the question I've been asking every day.

#tim drake #red robin #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x reader #red robin x y/n #red robin x reader #dc comics #dc comics x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc characters #dc universe #x y/n #x reader

[chikaras-garden]

Batboys as your sugar daddy

What’s the point of all this money if you don’t have someone to spend it on?

Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x fem!reader

Contains: Sugar daddies. Possessive, controlling men. Power imbalances. They’re all a little toxic. These relationships are not aspirational babes. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Dick’s.

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked.

BRUCE WAYNE 💋

“Wear the diamonds,” Bruce rumbles from behind you, lips right next to the shell of your ear. Before you can answer, his warm hands are already on your throat, and cool platinum touches your skin. A hundred diamonds arranged in three dainty layers sparkle in the low light of Bruce’s bedroom, clinging tightly to your neck.

With the choker clasped in place, one of Bruce’s hands traces up and down your neck while the other rests heavily on your hip, holding you flush against his chest. His touch is hypnotic, pulling you in like a planet pulls a moon into orbit. Your whole world revolves around him—and that’s exactly how he likes it.

But like the moon, the subtle gravitational pull you have on him keeps him in place, keeps him stable, calms his most wicked of storms.

He bows his head. The way he looks at you through his eyelashes is almost reverent while he kisses your bare shoulder, skin interrupted only by your dress’s hair-thin silk strap.

“Beautiful,” he says, and you know he’s not talking about the necklace, the dress, or any of the other jewels and silks he’s drowned you in over the last year.

When your eyes meet in the mirror, one corner of his lips quirks up into a smirk, which he buries under a kiss to your jaw. 

There, with a quick, sharp nip of his teeth, he lays his claim. “And all mine.”

DICK GRAYSON 💋

Dick’s on his knees, head buried between your legs when you hear—feel—him say, “I need you to take a week off work.”

Well. What he really needs is for you to just quit your job already, but you got upset the last time he suggested it. Baby steps. For now.

“Why?” you gasp, blinking hard as you try to focus on the fact that he’s starting a conversation now when his tongue is making you smart and shake with pleasure.

“I want to go to the Maldives,” he says as if it’s the most inconsequential thing in the world, as if he’s saying he wants to go across town, not across the world.

His tongue flattens out and dips into your weeping hole, and your thighs tighten around his head in response. He groans, and you choke out, “A week for the Maldives?”

You feel his lips twist and curve around you, paired with a little graze of teeth; he’s smiling, and the sensation makes you dizzy. There it is, he wants to say. You want more. Finally, your expectations are starting to match his bank account.

But he decides to play the dumb, pretty boyfriend he likes to make people think he is. “You don’t think it’s enough time? Wanna take two weeks?”

“I don’t have the—” He kisses up to your clit and gives it a tentative little suck, which makes you fist his hair. “—vacation days.”

“Why don’t you just take them without pay?” he proposes as his tongue laves up your swollen sex. “It’ll be okay, just this once. You’ll feel so much better after some time off; I promise.”

JASON TODD 💋

Jason is currently scrutinizing the contents of your pantry, a box of macaroni and cheese in his hand. After seeing the scowl on his face, you’re not surprised when he starts to lecture you. “You eat this crap?”

You raise a brow because he’s one to judge. “I’ve seen you eat an entire party box of tacos.”

“I’m not you,” he fires back. His voice is still low, still calm, but you can sense an edge in his tone; this conversation is about a lot more than boxed macaroni and cheese.

In the beat of silence that follows, his heated gaze dulls to a smolder. “You don’t know how precious you are.”

You open your mouth to reply, but whatever retort you were going to argue back with is silenced when Jason’s big hands cup your face, tilting your head up so he can kiss your forehead. He lingers there, and you feel him tremble. His breath is ragged, rough—as if he’s afraid.

“I’m not you,” he repeats in a whisper. It’s like he’s talking to a child, like he knows you don’t know any better. Poor little you—you need him. “Just let me take care of you like always, okay? How about I sign you up for one of those meal prep kits? No more processed food; it’s not good for you.”

When he pulls you against his chest and strokes your hair, you feel yourself nod, unable to disagree. You know he’s right, after all; and isn’t it sweet that he treats you like a delicate angel even though he’s seen the worst of the world? That nothing without his stamp of approval is good enough for you?

TIM DRAKE 💋

“Oh, you’re all set,” your manicurist smiles at you as soon as you take out your wallet, nails freshly done. 

Caught off guard, all you can reply with is, “Huh?”

She just smiles a little brighter, and there’s a sparkle of something in her eyes. It looks a little wistful, but also a little vapid—is that jealousy? “Your boyfriend paid already,” she explains as her eyes not-so-subtly look around, trying to catch a glimpse of said boyfriend, but you’re just as surprised as she is.

“For the next year,” she adds in a dry tone. Slowly, you drop your wallet back into your purse. There’s only one man alive who could figure out where you get your nails done, what day and time you like your appointments, and call ahead to pay off your manicures for the next year without you ever finding out about it.

So when you get back to your car, you call him.

“Do anything fun today?” he asks over the phone, pretending to be way more innocent than he actually is.

“Tim—”

“Actually,” he cuts in, and you hear a bashful tremor in his voice. That tremor makes your stomach do flips, which beckons you to give in to whatever he wants. “I was just thinking about you. You’ve got the prettiest hands.”

“Tim—”

“Let’s go shopping later,” he rambles on, completely ignoring you. “I think you need some new jewelry. You’d like a new set of rings, wouldn’t you?”

🔖: @mrs-kurooo; @lovely-loren05

#bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #batman x reader #nightwing x reader #red hood x reader #batfam x reader #🌸— mine. #🌸— bruce wayne. #🌸— dick grayson. #🌸— jason todd. #🌸— tim drake.

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Jason: I accidentally poisoned one of our drinks, but I don’t remember which one

Dick: EXCUSE ME-

Damian: With the way this gala’s going, I hope it’s mine

Tim: *chugs his drink*

Bruce: *quickly takes Y/N’s drink before she can do the same*

Y/N: Aw man :(

#batfamily incorrect quotes #batfamily x reader #batfamily #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader platonic #bruce wayne x reader #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x reader platonic #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader platonic #damian wayne x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader platonic #dick grayson x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader platonic #jason todd x reader #dc incorrect quotes #dc x reader #dc

[radicallxser]

"Careful", you snag the boy's shirt before he can step into the road. The boy's head snaps away from his phone and towards you.

He looks pissed but you watch his face shift into a blank sort of stare.

"Sorry-", you release the grip on his shirt, shifting the carrier on your hip, "you should pay more attention when you're this close to the road."

You offer him a weak smile and he blinks up at you, then turns and scurries across the road, focused back onto his phone. Sighing, you adjust baby carrier and begin walking again.

The walk isn't a horrible one, ten minutes is nothing on the half hour walk it takes you to get to work. It's just a little more difficult with a awkward sized baby carrier.

Typically you'd take the train, but you need to get to the grocery store before it gets dark. The air is already chilly but the forecast calls for snow and the baby doesn't need that.

-

The store is a little warmer when you step inside and you even manage to snag a buggy.

The store is relatively quiet and you find what you need to...except for the box of baby rice towards the back on a shelf you can't reach.

You groan softly, glancing at the snoozing babe. She loves those...

You stand on your very tiptoes, grabbing at air. Then, a hand reaches up and grabs them. You turn, about to ask them for the box, when the man passes the box to you.

"Here, you looked like you needed help." He holds the box out with one hand, running his fingers through his black hair with the other.

You blink curiously at him, then take the box.

"Thank you so much, hon." You grin, placing the item in your cart and hurrying to check out.

-

The walk is still cold, despite the sun barely starting to set. You shiver, somehow managing to carry the groceries and the baby carrier at the same time.

About half a mile from your apartment, you bump into a chest. Dropping a few bags and praying the eggs aren't in them.

"Sorry about that", a masculine voice mumbles above you. You tilt your head up to meet the eyes of a boy a little younger than the one who helped you before. He tilts his head, a tuft of white hair hanging in his eyes.

"Would you like some help?" He starts grabbing the dropped bags before you can answer. He makes a gesture for you to lead the way.

"I'm Jason, by the way. We live in the same complex."

You swear you've never seen him before, but maybe that's just you.

-

That night, groceries put away and a baby snuggled happily against your chest, you lay in bed.

Oblivious to several pairs of eyes watching you and the bickering from the rooftops above.

"Ummi spoke to me today, with the baby!" Damian speaks.

"Yeah, well I helped ma with her groceries!" Jason gives him a playful shove.

"Well, the baby smiled at me!" Dick jabs a thumb at his chest triumphantly.

"All of you hush!" Tim speaks up, crouched next to Duke, eyes focused on a familiar window.

Bruce looms nearby, caught up his daydream where he's the sweater wrapped so tightly around you. Someday.

Someday sooner than you think.

#vee writes #teehee #dc x reader #platonic batfam #batfam x batmom #batfam x reader #bruce wayne x reader #jason todd x batmom #dick grayson x batmom #Damian Wayne x batmom #Duke Thomas x batmom #Tim Drake x batmom #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #duke thomas x reader #tim drake x reader #batmom #yandere batfam #yandere dc

[orionremastered]

could you do a batfam x oblivious reader who’s so close to finding out they’re a vigilante, but she doesn’t even know if that makes sense? like nightwing crawling in through the window when he thought she was asleep, only for her to be awake and go “wrong house?” not realizing it’s her boyfriend.. who thought she was asleep

this made me laugh. very good thinking brains y'all have

Masterlist

Oblivious

Dick Grayson

The sound of your window sliding open prompts you to look up from where you lie your head on the pillow. You can't seem to get to sleep and maybe it's a good thing— you grab for the lamp on the bedside table and raise it high over your head.

Climbing through the window, however, is not a common thief. It's Nightwing.

"What are you doing here?"

The vigilante freezes, slowly looking up to meet your eyes. "I was told there was domestic abuse occurring in this apartment," he says smoothly. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Where is he?"

You look over to Dick's spot on the bed and only just now do you realise it's empty. There's a note written on paper that reads, OUT TO GET FOOD.

"He's grocery shopping."

"Ah, wrong apartment, then. Sorry to bother you." The vigilante then ducks outside.

Jason Todd

A loud crash prompts you to wake up— far earlier than you're used to. The sun isn't even up yet. Glancing to the side of your bed, you forget Jason's out on a business trip, what ever his business is.

You carefully climb out of bed, creeping to the bedroom door and slowly pushing it open. In your living stands Red Hood himself, dismantling an assault rifle.

"What are you doing in my house?"

The vigilante whips his head around, frozen like a deer in headlights. There's a long few minutes of silence where the two of you stare at each other.

"Gun's not working. I'll be out in a minute, just need to fix it. My apologies."

"Oh," you say, shrugging your shoulders. "Stay safe, then."

Red Hood nods, watching you return to your bed with a quiet sigh.

Tim Drake

Waking up at your usual time and kissing Tim gently on the forehead, almost as a reward for sleeping.

After eating breakfast as quickly as you could, you were surprised to see Tim still asleep and give him another gentle kiss, this time on the nose.

You've only got half an hour until you have to go to work, so you rush to the bathroom to get ready.

The Red Robin suit is draped over the shower wall, unmistakeable.

In your bathroom.

"Tim?" You shout, forgetting your boyfriend's need to sleep. "Tim!"

"What?" he replies groggily, slowly getting out of bed.

"The Red Robin suit is in my bathroom."

"Oh, uh, he asked me to clean it for him. We're sort of like, friends. I guess. It's weird."

"You never told me that," you say.

"It's a recent thing. Sorry."

You shrug and get ready for work, ignoring the suit at is it hangs in your bathroom.

Damian Wayne

"Emergency at work," your boyfriend had said. He gets a lot of those, you think. "Be back in the morning. Maybe later."

Now, going to sleep late— towards midnight, where Damian would have already dragged you into bed— you realised you didn't have on of his shirts to sleep in.

When he wasn't with you to sleep, you always sleep in one of his shirts.

You begin scrummaging through his wardrobe— which you never do— only for a shirt. You find one, your favourite black one, and pull it out.

Underneath the shirt, revealed as you yank it from the drawer, is a katanna.

"Oh. Oh."

It's late. You're tired. You've got the shirt.

It's probably just an antique piece anyway. Rich people have all sorts of things.

#batfamily x reader #damian wayne x reader #batfam #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiii I was looking to see if your request is open but couldn’t find it so I’ll just drop it here and feel free to write it :) I love your writings! 🌸

May I ask for batboys reacting to shy reader who wants them to lie down on her lap after their long day. She wants to praise them, play with their hair and shower them with kisses :0 thank you!

Dick:

Would rest his head on your lap regardless of whether you asked him to do not, your lap was the perfect pillow for him and he will not have it any other way.

‘Hi baby.’ He greets as he beams up at you from the comfort of your lap.

‘Hi honey, long day?’ You greeted back, your hands already finding their way into his hair and began to comb through it slowly as he hums, burrowing himself closer to you as a means to feel more of you against him.

‘Yeah but it’s nothing I can’t handle.’ Dick replied and smiled wide when you kissed his cheek before kissing his nose, and felt his heart melt upon giggling you giggling when he scrunched up his face.

‘Is there nothing that my handsome man can’t do?’ You asked sarcastically as you pressed a kiss to his other cheek. ‘Or is he just the most perfect man in existence?’

Dick made a face at this. ‘Have you maybe considered that this handsome man of yours has an amazing, wonderful and beautifully cute spouse waiting at home for him as inspiration?’ He looks at you with a raised brow.

‘I’m the one who’s meant to be praising you tonight, not you praising me.’ You chuckled as you peppered his face in small, quick kisses that had Dick reaching a hand to the back of your head, holding you close so he could give you a plethora of kisses of his own.

‘Well what if we could just both praise the other tonight.’ Dick said against your lips.

‘I can deal with that.’ You replied as you spent the rest of the night whispering sweet nothings to one another and trading kisses.

Jason:

Your lap was his save haven after a long and tiresome day from having to listen to Bruce critique his way of ridding crime out of Gotham. So he wasn’t going to refuse your affection, not when you shyly patted your lap as an invite to rest his head and looking cute whilst doing so.

God had his permission to smite him to his second death should he actually refuses your requests to coddle him and shower him in all your love and adoration.

If anything the days where you offered up your lap to him were the best days of his entire life as he got to spend it looking up at an absolute angel that he was lucky enough to call his own.

‘How’s my gorgeous jay birdie feeling today?’ You asked as you kissed his along his jaw and stopping when you got to his chin.

‘I’m feeling fantastic now that I’m with you sweetheart. How about you.’ He replied back as he looked up at you with his pretty eyes that he knew made you weak. Jason only wanted to give you back the love and support that you give him on a daily basis tenfold, for it’s what you truly deserved in his eyes.

He loved you too much to allow you to settle for mediocrity.

‘I’m feeling much better now my strong, brave boy has come home to me safe and one less bruise to ice.’ You responded with a lighthearted chuckle as you lifted up one of his large hands and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before resting your cheek against it to commemorate his warmth and callouses to memory.

‘Don’t come at me with that sweetheart, I know you love icing my bruises, especially when they’re on my abdomen.’ Jason cheeked as he winked at you, taking pure enjoyment out of seeing your flustered face. It was a much needed breath of fresh air coming home to sweet, caring you from the cold, unforgiving outside and he cherished every bit of it for as long as he could.

‘Meanie.’ You murmur, booping him on the nose.

‘Meanie? How am I being mean chipmunk, I know how much you love my abs and my thighs.’ Jason chuckled as he booped your nose in retaliation. ‘Why do you think I never skip leg day?’

‘You’re more than perfect the way you are Jason,’ you countered, ‘perfect body or not you’re still my jay birdie. Forever and always.’ You whispered the last part as you pressed a sweet tender kiss to his lips as he smiled in response.

Tim:

He always finds himself perpetually tired from working himself to the bone, so when you offered up your lap for him to rest, the poor man practically sighed in relief, almost as if he were a man dying of thirst in the desert; finally having found the oasis he had been wandering aimlessly for.

‘You don’t know how much I needed this.’ Tim groans as he made himself comfortable in your lap, trying his hardest to not to close his eyes right then and there from the prepping of light kisses you were scattering across his forehead and under his eyes.

Gosh he hates how weak he gets from your little kisses but would die a little on the inside if you didn’t.

‘I’m sure I can take a guess.’ You said sweetly as you ran your hand through his hair. ‘You’ve been overworking yourself so much lately that I rarely see you as much,’ Tim’s stomach dropped upon hearing this but let you finish speaking, ‘but when I do see you it always makes me happy knowing that you’re okay.’ You then pressed a kiss to his cheek.

‘I’m sorry for-‘ you cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips, muttering a soft ‘don’t. Don’t blame yourself for things you can’t control.’

‘But I can control it!’ Tim exclaimed. ‘It’s not fair on you to exhaust yourself on me every night after patrol and still find it within yourself to take care of me…I don’t deserve any of it as it feels as though I’m taking advantage of you somehow.’ Tim trailed off as he looked away for you as guilt are away at him.

‘Tim,’ you called, ‘my sweet Tim as long as I know your okay and come home to me every night, then I don’t care how long I have to stay up just catch a glimpse of your handsome face.’ You reassured him as you kissed his jawline softly, and Tim felt himself weaken under your words and affection as he looked back up at you.

‘You really mean that?’ He asked almost quietly.

‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it with all my heart my sweet, smart boy.’ You said while pressing a singular kiss to his forehead.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #Tim drake imagine #Tim drake imagines #nightwing imagines #nightwing imagine #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you #nightwing fluff #nightwing x reader #red hood x you #red hood imagine

[issdisgrace]

Batdad Y/n: When I was like 18 I did coke off a stripper’s abs

Jason, Dick, Tim and Damian: WhAT

Cue Bruce shaking his head because he was there when you did it

#batfamily #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #dc #batfamily x male reader #batfamily x reader #bruce wayne x male reader #bruce wayne x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x male reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x reader #dc x male reader #dc x reader #ryans incorrect quotes

[kurogxrix]

Clingy Mornings

Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader, Batboys x Batmom

IN WHICH your clinginess towards your husband never fails to disgust your sons.

WC: 1.5k

“And where'd you think you're going?” The sudden sound of your voice, albeit muffled partly by your pillow and sleepiness, startled your husband from his sitting place at the edge of your shared bed. You could barely even see with the morning grogginess clouding your iris, yet Bruce’s defined back muscles somewhat managed to break through your view. 

Bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes, you couldn’t help but relish in the sight of your husband’s fine muscles flexing as he turned to meet your eyes. The way his bicep laid there all deliciously as he tipped all of his body weight onto one arm, the other moving up to caress at your cheek lovingly. There was no denying the pure adoration that swam through his beautiful blue iris, they spoke for themselves. 

“Well one of us has to be downstairs before Alfred decides that we’ve had enough sleeping time and barges into our room.” he chuckled slightly, a rare instance for The Batman, yet he’d only show this side when he was Bruce Wayne alongside you. His beautiful wife and mother of his children, adopted or not, they were yours. He had to force himself and resist the urge to chuckle as he watched your expression morph into a pout, your delicate hand pulling at his arm as you tried to get him back under the sheets with you. 

“Cmon Bruce, just a few more minutes.” you pleaded, tiredness still evident in your voice but it progressively faded the more you stayed up begging your husband to fall asleep with you again. Your hopes spike as Bruce laid behind you for a second, but the fact that he was laying on his forearm and elbow immediately crushed all of your hopes. His warm palm never left your cheek once, making you snuggle deeper into the palm that was just as big as your face. 

“I’d love to, trust me. But are you sure that you don’t want to see those demons of yours before they leave?” Of course he’d do that, of course Bruce would use your beloved children as bait for you to accompany him downstairs and finally leave the bed. You grunted something along the lines of ‘well then you better carry me’ in the crook of his neck as you threw your arms around his shoulders. This time Bruce couldn’t resist chuckling as he grabbed you delicately by the hips, hosting you onto his lap as he stood up from the plush mattress. 

Bruce hadn’t complained once about your clinginess. Truth to be told you’d been like this since the night before because you had rarely seen your beloved Bruce for nearly a whole ass week. It wasn’t unusual that you both wouldn’t see each other, on days that you’d be busy with work and on nights that the city’s menaces just wouldn’t rest. But recently everything had just been too much, too many meetings, too many villains and yet not enough time.

You winced as his hands came to lay across the bruises that now decorated your hips, two huge hand marks engraved into your skin as a remnant of the previous night. Needless to say that the reunion sex had you reaching for the stars, and the faint ache between your legs was a constant reminder of just what Bruce’s perfect girth could do to you. 

Your husband moved his hands with expertise as he descended the stairs, having only one hand under your ass to support your weight as the other laid along your back. You weren’t even concerned about a potential fall, because your husband did happen to be Batman, and his strength was unmeasured to your body weight. No matter what it was. 

Dick had been the first to notice his father walk into the living room, not that it was hard to notice him considering the absolute unit of a man that your 6’4 husband was. Your eldest son was perched up on the sofa, a bowl full of cereal and milk as the TV played in the background. He froze at first, unable to see you from your buried position in Bruce’s chest. Dick was afraid that you’d walk in shortly after you dear husband and start ripping one off on your son for eating on your couch, because even as the grown ass man that he now was, Dick was the messiest eater that you’d ever seen.

Though luckily for him that never came because it seemed like you had better plans, which included being stuck all day to your husband. No exaggeration. He watched in amusement as Bruce sat down amongst his children on the sofa, Damian not even displaying an ounce of attention towards his father as his eyes strained on the TV. could tell that it was a lazy morning for the both of you, even if Bruce claimed that it wasn’t for him. He had been clearly too bothered to dress before going down, instead clad in nothing but a pair of black boxers that he’d quickly thrown on in the morning. His warm, bare skin brought warmth against your clothed one, making you cling to him even harder than you previously were. 

Dick couldn’t help the smile growing upon his lips as he noticed the way your hands were clamped tightly around Bruce’s neck alongside the way your legs caged his waist. Like a clingy koala, he thought. 

You’d not moved from your position upon arrival, and at first your children could’ve thought that you were sleeping, and that Bruce was the clingy one after having snatched you from the comfort of your bed to snuggle with you downstairs on the couch.

Although they quickly found their assumptions to be wrong as they watched Bruce hand move up to your lower back, rubbing it adoringly before he gently tapped you to move and cuddle his side so he could eat. The bowl of cereal that he’d quickly grabbed from Alfred sat on the table staring at him, and his stomach was yelling for it. 

You squeezed in between Bruce and Damian as you climbed off your husband's lap, offering him the limited space that he’d get for the rest of the week. By all means you were still cuddled up to his side, an arm wrapped around his bicep as you rested your head on his bulging muscles. 

In the back of your mind, you heard a little voice telling you that this morning was all too weird. Why? Because the living room was far too silent for it to harbour all four of your children at once in. Maybe If you’d both been a little more aware you would’ve caught the sight of Jason trying and desperately failing in his attempts of ‘secretly’ snapping a picture of you both since the moment you’d walked in. 

Bruce could be sure that in a few hours he’d get a ping from his phone and a bunch of notifications about some sort of instagram post that your son has posted about the seemingly intimidating Bruce Wayne cuddling up to his wife. The caption would read ‘Bruce Wayne has gone soft, nobody is safe from the softpocalypse anymore’, but you didn’t know that as of now. 

Maybe you’d catch sight of that devilish grin adorning your youngest’s face, yet again that was nothing new. Or maybe you would have been able to notice the way Tim would often part from his beloved cup of coffee to check if Jason got the right angle. Although Bruce would admit later on that there’s no shame in showing some well deserved love to your spouse, he’d most definitely ground them all for playing this little ‘prank’ on him. 

You slowly returned in Bruce’s embrace after watching whatever idiotic movie that Dick had put on for god knows how long. Bruce’s bowl now empty and sitting on the coffee table before you. You took it as a sign that you could retake your spot within his arms, and your brooding husband didn’t even complain once as you got comfortable. With your face now buried in the warmth of his neck once again, you couldn’t help yourself but to give him a chaste kiss here and there.

“In front of my coffee.” you paused your movements at the disgusted tone in Tim’s words, effectively getting your other son’s to turn towards you both. You relished in their disgusted disagreeing, carefree laughter escaping you while blocking whatever sound came from the TV. You watched as your boys all left the room one by one to go on with their days, claiming that they can’t stand you two being ‘too in love’ because it was far too disgusting.

A solid minute after the room regained its original silence, save for the soft sounds of the movie still playing, Bruce allowed himself to relax in your arms. He slid down the sofa in a lazy position, keeping you tightly trapped in his embrace as he rested his head above yours. Hands regaining their comforting motions above your back, a rare and cocky smile graced Bruce’s face. Now that the whole mansion knew that you both were up and going, all in your ‘disgusting’ clinginess, he could only guess when the next person who dared to walk upon you both would come and disturb you. 

-

Hope my bruce girlies eat this shit up. also this is UNEDITED😔

#bruce wayne x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #batmom #batboys #batboys x reader #batboys x batmom #batfam x reader #bruce wayne fluff #batboys fluff

[l0vergirls]

just a little something that's been on my mind for a while now, like it's actually rotting my brain.

cw: stalking, a bit nsfw near the end, just general yandere stuff, not proof-read!!!!! so sorry if its a bit messy !!!!

★ (romantic) yandere!batfam x reader

imagine being the shared darling of the batfam.

it only takes one of them for the rest to fall in love with you, too.

let's say you meet tim during one of the days he actually decides to go to class, and he's thanking the heavens he did.

slowly, he starts to integrate himself into your daily life, and into your friend group. they all love him, of course. who wouldn't love the kind, funny, and handsome tim drake?

during all of this, he'd already told his brothers about you, and because they can't hide anything from bruce, he finds out about you too. unsurprisingly, they come to appreciate you as much as tim has.

and suddenly, you get a particularly handsome new neighbour in the apartment across from you (which you didn't know was even up for rent) and somehow always seems to be in the middle of stripping when you're home. almost as if he can feel your eyes on him. of course, you make sure not to get caught, and avert your eyes as soon as the cloth leaves his waist.

later, you find out his name is jason, and make a good friend out of him. he smokes on his balcony, while you drink coffee on yours.

barely a week after that, you get a new regular at the café you work at. his name's dick grayson. he says it's probably best for you to yell out his last name for his orders too. he's a detective, which explains the late nights he comes into the café. he's always got a stupidly handsome smile on his face, which only adds onto his neverending charm.

and during the occasion that you're walking home alone, you always seem to run into one of the many vigilantes that guard gotham.

you meet both batman and robin during one of your walks home. you're not scared of them, as most people are; you're merely fascinated at the tall figure that towers over you, and his more colourful counterpart that is also taller than you. robin seems to be just a couple years younger than you. and batman... you can't seem to get a read on the man.

you greet them both as calmly as you can, a small smile on your lips. you get nods of acknowledgment from both of them, which you suppose is the most you're getting.

batman doesn't seem to like that you're walking alone, so he sends robin to walk you home. you don't understand why, and you tell them you've walked this route many times already, that they probably have worse things to take care of.

he tells you that you can never be too sure in gotham. with the way he says it, in that gravelly tone, you can't find yourself to disagree.

on your walk, now with robin's company, you feel safer. you also find out this robin is a man of few words, very unlike the last few robins yet much like batman.

the next night, you run into red robin, who has an air of familiarity around him. he's real friendly— in fact, it's almost like talking to a friend. you think you've seen his smile before.

the night after that, you meet nightwing in all of his spandex-clad glory. he's charming, almost flirty.

and for a week, you don't bump into any of the vigilantes, but you do feel watched. you should be frightened, by all means, but you have a feeling deep in your stomach that tells you they won't hurt you. whoever they are.

you see red hood after that week. he's the more intimidating one of the bunch, you reckon. you've nothing to be scared of, knowing he (along with all the others) only goes after the real awful people. you're not guilty of anything, as far as you know.

his voice is almost robotic, as if being run through a voice changer. it doesn't do much to help his image, though you suppose that's the point. he asks what a little thing like you is doing walking around these parts. you say you're just heading home, like all the times you've met one of them.

he lets you on his motorcycle. if you were paying enough attention, maybe you would've felt his heart beating a mile a minute.

your days go on like this for a while. class, work, walk home with one of gotham's protectors. rinse and repeat.

unbeknownst to you, cameras have been planted all around your apartment. in many angles of your bedroom too, save for your bathroom. they've decided to give you privacy in there. no matter how much dick begged.

though they do have clips saved of you walking around in just a towel, or your underwear. god knows what they're doing with those.

but truly, can you blame them? you've invaded the deepest crevices of their minds, your smell lingering on their noses, and the shape of your lips following them in their dreams.

oh, they can vividly see— almost feel your lips on theirs, and they wonder what you look like when your face is scrunched up from pleasure, as their fingers enter you.

but they'll have to wait a little longer. and they'll be damned if they lose you, when you're playing right into their hands.

this got so long !!!! i had to let this all out somewhere <//3 definitely gonna add more but i needed to cut it off at this 😭😭😭😭

#might focus on tim's part in all this next time!!! #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere x reader #— dc. #— the bats. #— yan writes.

[prismuffin]

Idk why this is so funny to me, but how would the Batfam react to Tim Drake making a contract with a demon Male reader?

Like a part of the demon contract deals, is neither party demon nor the human can say what the contract is. So the batfam has no context what, so why is the demon there and follows around Tim.

Batman ofc dragged a favour out of Constantine, and John explains that many contracts have one rule that the contract can be told to others, of what it is. But he can give them info of the demon, which Male Reader is a demon that rules over psychology and secrets.

So when Tim is doing another "all-nighter" (it's going on 29 hours of being a wake), the batfam notices the demon getting agitated watching Tim and speaks 'Do you remember the rules of our contract?' , Tim sighing in stubbornness says 'Yes, but I'm almost done with this breakthrough'.

After one more hour, Demon Reader gets up and taps Tim's shoulder and possesses him. Immediately saving his work, and begins doing all of the self-care tasks Tim's been putting off. Like dumping out his coffee, and drinking water, taking a shower, eating a balanced meal and doing his laundry. While Tim's mind is asleep in his subconscious.

Ooooo I kinda like this idea ok soooo I think that-

At first glance everyone is definitely thrown off by your presence. Why in the world would Tim do something like this out of nowhere? Damian is just intrigued and curious, mostly asking you questions that you promptly ignore. Dick, and Jason are immediately concerned, throwing out question after question about why Tim would do this but he never tells them. So the first thing they do is run to Bruce who just goes to John to see if he has any information on the type of demon you are. John does his little investigation on you and immediately recognizes you as a type of psychological demon, so he tells them not to worry about it too much. That doesn't stop them from being warry about you as you follow Tim around. They'd try to make idle chatter here and there but you'd always respond quickly, being too focused on Tim to really care about anyone else. It made it hard to build trust with you so they were never 100% sure you wouldn't cause any harm to Tim. Until one day at least.

Of course there came a time where Tim refused to sleep as he worked on his latest breakthrough. The others had tried to get him to away from his lab and into a bed or at the very least the kitchen to eat a meal but it was no use, until you that is. Around the 29th hour of Tim's all-nighter the others had heard some commotion from his lab. Going to check it out they found you nagging him to take a break and rest while reminding him about the rules of your covert contract. When he'd ignored you one last time you took matters into your own hands, possessing Tim and forcing him to get up and take care of himself. The others were definitely freaked out until they noticed you simply cleaning up his desk before moving to the bathroom where you made sure his teeth were brushed and his face was washed. You'd made him take a shower, eat, hydrate, and all in all just did menial tasks for him, making sure he was taken care of. It boggled everyone's minds somewhat but it sort of confirmed Johns suspicions that you wouldn't be a threat to anyone, let alone Tim.

———

Directory

#prismuffin #prisask #x male reader #male reader #x demon reader #demon reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake x male reader #tim drake imagine #dc imagine #dc x male reader #dc x reader #robin x male reader #robin x reader