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fierycosmos · 1 year

Note

I love all the robins but tim is a soft spot for me :3

for the bird brain event — mayhaps a little something with a jealous!Tim? 🥰

𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 ⎹ 𝓣.𝓓.

fandom dc / masterlist coming soon / @dollsdc-library

featuring tim drake x reader ( f! ) [ sorta ] & cassie makes an appearance!

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning tim’s a little unintentionally creepy, and he’s jealous. other than that, none.

summary he hasn’t worked up the nerve to tell you how he feels.

word count 800 / drabble

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

bird brains writing event !!

“Tell me what we’re doing over on this side of town when Bats wants us on recon by the docks.” Cassie was following Tim along the rooftops, face twisted in confusion, “I’m actually surprised he hasn’t already radioed in to yell at us.”

“I’ll be quick.” Tim mumbled, sheepish, as he hops over a ledge and on to a fire escape. he wanted to avoid eye contact or any real explanation, because nothing he could think of would justify what he was doing. “You don’t have to come with me, by the way, you could stay there.”

the vigilante decided to ignore that, and follows suit, hopping over the ledge and landing beside him. “Quick doing what?”

Tim felt a cherry blush start to raise in his cheeks, but he knelt down behind the steel and pulled her down, too. “I just… want to sit here for a minute.” but his eyes were scanning the streets.

her head on a swivel, her dark eyes were narrowed. “Do you have some intel that you haven’t told me? Does Batman know? Should we tell him?”

“Not exactly…” Tim trailed off, his line of sight catching and holding you, walking along the wet sidewalk. he could feel Cassandra following his eyeline, leaning over his shoulder to get a look at you, too, but he couldn’t find the strength to look away. you were still with him, walking close, and Tim could see his hand reaching for yours. you seem to dodge it, and stuff both hands in your pockets while you talked, inaudible from this distance, but the smile you wore was so obviously fake. Tim felt like a creep for knowing that.

Cassandra was quiet for several moments, before clearing her throat. “Who’s that?”

Tim picked at the leather of his gloves, eyes following you as you waltz up the stairs, the man following along behind you. he spoke your name, but it was strained in the air between him and Cass when he noticed the stranger’s gaze taking every inch of you in. like you were some delectable meal he was about to devour. “Do you remember that arsonist last month? The one that burned half of downtown?” Cassie nods, looking from him and back to you. “She was one of the victims. Well, almost one of them. Batman and I were able to get her and a couple of others out of the apartment complex before it went down.” Tim paused, smiling fondly as he recalled the night. he’d felt like a real hero, with you safely in his arms as he leapt from the shattered window across an alley gap to land on a dumpster below. “After that, this new blog popped up, this Red Robin fan blog. A few weeks ago, I found out it was her. She really admires me— all of us.” he corrects, sheepish.

“Is there a reason you’re stalking her?” it was a playful question, but Tim was humiliated. he wouldn’t call it stalking… would he? he just occasionally checked in on you.

“I’m not stalking her, I just—“

Cassie’s eyebrow arched, expectant.

“She posted on the blog about having her first real date since the fire and I just wanted to make sure she got home safe, that’s all. Is that so wrong?”

“No,” Cassie shrugged, a mischievous smile on her face, “it’s cute. You’ve got a little crush. Why haven’t you asked her out yet?”

Tim sighs, he didn’t have a real reason, other than the fact that he felt such violent butterflies in his stomach when he looked at you that he felt like he needed to grasp on to something, lest those flapping wings carry him away into the sky. the night he’d saved you, when he set you gently on your feet, you’d thrown your arms around him in a tight hug, and you’d been so warm, and smelled so good that he hadn’t wanted to let go. frowning when you turn to say goodbye to your date, his brows furrow. “Do you think she likes him?” the mere thought of your date being successful made his stomach turn. he knew he shouldn’t feel this way, but he couldn’t help it.

your date beelines for a kiss, lips puckered with his hands on your waist, and Tim’s fingers curl into tight fists around the metal bars of the fire escape. why was it so stressful to see you with someone, when he’d probably spoken all of three words to you?

thankfully, you turn your head in time to have his kiss planted against your cheek, and opt for a hug instead, and Tim can see the awkward expression painted on your countenance.

“Yeah… I don’t think so.” Cassandra spoke the obvious, her smile still there, but faint, and she nudges Tim. “You can ease up, looks like she won’t be seeing him again.” before she adds on a joke, “Maybe she only has the hots for Robin, now.”

he felt a little relief, watching you disappear behind the door and your date stomping back towards the taxi waiting, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We should get out of here.” Cassie mumbles, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. “We’ve still got work to do.”

“Yeah.” Tim replies, straightening too, but his eyes linger on her bedroom window when the lights come on. Cassie’s words bounce around in his head. maybe she only has the hots for Robin. somehow, that made him feel better.

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fierycosmos · 1 year

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🥰oooo this was a cute read

Ohh for the bird brains event, how about a meet-cute with Damian at a Wayne gala/charity event? Reader could be on the wait staff or a party guest, whichever you prefer!

this turned out kinda weird BUT i’ma roll with it. i hope you like it babe!

𝓁𝑒𝓉’𝓈 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 ⎹ 𝓓.𝓦.

fandom dc / masterlist coming soon / @dollsdc-library

featuring damian wayne x reader ( f! )

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning Damian’s been aged up to about 19 in this, he’s a little rude and demanding, but no real warnings.

summary this was supposed to be an easy gig to make some extra cash, but you can’t help but notice Damian Wayne won’t stop staring at you.

word count 1.9k / mini musing

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

bird brains writing event !!

this had been a good idea in theory.

you’d always wondered what the Wayne Charity Galas were like— of course, you’d always imagined seeing them through the eyes of a guest, and not a waitress serving drinks to the sloshed socialites. still, when your roommate told you she’d gotten the job for the two of you, it had been hard to turn down. one of those opportunities that don’t just fall out of the sky for everyone, and the lucky ones must snag them whilst they can.

however, you underestimated just how much booze the .1% could consume in an evening. traipsing back and forth across the ballroom in a constant duck and weave routine to avoid twirling couples, you would get to one side of the party, only to find your tray of champagne completely barren, and would have to trounce back into the kitchen for more.

and, of course, there was the uniform. you felt like a penguin, clad in a black and white romper that was so tight to your body it was giving you a perpetual wedgie. the neckline felt gratuitous in its dip, as did the sleek, black pumps that were murdering your poor feet.

moreover, you could feel a pair of piercing eyes on you every time you made another round. he was posted near the corner, arms crossed and had been wearing the same scowl since you’d first walked in. you knew who he was because of course you did, but you couldn’t find the nerve to actually meet his gaze— keeping your eyes fixed at the flutes balanced on your crystalline tray, instead. why was he glaring so hard? did you really look so out of place? or maybe it was the sheer ridiculousness of your outfit that he was looking at with disdain. but, if that were the case, why did you feel his stare on your face, as if he were trying to catch your gaze? moments felt like hours as you prayed the remaining glasses would disappear faster so you might have a reason to escape to the back again, but it seemed like Lady Luck was having too much fun in watching you stand there, blushing like a fool, trying not to look like you knew he was staring at you.

you fix your eyes to the dance floor, crowded with gorgeous women in gaudy gowns and dazzling jewels and their dapper companions, twirling and dipping them. it was almost like something out of a fairytale, a royal ball where every man’s suit probably cost more than your dented, little Camry parked outside. for a moment, you try to imagine what it might be like to be there, instead of on the sidelines, serving drinks. was it fun? freeing?

“Do you even know how to ballroom dance?” it was a curt question that comes from your left, cutting through your daydream and pulling you back to reality.

it takes you a moment to realize Damian had stepped up beside you, but now that you were aware of his closeness, you couldn’t think of anything else. the warmth of his figure, the softness of his suit, and the hints of sandalwood and vanilla in his cologne. “Um… no, not really.” you replied, bashfully looking towards your feet, “Just what I’ve seen on, like, The Princess Diaries.” you tried to chuckle, to make a joke of it, but he didn’t reciprocate. your awkward laugh hangs in the otherwise silent air and you force yourself not to roll your own eyes. what a lame attempt. you clear your throat, looking at your nearly empty tray. three left. just three.

“Dance with me.”

three words that had you blinking incredulous, unsure if you’ve heard him properly as your attention is directed towards him. he’s staring at you again, eyebrow quirked, both arms folded over his chest and his clear eyes were narrowed. did he look this angry all the time?

“What?”

“I don’t like to repeat myself.”

blinking again, you zip your tiers for a moment, and that’s when his hand stretches out, palm up, practically commanding you to take it. and you want to, but your hands are full. “I— I’m working.” you offer, sheepish, just as the last flute is plucked from your tray. you’re supposed to rush back and get another round, so you hug the tray close to your chest.

“Clearly. But I didn’t ask, did I?”

“What if I… get in trouble?”

Damian’s gaze hardened, his fingers barely twitching. “You won’t.”

you look down at his hand, and then back up to his face, stoic and expecting you to accept, but you can’t bring yourself to abandon a wage and make a fool of yourself in front of Gotham’s Elite. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Wayne. But I need to… uh…” gesturing over your shoulder, you took a couple of steps back, bumping into a gentleman’s back and sputtering an apology before you turned and hurried towards your roommate. maybe you could walk back with her. she sees you coming, a partial smile forming on her face until she sees the tense expression on yours. you grasp her arm pulling yourself close to her whilst your footsteps fall into a rhythm with her own.

“Hey! Were you just talking to Damian Wayne?” she asks; she sounds starstruck at the mere prospect. “What did he say to you?”

you sighed, “He… asked me to dance with him.” you pause, before shaking your head. “Well, demanded I dance with him, actually.”

her countenance screws into bemusement, “And you didn’t?”

those three words made you feel ashamed; perhaps you should’ve. you frown, indignant, and gesture to the tray in your hands. “No, I’m a little busy, remember?”

“Yeah but, come on, you can’t just reject Damian Wayne.”

why not? you wanted to ask. what the hell made him so special, other than his family name, anyways? what gave him the right to talk to anyone the way he did to you? you reach the door to the kitchen, only for her to stop in her tracks, putting a halt in your step as well.

“Oh, my god, he’s coming over here!”

“What?” you don’t look, you can’t, because your face is already on fire with another blush.

“He’s coming over here!” she repeats, giddy, and urges you to turn around. “Good evening, Mr. Wayne!” she gushes. you follow her lead, sheepishly glancing back up at him. his eyes are just as hard cut, as if carved from diamonds, and his brows are knit together. he doesn’t even acknowledge your roommate, he’s much too busy glaring at you. making you feel two feet tall. you shrink beneath his stare.

you half expected him to tell you to get lost; after all, he could’ve kicked you out of the party, couldn’t he? but, he doesn’t. his hand shoots out, wrenching the tray from your grip with a swift snatch, and he tosses it on top of your roommate’s empty tray in her arms, which she catches and holds tight, watching with big eyes. your heart is beating like a drum, and you swear he can hear it. but Damian doesn’t say a word. his stone features fixed on you, he grasps your wrist, tight, and drags you to the dance floor. he was determined to get this dance. you stumble along behind him like an uncertain puppy dog, looking around. “Mister Wayne, I really shouldn’t…”

“It’ll only be one dance.” he says, matter of factly, pulling you close to his body. you hit his surprisingly solid chest with a huff of surprise, blinking. impressive.

“Everyone’s staring at us.” you mumble, sheepish, feeling gazes of disapproval. you must’ve looked hilariously out of place out there, stumbling, clad in a server’s pantsuit, amidst the modelesque women in their long gowns and sparkling gems.

“So?”

“So…” you exhale, incredulously, “you might be used to that but I’m more of a fade in the background type of girl.”

Damian’s eyebrow arches, both hands firmly taking hold of your waist. “So then only look at me.” he commands, and you find yourself compelled to obey, eyeline drifting back to his. you reach up, carefully bringing your hands together at the nape of his neck. “And let them fade into the background.” you give a little nod, and he takes the lead.

your steps are clunky at best, and the heels weren’t helping, but instead of allowing yourself to overhear what the other guests had to say about your lack of skill, you simply watched Damian. his eyes would lock with yours every now and then, but mostly he studied your face, as if examining every pore. you noticed he didn’t even flinch when you stepped on his toes, which you did quite a bit. “Sorry.” you whisper, face heated.

“I knew you couldn’t dance already,” he replies, almost flippant.

“Then why did you want to—“

“Because you’re the only one here I want to dance with.” Damian cuts you off, holding you close to his body. whilst the other couples had fallen back into their own waltz, and their partners twirled them, you noticed Damian was holding you too tight to do that. as if he didn’t want to let you go, even for a second. “If that means you trip over my feet a little, I’m willing to deal with it.”

it takes you a moment to realize your mouth is hanging open, and you close it promptly, feeling flushed. what could you say to that?

“I kinda feel like I’m one wrong step away from breaking my ankle in these things.” you admit halfhearted, glancing towards your feet. whilst his move with such certainty, yours are awkward and unsteady. you give a little, awkward chortle.

Damian leans closer to you, so close that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. “I won’t let you fall. I’ve got you.”

there was something about him that was oddly charming. sure, he was incredibly blunt and, honestly, pretty rude, but when he ensured that he’d keep you upright, you believed him. and you felt a wave of relief washing over you. you hug closer to him, giving in to the urge to rest your cheek against his chest while you sway in tandem. his heartbeat was steady; in contrast to your thumping one, he seemed cool and collected. you wished he could give you pointers.

“What happens when the song ends?” you ask, almost fearful to do so. this already felt like some lucid dream that you might wake up from at any moment, the last thing you wanted to do was hurry it along. “Will you still have me?”

for a moment, Damian says nothing. his fingers lock at the small of your back, his chin resting atop the crown of your head. finally, when you’re ready to kick yourself for asking, he responds. “Yes. For as long as I can.”

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fierycosmos · 1 year

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“i can’t sleep without you anymore” w/ dick grayson <33

perfect time to use this gorgeous cover the group chat killed me with earlier 🥹

it was almost funny how Dick had spoiled you rotten so easily.

less than a year of living together and now you couldn’t even fall asleep unless he was in bed beside you, which, of course, was unfortunately rare. you understood that you couldn’t hog Nightwing all to yourself every single night ( even if you desperately wanted to ); Blüdhaven needed him, too. you would have to share.

so, you’d simply fell into the habit of waiting up for him.

the bed was already prepped— a fine nesting place for a bird and his baby, with mountains of pillows and a fluffy comforter that nearly swallowed you whole. Haley was a steely ball of fur in your lap, snoozing as she, too, awaits her daddy’s return. you busied yourself by playing with her soft, warm ears, flopping them over to one side and then the other, crooning about how she was the prettiest pupper you’d ever seen, until you hear the lock on the door click.

Haley leaps to her feet, tail swishing through the air a mile a minute, and you perk up, too, staring hopefully at the doorway until the familiar frame darkens it.

his smile is as bright as the stars in the sky, aquamarine eyes twinkling when he lays gaze on you perched and waiting for him. you push yourself on to your knees and crawl to the edge of the bed with a gleeful, “Dick!”

he exhales, stripping himself of his gear and kicking his boots aside, taking the briefest moment to lean over and peck the tip of your nose. “Now, honey, how many times have I told you that you don’t have to wait up for me? It’s late; aren’t you sleepy?” peeling out of his suit, tight enough to be a second skin, his body is angled partially towards you. it’s impossible not to stare at the rippling muscles dancing under his skin, even if you had seen him strip several times before.

“I’m actually not—“ but it was as if the mere mention of the word had brought on an exhaustion, and your body interrupts you with a breathy yawn, squinting your eyes, you plant your palm over your mouth to stifle it, “— that tired.”

Dick quirked a brow, pulling on a pair of faded sweatpants, “Oh? Are you sure about that?” he teases, moving closer. he smells like the city, which isn’t necessarily a good thing. sweat and the docks, maybe even gunpowder, but you didn’t want to waste another minute that you could be wrapped in his strong embrace.

“Fine, maybe I’m a little bit tired.” you give in, peering up at him— your sparkling eyes lit up like Christmas trees. “But I have to wait on you to get home.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I can’t sleep without you anymore.” you answer, indignant. “I’m too used to your warmth, and the way you hold me. You can’t honestly expect me to be able to sleep alone now?”

a wide, amused smile was etching your boyfriend’s beautiful lips upwards and you feel the urge to kiss them. “Sounds to me like someone’s spoiled.” he replies, and you nod, poking your lower lip out into a cutesy pout. a look you knew he had a hard time resisting. “Mmhm, then c’mere,” he coos, snaking both arms around you midsection to pull you close to his body before he collapses on his back. you fall atop him, face finding its resting place on his subtly rising pectoral; your arms wrap around his torso and your legs loop around his, clinging to him. “Let me spoil you some more.”

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fierycosmos · 1 year

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“Stay with me just a little bit longer.” with Roy?

this one got pretty spicy but it’s still relatively fluffy!

“You’re staring.”

“Hard not to when you look so damn good.” Roy hums a reply as his thick, calloused hands grip both of your hips. he doesn’t seem to mind that you were zipping up your boot, because he carelessly pulls your buttocks back to hold you against him.

“Roy.” you warn, trying to sound as stern as possible as you look over your shoulder up at him, but the way he held you made it hard to keep your walls up.

he clearly decides to ignore your warning and toys with the silver batons strapped to your hips, sliding them up and down in their sheaths like a child occupying himself. “I’ve been thinking.” he says finally, looking at you through the mirror.

you quirk a brow, meeting his gaze in the glass. his olive eyes are twinkling. “Oh yeah? Don’t hurt yourself.” you tease, and you practically melt at the smirk that etches his lips up. he loved your attitude.

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious, babe.” he mutters, hands gliding up over the flare of your waist to urge you to straighten back against him. when you do, his powerful, inked arms coil around you to hug your smaller frame tight against his hardened chest. “You ever thought about ditching the Birds of Prey and doing stand up, instead?”

you giggle, holding your gloved hands over his forearms and nod playfully, “Thought you’d like that.”

Roy rolls his eyes, before leaning in to kiss that delicate, sweet spot on your throat that he always took advantage of. “Mm, but seriously…” your breath catches in your throat as you tilt your head, looking at him in the mirror— you can only see the crown of his head doused in wild, auburn curtains as he leaves a trail of saccharine pecks over your pulse point. “How pissed would Oracle be if you were just a little bit late?”

“Pissed.” you assure him, squeezing his forearms. “Considering this would be the second time this week.” you sigh, softly, “You know I have to go.”

“Right now?” he asks, experimentally sealing his open mouth over your pulse point. his tongue circles the rim his teeth creates.

collecting your lower tier with your teeth, you pull it into your lip with an wavering breath. “Right now.” you reply. you wished he would just let it go, let you win for once. but this was Roy fucking Harper, and he was one competitive bastard.

“C’mon, babe,” he whispers, lips releasing your neck in favor of teasing your earlobe whilst he encourages the worst type of hooky to play imaginable, “Stay with me.” you’re so close to breaking, and he can tell by the way you melt into his embrace. his palms splay out over your abdomen, fingertips pressing in to massage you through your skin tight suit.

“You’re not being fair.” you whine, tilting your head back against his clavicle and closing your eyes. “I should really…”

“Stay with me just a little bit longer.” he blows warm breath into your ear, before he nips at the lobe. “Then I’ll let you go save the city.”

you exhale, defeated, closing your eyes. “Fuck it.” Oracle would be livid, but you would worry about that later. cross that bridge, as they say. “One more hour.” you unbuckle the utility belt and your batons slide free of their sheaths, clattering muffled against the carpeted floor before you careen in his arms. he’s grinning, victoriously, down at you with emerald gems sparkling. “Wipe that look off your face, Speedy.” you tease, grabbing both sides of his neck to pull him in for a passionate kiss, “And take me back to bed.”

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