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timmydraker · 6 months ago

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Tim who’s a femme boy but not in a ‘skater skirt and thigh high socks’ kind of way.

No, he was raised by two people who value tradition and fashion, teaching him the ways of old money.

He watched his mother, who worked with woman who married into families and worse low cut dresses and diamond necklaces, hold the same power over men with only her wrist and head bare. He learnt that modesty was as equally powerful as nudity, that a woman could be devastating in any fabric if she out in the work.

Tim has always known he isn’t a woman, is comfortable being a man, but by all that’s natural does he not look at the way they dress and feel longing.

He’s twelve when he tries one of his mother’s dresses on for the first time.

It’s far too long, puddling at his feet, but he feels so beautiful in the mossy green fabric. The elbow length sleeves go to his wrist, but it still feels almost scandalous in a way that isn’t about the dress being on a boy.

He puts the dress away and begins to buy his own.

Naturally, he doesn’t risk his parents ire and keeps them hidden, but with them being gone so long it’s easy for him to spend some time by himself to dress up all he likes.

By the time he’s fourteen and has been around in for a while, he’s managed to go through a few different styles and find what truely feels like him.

He still wears his stupid science shirts and baggy hoodies over his formal dress shirts, it’s just that now he might add a simple long skirt instead of his dirty jeans. He won’t skate in a skirt, only because he doesn’t want to damage them and jeans are safer, but he also doesn’t leave the house in them for a while.

It’s not long after he’s recovered from Jason’s attack, his former idol still having trouble coming to terms with the lies he was told by the LOA, that he decides to see what Bruce thinks.

Ironically, it’s Jason that gave him the confidence.

Jason had made a comment when he was going on his rant to Tim about how Robin shouldn’t exist and he should get out, that he was warning the boy he should cut and run from Bruce. All he had said was that he was cutting his life short by being Robin and Tim felt that comment hit him harder than the bullet to his leg.

His time was short, most likely he would die before he got to marry or maybe even graduate (though he was considering dropping out anyway), so why hide?

Tim had been just about to get changed before he left to go see Bruce for a checkup on his mostly healed injuries when he caught his reflection and stopped.

The white shirt he wore was long sleeved and covered his neck, the buttons going up the front made of wood and shaped like hearts. His skirt, a dark brown flannel pattern prove that went just above his ankles, had a corset like fitting at the top that hugged his waist carefully. While he would prefer a more womanly figure, he wasn’t going to implement old Victorian body horror to get that.

Tim did go back to his room, but only to put on some simple heeled shoes of brown leather with a gold buckle on the side.

He put on a big shall over his shoulders, picking up his phone and putting on his headphones before he made the walk to Wayne Manor.

As usual, he didn’t need to knock as Alfred opened the door.

The man didn’t give any inkling as to surprise or shock at Tim’s outfit and simple said, “Glad to see you putting some effort into your appearance, Master Timothy.”

The snide comment made Tim relax greatly, quipping back about him being able to wear more than just jeans and t-shirts to the older man. The two talked normally and that made everything feel so much better than some grand speech on Tim accepted who he is.

Dick and Bruce are talking to each other in polite voices, both still a little awkward with each other even if they have gotten better, and both turn to great Tim as he enters the dining room for dinner.

Bruce looks shocked, showing he isn’t feeling too much like Batman at the moment, but he covers it up and says nothing and lets Dick speak.

Tim immediately feels stupid as Dick walks up to him with a big smile and opens arms, because Dick Grayson was raised in a circus! If anyone was going to accept ‘oddities’ in the family it would be him, “Timmy! Oh my little baby, you look so good! What’s the occasion? Oh! Do you have a date?”

His brothers teasing mg tone at the end makes him smile and shove him gently. “Not a date or anything else, I just… thought I’d wear something more my style out for once.”

Dick beamed, hearing the unspoken confession of trust and picking his brother up and spinning him around, “Oh, Timmyyyy! My baby, you look so beautiful! You can wear whatever you want, all the time, anywhere! I’ll will straight up eat anyone who has a problem, I swear I will do it, just say the word-“

Bruce finally talks just to cut Dick off, “Dick, no ‘eating’ anyone who hurts your bother. A lawsuit will surfice.”

Tim can’t help but beam at Bruce, knowing full well that those words are his weird way of showing his approval and acceptance. Him being more forward with it would have been nicer, but he was the most fluent in the language of Bruce Wayne outside of Alfred and so he was okay with it.

Dick went to whine, acting like a spoilt child while he secretly raged inside that he was being told not to commit a violent act. Honestly, Tim wasn’t sure if it was because it was in defence of his brother or because Dick was always secretly searching for something to get aggressive with.

Tim smiled happily, taking off his shawl and thanking Alfred when he swooped in to take it away for him.

As Tim sat at the table, he felt a peace build in his heart that he hadn’t felt… well, ever.

#batfam #tim drake #bat family #dc comics #batfamily #dc universe #dc #tim drake is red robin #tim drake is a menace #femme tim drake #fem tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #nighwing #Batman #batman and robin #red robin #cross dressing

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enwoso · 6 days ago

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we are the champions | alessia russo x child!reader x leah williamson

the highly anticipated one:) and a one long fic as people wanted. may do another one with the homecoming we’ll see

grumpy masterlist

the final whistle blew like a bullet through the lisbon sky.

arsenal women were champions of europe. for the second time.

alessia dropped to her knees on the pitch, emotion swallowing her whole. around her, the world turned gold, white and red, confetti blasting from cannons, teammates screaming, flares lighting up the estádio da luz in a halo of red and white.

they had done it. they had actually done it.

leah was the first to reach alessia, grabbing her in a bear hug, burying her face in her neck.

"we've actually done it," leah whispered, half-laughing through tears, the words feeling weird coming from her lips. "like we are actually european champions, less. what is life"

alessia laughed, clinging back as she placed a kiss to leah's cheek. "i don't think it's going to feel real for a few weeks."

leah smiled, eyes not leaving alessia's. the stadium behind them beginning to feel quieter, as if it was empty.

"i love you, less" leah whispered as she leaned i, slowly, like she wanted to give alessia the time to stop her — though they should have with the amount of camera fleeing around them but they both know they wouldn't. not in this moment.

leah's hand found alessia's waist, grounding them for a second while the other brushed gently against alessia's jaw, thumb tracing the curve of her cheek.

their lips meeting in a kiss that was soft and steady, unhurried. leah kissed her like she was trying to tell her everything she felt but couldn't say all at once.

alessia melted into it, her fingers curling into the back of leah's jersey - not because of heat or urgency but because of everything underneath it. love. relief. the quiet certainty that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

as they pulled apart, foreheads touching as they stood smiling like idiots. their joy was interrupted by beth sliming into them like a human bowling ball, as caitlin followed in pursuit the two laughing and whistling widely.

not far behind was kyra and steph dancing as katie was stood ruling the fans up as they chanted louder with each wave of the arms.

and somewhere between all the chaos and celebration, alessia's eyes searched for her person, other than leah.

and then—there.

by the touchline, just behind the led boards and camera flashes, was a tiny figure in an arsenal shirt with matching shorts and socks.

you. just five years old. face painted with red and white stripes that your nonna had done this morning, your curls bouncing, big blue eyes wide with glee. on your back: RUSSO 23 in thick black letters.

you'd been waiting for the chance to see your mummy, having not seen her properly since she left for the flight to lisbon on friday, hugging her one last time before she left you with your grandparents.

and now here you were, bouncing in place, fists pumping in the air like you'd won the trophy yourself.

"MUMMY!" you shrieked. alessia was on her feet and running before she even knew it. you launched yourself forward like a cannonball, nearly knocking your mummy over with the sheer force of her hug.

"i saw you get you m-medal," you gasped. "and- and you got to touch the shiny thing"

alessia laughed as she corrected you gently telling you that the 'shiny thing' was the trophy, before kissing your face over and over. "you watched the whole time?"

"i only blinked for snacks! but i saw everything!"

leah arrived moments later having been pulled to do a short press interview, smiling so brightly it hurt. leah pressed a kiss to alessia's temple and ruffled your hair as you hugged your mama.

"rumour has it you led chants in the stands," leah said as you nodded proudly. "well at least that's what uncle gio is spreading."

"i did!" you nodded proudly. "also had to make sure nonna and uncle g were cheering loud enough!'"

alessia blinked before a chuckle escaped her lips, the scene playing in her head so vividly. "good, you keep them in check lovie."

the three of you barely had time to breathe before beth reappeared, chloe in tow, both of them wielding medals like party favors.

"there she is! wondered when tiny was gonna make an appearance!" chloe smiled as she ruffled your hair, the winger placing herself between leah and alessia.

you beamed and held your arms up dramatically. "auntie lolo!" as chloe took you from your mums arms you giving chloe a warm hug.

"alright, tiny," katie shouted from across the pitch, charging toward them with a wild grin and the champions league trophy hoisted above the irish girls' head. "let's keep the cheers goin'!"

before anyone could react, katie kelt down, hoisted you onto her shoulders, and took off in a jog toward the centre circle, yelling like she was leading a viking raid.

leah's hand went to her head. "she's on katie's shoulders. should we be worried?"

"probably. but katie will keep her safe," alessia smirked. "and anyways lovie is basically built for chaos."

from halfway across the pitch, katie shouted, "CHLOE! YOU'RE ON VOCALS!"

chloe, never one to miss a chance to celebrate— ran after the two of you , waving her arms like a conductor. "let's GO!"

suddenly the lisbon night filled with voices — well, mostly shouting and off-key singing — as you, katie, and chloe launched into the loudest, most off-beat rendition of sweet caroline the stadium had ever heard.

"SO GOOD! SO GOOD!"

"MEATBALL LINE!" you yelled instead of 'sweet caroline'

katie didn't blink before joining in. "YES, MEATBALL LINE!"

"STINA STINA STINA STINA STINA" chloe chanted as the song changed, the fans joining in as stina was pushed forwards by the girls.

"BLACKSTENIUS!" you and katie responded continued the chant both hands in the air.

"SHE SCORES THE GOALS!"

"she scored the gooooaaalllls!" you screamed, arms in the air

alessia was bent over with laughter and awe watching you have so much fun. "oh my god. she's high on sugar and glory." leah was already making a mental note to pre-warn your teachers about the post-title behaviour for the next time she dropped you off.

the performance ended in classic mccabe fashion: a dramatic twirl that nearly sent chloe crashing, a fake mic drop with the match ball, and you collapsing in theatrical fashion onto the turf where all the confetti was, giggling and yelling, "THANK YOU LISBON!"

katie knelt down and gently lowered you off her shoulders. "you alright, tiny?"

you nodded, cheeks flushed as the confetti covered you as it tickled your bare legs "when i grow up, i'm gonna be a footballer and a singer and also be you."

katie grinned and saluted you. "you can stick around kiddo!"

the team gathered for photos, pulling you into every single one like you had made the final assist.

you held the trophy with alessia and leah, getting the perfect photos which would litter christmas cards for years to come as you inspected the trophy, "mummy! this would be the perfect for my coco pops!" you pointed at the trophy which in the middle was bowl shaped.

alessia laughed as she ruffled your hair, your innocence being too cute. "i- i think it's little too big to keep in the kitchen cupboard, don't you?"

you frowned slightly but the thought was long forgotten as your name was being called by beth, you rushing after her as you managed to steal her medal and make kyra give you a piggyback as steph braided ribbons into your curls as beth stole her medal back.

but eventually, the stadium lights began to dim and fans started to drift away. but on the pitch, under the lingering lisbon stars, the russo-williamson family found a pocket of quiet.

you had flopped into your mummy's lap, shoes long gone, holding your mummy's medal like it was excalibur.

"you tired now, angel?" leah asked softly, as you lay your head in her lap, your legs stretching onto your mummy's the bottom of your socks stained green.

"mm-hmm," you yawned. "but 'm not gonna sleep."

"no?"

"i gotta remember everything so i can tell everyone at school that my mummy and mama won the champions league and i sang on tv and auntie katie nearly head butting the wall."

"but i didn't though-" katie yelled from ten feet away. "i was sliding as a champion should!"

"you would have if leah hadn't have been in the way" kyra added helpfully. you giggled, eyes fluttering closed as leah stroked your hair.

"m' gonna show them all my medal and say, 'this was from my mummy and also 'm famous now.'”

leah smiled, reaching for alessia's hand. their fingers intertwined, their medals glinting in the soft lights.

"we did it," alessia whispered the words still feeling so weird coming from their lips.

leah looked at alessia. then at you. then back at the now-empty stands that had roared for them just hours ago. "yeah," she said. "we really did."

a trophy. a daughter. a dream come true. and, of course — one unforgettable performance of meatball line.

⸻

the party was already in full swing when the lift doors opened to the rooftop venue.

lisbon sparkled below them like a dream wrapped in gold foil. music pulsed through the warm night air, the city celebrating with them, as though it too had been part of arsenal's historic win.

inside, the team were already letting loose — champagne flying, dj spinning early 2000s bangers, medals clinking like party jewellery. the champions league trophy sat proudly on a plinth, already kissed, cradled and used as a makeshift hat.

alessia stepped into the chaos with you on her hip, changed into pyjamas except you insisted on wearing your arsenal shirt. leah followed, holding three drinks and already tipsy enough to be doing finger guns at nobody in particular.

"alright," leah grinned, "who's ready to celebrate like champions?"

"MUMMY!" you gasped, pointing at the dance floor. "katie's got the trophy and she's using it like a guitar!"

"she's had one drink and decided she's freddie mercury," alessia muttered although she couldn't stop the smile on her lips from appearing.

you were off your mummy's hip in seconds, beelining to the centre of the chaos where chloe, beth and kyra were trying to teach manu the macarena. katie was indeed shredding the air guitar solo with the champions league trophy and yelling "what the hell, what the helly" every ten seconds.

alessia and leah made their way to a quieter corner where their families had gathered. hug after hug. proud tears. leah's mum handed them both drinks like she'd been preparing for this moment since the group stages.

"champion's league winner," alessia's dad, mario said for the third time. "so proud of you less.”

"hope to never hear the end of it," gio chimed in, grinning at his sister. "might have to buy her a crown next."

leah laughed, draping herself across alessia's shoulder. "please do. i'll get her to wear it to breakfast."

a few drinks later, you had turned into the unofficial dj mascot — bouncing with beth and chloe, singing along to every song you didn't know the words to with absolute conviction.

but eventually, you took a break and plopped yourself down in a giant beanbag near the edge of the terrace — curly hair wild, cheeks pink, arsenal medal which was your mummy's swinging around your neck like a gold dinner plate.

your uncle gio dropping down beside you with a packet of crisps and a smirk. you both watched the dance floor as your mummy and beth attempted a tiktok routine, failing gloriously. leah was waving her medal like a lasso as katie was dancing with the trophy in one hand and a cocktail in the other like it was her child.

"they look a bit silly, don't they?" gio said in a stage whisper.

you giggled into your fries. "mummy's doing the wrong arms. and auntie bethy is singing at the wrong time"

"they look like baby giraffes trying to moonwalk," gio nodded. "but with glitter."

"mama was dancing earlier and said 'oof my hips' like she was old."

"that's because she is," gio winked jokingly as you stopped mid drink of your juice.

you gasped like he'd committed treason. "mama is not! she just creaks a little."

the two of you carried on watching as chloe attempted to pick up kyra for no apparent reason and immediately stumble into a table. "this party's wild," you declared wisely.

"this party," gio said, "is what happens when you give medals to people with work hard all season long."

"i like it."

"me too. but i think mummy has just tried to conga with a sandwich."

you both clinked juice boxes like critics at a cabaret. you leaned your head onto your uncle gio's shoulder for a second and said, "i think i'm famous now."

"oh, no question," he said. "you're already trending. probably."

but even chaos has its limits. by around half eleven, levitating blasted through the speakers again, and you — not one to be left out of a final banger — launched yourself back into the dance floor for one more spin.

one jump. two twirls. a victorious hop. and then, mid-wiggle, you slowly... lowered yourself to the floor, curled into a cushion, and fell completely, utterly asleep.

face down. arms flopped out. medal still around your neck, one croc on, one croc long gone. just out cold, right next to the trophy stand, as if you'd clocked off from being a legend.

"she's down!" beth called. "star of the show has left the building!"

alessia was already on her way, laughing as she bent to pick you up. "alright, little dancer. time to cash in your medal and sleep like a champ."

you didn't even stir. just let out a tiny sigh and snuggled into your mummy's arms like you'd done it all — lifted the trophy, saved the day, sang sweet caroline, and roasted everyone in the room.

leah joined the two of you on the quieter part of the terrace. someone on the way handed her a blanket, which alessia has draped over you and alessia as you sat on a cushioned bench under fairy lights.

"you good?" leah asked, curling beside them.

"i'm knackered," alessia said. "but happy. she's had the best night ever."

"she was the best part of my night," leah said. "even when she called you a noodle."

alessia groaned. "that's gio's fault."

"but she's not wrong though." they both laughed, gazing down at you, their whole world— cheeks rosy, medal slipping sideways around your neck, dreaming gold.

lisbon glittered around the three of you. music still played, but softer now. the team still swirled in celebration. but here, in this little pocket of peace, everything felt still.

⸻

the terminal smelled like coffee and regret.

leah leaned against a check-in kiosk wearing sunglasses indoors and holding a bottle of orange lucozade like it contained the secrets of the universe.

her medal was still around her neck, her hair a little messy in a bun, and her voice about three octaves lower than usual.

next to her, alessia looked like she'd lost a fight with this morning and had accepted her fate. she wore an arsenal hoodie two sizes too big (possibly leah's) hair scraped into a messy bun, and the unmistakable glaze of someone running on two hours' sleep and a cocktail made by chloe in a the trophy.

but in alessia's arms: you, dead silent, wide-eyed, and attached to your mummy like a sleepy koala bear. your curls were a mess, alessia doing your hair on the bus into a bun as you were dressed in a fresh pair of pyjamas

"she won't let me put her down," alessia whispered hoarsely, shifting the you slightly in her arms. "i tried once. she just screamed 'no mummy forever' and latched onto my neck like a vampire."

leah snorted and then winced. "ow. laughing hurts."

you turned your head. "no laughing. only snuggling." a beat passed. then leah felt a soft tug at her sleeve. you reached for her with both arms. "mummy switch. i want mama now."

so the handoff began — slow-motion, careful, like passing a bag of eggs, you now firmly climbing onto leah's front, arms wrapped around your mama like a human scarf. alessia groaned and rubbed her shoulder.

"my child is a barnacle."

"you're her whole world," Leah said.

"she's a twenty-kilo world with sharp elbows."

around them, the rest of the arsenal squad began to emerge from the coach in clumps — zombies in various forms of hangover and tiredness, herded by a very tired club staff who looked one bad joke away from quitting football forever.

beth walked past muttering, "i need paracetamol, sunglasses, and god," holding a water bottle like it owed her money.

steph and caitlin were quietly arguing about whether they'd packed their chargers. kyra was just standing in the middle of the airport hood up and sunglasses on, like she'd either forgotten how to go about life or she was just stood up asleep.

katie stumbled toward sunglasses tightly on her face, carrying the trophy, a neck pillow and backpack across her shoulder. "i swear i had a suitcase," she said to no one in particular, instead just to anyone who would listen.

"you left it on the bus," chloe mumbled behind her, chewing gum and wearing two pairs of sunglasses stacked like goggles.

katie turned. "do i at least have my passport?"

chloe checked her pocket. "i think you gave it to the trophy." no one questioned that.

"alright, alright," on of the staff member called out, clapping their hands. "let's move, champions. you're elite athletes, not a hen do in dublin."

"speak for yourself," katie said, and immediately tripped over a suitcase.

you, still clinging to leah like a sleepy tree frog, blinked slowly and whispered, "why everyone broken?"

"cause we had fun," alessia whispered, gently tucking a curl behind your ear.

"too much fun?"

"never but just enough."

they eventually made it through security, where you refused to go through the metal detector without one of your mums. the airport security just sighed. it ended in leah carrying you through like a small, suspiciously sparkly handbag.

at the gate, the squad collapsed into chairs like a deck of cards thrown on the floor. headphones in. hoods up. sunglasses on. nobody speaking above a whisper.

the champions league trophy was in its own seat, secured with a seatbelt and guarded by beth like it was a newborn baby.

you finally agreed to sit across both your mummy's and mama's laps like a bridge — head on one, feet on the other — eyes half-closed.

alessia pressed a kiss to your forehead. "tired now, lovie?"

you nodded slowly. "my legs feel like noodles."

"you and me both angel," your mama murmured, gently squeezing your little foot.

across the aisle, katie was asleep on caitlin's shoulder, clutching a bag of crisps like a teddy bear. kyra had fallen asleep mid-text with her phone resting on her face.

and somewhere near the back, alessia exhaled, one arm wrapped around you, the other tucked into leah's. the flight hadn't even taken off, and already, she felt the weight of it all hit her.

the trophy. the dancing. the singing. the way you had shouted "we're the champions" into katie's ear while sitting on her shoulders. the way leah had held her hand the whole walk to the hotel, the two of them laughing at nothing.

it had been magic. and now, in the grey haze of the morning after, there was just this:

a team of sleepy champions. a tiny medal-wearing daughter. and the soft, breathy sound of the people she loved most breathing beside her.

"less?" leah murmured, half-asleep already.

"yeah?"

"if she falls asleep again on me and drools, i'm not moving."

"she's already drooling," alessia whispered gently.

you grunted. "i can hear you." and then promptly fell asleep again — cheeks smushed against leah's hoodie, medal gently clinking, safe within arms reach.

lisbon was behind them. the trophy was theirs. the memories were golden. and the hangovers?

totally worth it.

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