#Red Robin x y/n

[bunny-twirl]

Tim: Are you hungry?

Y/N: Tim... It's 3AM.

Y/N: ...

Y/N: Yeah, I'm hungry.

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter one: on my way to circle k

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.3k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

The Slurpee machine is broken again. 

It isn’t that big of an issue, not particularly world-ending, no, especially since you get regularly held at gunpoint (or knifepoint) and occasionally used as a hostage. 

But for you, working the night shift from eleven PM to seven AM, you kind of need the sugar boost. The Slurpees are easier on your stomach than the coffee is. Even if they do stain your mouth. 

You sigh, continuing to stare at the machine; it whirs and sputters strangely and you set aside the cup to shut it off. You’ll also need to file the paperwork for it to be fixed. That seriously blows. 

You get it unplugged just as the gust of wind hits. 

You stumble. Shelves groan in protest. Several rows of granola bars and trail mix are sent flying. 

Oh, great, who is it now—

You hear your name in a question, from a very familiar voice. 

You spit out a mouthful of your hair. “Flash?”

Sure enough, in the flesh, the Flash grins at you, blue lightning fading from his body. He spreads his arms as he exclaims your name again.

In a blink, he is there, arms wrapping around you, lifting you off the ground as he squeezes the life out of you. Another blink and you’re on the ground, looking at him, his hand on your shoulder. 

“Look at you, kid. It’s good to see you. I can’t believe you’re still working here.”

A stupid grin forms on your lips. “It’s not the same here without you eating up our inventory.”

He laughs. “I bet!”

You shake your head, fixing your hair and your shirt. Flash notices the state of the granola bars and trail mix, sends you an apologetic smile, and in the next blink, they are back on the shelves, neatly arranged. 

“So, what brings you here? If you can answer that.”

He waves a hand, flitting around, emptying the sausage grill and making himself several hot dogs. 

“One of the rogues got a little, shall we say, ambitious and wanted to try his luck here. Just trying to snatch him up before Batman finds out.”

“Let me guess—Trickster?”

He points a hot dog loaded with mustard and ketchup at you. “Bingo.”

“It’s dripping.”

“Aw, shit.” He shoves the rest of the hot dog in his mouth, grabs a napkin, and starts dabbing at the spot of mustard on his suit. 

You watch him, amused, but also morbidly fascinated as usual at seeing him eat so much. When he finishes the hot dogs, he goes for the pizza. It makes sense when you think about it, that a guy who can run faster than the speed of light should need to eat so much, but it’s been a while since you’ve had the pleasure of watching him refuel. Six months, actually, since you returned from Keystone City. 

You scratch your head. “I’m not sure why Trickster would want to come here. Batman, I think, is a worse punishment than you—”

“Agree, even if that’s also a little insulting to me.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. You’re avoiding him, aren’t you?”

Flash nods. “This is true. Carry on.”

“Well… Gotham already has a joke-themed guy. I don’t think Joker is going to take too kindly to someone encroaching on that. Unless he’s back in Arkham. Though he might’ve escaped again…”

“Y’see, that’s what I thought. It’s gonna sound bad, too, but I’m kinda hoping those two take care of each other, then I can get Trickster back to Iron Heights without any issues. But—”

You crack a smile, guessing his next words immediately. “When is it ever that easy?”

You had once believed the Flash to be just about infallible. After all, he is the Flash. This is the guy who, like you said, can run faster than the speed of light. He can canvas a city in under a minute. That’s how he takes care of Central City and Keystone City. (Well, the addition of the other Flash and Kid Flash probably help, too, but you know.)

But it’s not that easy. It’s why, you think, Metropolis has issues, even when they have Superman. 

No rest for the wicked and all. 

“Well, it’s still good to see you,” you say, a tad more hesitantly this time. Unsure if you can say that. 

Flash looks back at you, sending you a warm smile. “It’s good to see you, too. How’s school?”

“No classes now. Financial aid doesn’t cover the summer, so.”

He frowns. “You’re still on track to graduate next year, though, right?”

You pause, surprised he remembered you saying that. “Yeah, yeah, I am.” 

Flash nods, worries assuaged, then his gaze strays to the Slurpee machine, its lights turned off. “Aw, it’s not working?”

“Not today, sorry.”

He purses his lips, head tilting as he looks at the counter where the machine and your abandoned cup are. 

“Wait a second,” he says, then the food that was in his hands is on the counter and he’s gone with arcs of blue lightning following him, a tingly feeling spreading through your fingertips and toes, like when you used to be a kid and dragged your hands across those old TV screens, feeling the static. 

True to his word, in the next second, he is in front of you, two Slurpees in hand. One blue raspberry and another cherry. 

You grin as he proudly presents the blue raspberry Slurpee to you. 

“Thanks.”

He winks. “My pleasure.”

He collects his food again then gestures to the front with his head. Sipping at the ice-cold Slurpee, you follow him, sliding behind the counter.

“Time to head off?” you guess, ringing up the food he already ate, then the rest of the stuff. 

He slips out a few bills from a hidden pocket at his hip. “Yeah, I need to go before—”

“Flash!” The door opens roughly. You balk as you see who it is. “Seriously? You can’t just run off. You’re just as bad as Impulse sometimes, I swear.”

Red Robin stands there, hands on his hips, scowling, doing a good impression of a teacher scolding a student, which is really weird for you, since you’ve always held a good dose of fear and respect for the Bats and this doesn’t really… go on par with that. And also, you’re pretty sure Flash is older than him. 

Flash frowns. “Now that’s seriously uncalled for. I’m much better than he is. We were done talking, weren’t we? You’d call me if you found anything and it’s not like it would take me time to get there, would it?”

Red Robin doesn’t respond to that, mostly because he’s looking at you now. You’ve never seen him up close — any of them up close. Black fair falls sharply over his forehead, a black domino mask hiding his eyes. Not like a normal one; this one allows for more coverage under his eyes, going down to his nose, the end of which curves in a way reminiscent of a bird. But under the bright fluorescents of Circle K, everything else is easy to make out. Pale skin, a sharp jaw, a soft-looking mouth. 

Great. He’s hot. And something else… something that niggles at you. Familiar in a way that bothers you because you’ve never seen him in person. Not like this. 

You swallow nervously, giving him a half-hearted wave. The action jars him and he looks away from you quickly. 

“Hey, don’t be mean to her,” Flash chides. “Seriously. Look at her. You’ve made her nervous.”

“Flash.”

He shoots you a troublesome grin. “Nah, don’t worry about him, kid. He’s harmless.”

“Flash,” Red Robin hisses out, his voice sounding stranger than before, modulated, in a way. 

You compose yourself, giving Flash a look. “You know better than that. Perception means everything.”

“That is true,” he says. “But believe me. If fear worked as well as they’d like it to, Gotham would be the safest city in the country.”

A long-suffering sigh. Red Robin is turned away now and by the movement of his arm, pinching the bridge of his nose, exasperated. 

“Hey, I’m not wrong,” he says to him, even despite you silently waving for him to drop it. “Look, fear is fine and all. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with nurturing relationships with the people you protect. That’s what I did with you, isn’t it, kid?”

“Yeah, but I’m also not, you know, from there…”

He collects his change. “Which is why it’s even more embarrassing that these guys make you nervous and I don’t.”

Red Robin huffs. 

Flash shrugs, smirking. “Just food for thought. I’ll see you around, yeah, kiddo? Gotta get going before this guy gets annoyed enough to just tell Batman about me and then I’ll really have problems.”

Then he’s gone, blue lightning arcing in his wake. Red Robin sighs again and leaves without a word or backward glance. 

You stand there for a minute, unsure if that really happened. But the signature Slurpee cup of blue raspberry, already sweating because the June heat in Gotham is unbearable and the AC is not up to task, assures you very much that that did just happen.

A little unsteady, you take a seat on the stool, shaking your head and dragging the cup to you. 

At least you got to see Flash again.

You don’t see him again, which is what you expected. 

What you don’t expect is the appearance of Red Robin the next night. 

You’ve grown up in Gotham City. Like anyone else, you have a healthy dose of fear and respect for the vigilantes that prowl the shadows. You also, unlike Vicki Vale or any journalist or obsessive conspiracy theorist, have absolutely zero interest in interacting with them. 

Usually, interacting with them means you are in grave danger. 

(You had to unlearn some of that during your brief tenure in Keystone City; the Flash was a little bit different from them. Maybe more than a little bit…)

So, when Red Robin shows up at Circle K at half past one in the morning, you are… a tad wary. 

It doesn’t help that he seems awkwardly frozen, too, as your voice catches in the middle of your perfunctory Hi, welcome in as you realize who it is. 

For a minute, it is painfully, painfully quiet. 

“Is there something—”

“Do you have any—”

You both stop. You purse your lips. Red Robin is… blushing a little bit? Holy shit.

“Go ahead,” he says, clearing his throat after. His voice still sounds off like yesterday—modulated.

You grimace. “Sorry, I was just asking if there was something going on? Should I lock down the shop or hide or something?”

He looks briefly confused. “No? I mean, no… Everything is fine. I was just wondering if you guys had any, uh—” he seems to falter, scrambling a little bit “—hot… chocolate?”

Hot chocolate in June? What a weirdo.

You keep your face straight, though. 

Flash might’ve let you off the hook when it came to formalities but you’d be an idiot to think you could get away with that with these guys. 

He exhales the briefest laugh at something, then—you, you realize, your expression, which should be perfectly polite, what the hell. He turns his head away as a smile curls his lips. That niggling feeling—which began as soon as you realized he was here—strengthens. You push it away for a second.

“I know. Late night. Don’t like coffee, so it’s a good alternative.”

How did he—? 

Must be the detective thing.

You apologize anyway. 

“Sorry. My, uh, friend’s like that, in a way,” you say, your tongue again moving faster than your brain can grapple with. He won’t care about the fact that your friend, Tim, is like that, too. Well, Tim likes the occasional energy drink if he’s staying up late because he doesn’t like coffee. Not this hot chocolate business. But maybe? Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually. Probably better than Red Bull, even if he doesn’t drink it often, maybe once or twice a month. And, anyway, it’s not the point. This guy doesn’t care. He probably couldn’t care less. You’re just trying to show him—oh, it doesn’t matter. This entire thing has gone straight to shit. All because he managed to read your judgment.

“Oh?” It’s a question but it’s a bit strangled. See? He doesn’t care. Poor guy. Probably trying to think of a way to get out of this. Well, you’ll do him one better. 

“Uh, yeah… he’s—well. Doesn’t matter. Yeah, the machine is working. It’s over there.” 

“Thanks.”

You nod and glance away, leaving him to cross to the other side of the store. You can’t help but watch him go, watching the way the heavy black cape swishes with his movements, boots soundless on the shitty tiled floors. He disappears behind the shelf, but his head is visible. A head of dark, dark hair that seems… familiar to you.

Ugh. What is with you?

It’s Red freakin’ Robin. You’ve glimpsed him and the others briefly. Shadows in the night, swinging from buildings, jumping from rooftops. Anybody who lives in Gotham long enough has seen the same. Doesn’t mean you know him enough to be this way, to be so bothered by something that won’t even come to mind.

You shake your head briefly. 

You should think more on why he’s even here.

Though, it seems obvious, given what happened yesterday night.

Flash has a way of getting beneath your skin and inciting the most childish tendencies. You imagine his little comment about trust between vigilante and citizen bothered Red Robin.

Well, rest assured, you understand the position they are in. You enjoyed the way Flash visited you but they can’t afford that. Perception is gold. It is true, in some ways, that if it were as effective as they wanted it to be, Gotham would be less crime-ridden than it currently is. 

(But that was also a conundrum with the corrupt government. So long as the systems were in place, crime would always happen, and it would take more than the Bats to fix that.)

Either way, they cannot afford for that mask to slip—metaphorically and literally.

There is a level of trust, you think, between the Bats and the people but… it’s not the same kind Flash fosters with his own. 

You feel obligated to let Red Robin know that, with that, he has no obligation to do anything out of the ordinary. 

So, that’s what you do when he comes back over to the counter, two small cups of hot chocolate in hand.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He turns forward with a five dollar bill in hand. “I can’t just not pay—”

“I’m not talking about that.” 

He is paying. You are moderately appreciative of what they do but not that appreciative. 

“So, what else is it that I don’t have to do?”

You gesture between you two. “This. Come here to try and prove the Flash wrong.”

“I’m not—”

You try to level with him. 

“It’s cool, man. He can be annoying. Annoying enough that he could make anyone want to prove him wrong. I get it. But he’s also a little bit of a doof when it comes to matters of the public. Though I’m betting he was trying to aggravate you more than anything. Either way, I get it. You have an image to keep up. Do what you have to do.”

“So, you don’t want me to come back?” Not an accusation. A genuine question.

You blink. “That’s not what I said. I don’t mind. I’m just… letting you know.”

“What do you know about it, anyway? Upholding an image? You seem very confident on the do’s and don’ts, despite being a civilian.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You guys actually refer to us non-vigilantes as civilians? Like, unironically?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you with the emotionless white lids of the domino mask, lips pressed in a line.

You smile and roll your eyes, finally taking his five and opening the register. “I’m majoring in communication with a concentration in PR. Did an internship at Quickstart Enterprises last semester working with their PR department. You can say I know a thing or two about it.”

“What year?”

“Just finished my third. Starting my final in the fall. Look, I’m not saying you have to take my advice, I just wanted you to know. That’s all. I’m not holding it against you.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

You slide his change to him. “That’s all I ask.”

He picks up the cups, says, “Keep the change,” and then, he’s gone, dark cape fluttering, his figure swallowed up by the darkness of the night. 

The only traces of his presence is the door slowly closing and the change still sitting on the counter.

These hero-types and their dramatic exits. Honestly. 

You meet the Flash in your second week of work at Circle K.

The stipend from QE covered your housing and groceries but didn’t allow for much options regarding the latter. At least not the fresh produce kind. 

So, you picked up a job at Circle K. Part-time only, which worked well with the schedule you had at QE. You typically worked evenings—not the graveyard shift you do now, which you took only because it paid better during the night—so from seven to eleven. 

The Flash was different from the Bats in that regard. While Signal worked during the day, the rest of them worked during the night. 

Flash told you he liked sleep, so he would take care of things during a reasonable hour in the evening to accommodate that, which meant you were beheld to his presence. 

Frequently.

And the first time…

You have no idea what to make of the superhero currently raiding the sausage grill.

A larger part of you is suspicious, hoping that the Flash isn’t about to come up to you and say something arrogant about not being required to pay. A lot of the cops you get say something to that effect. It takes so much willpower in you to not roll your eyes. 

But another part of you right now, the Tim part of your brain, is fascinated. Wants to ask some geeky questions about his power. Presumably, the fact that he is the fastest man alive means he has to eat a lot to sustain it, right?

Well. That one is a bit self-explanatory. At least if the way he’s stuffing his face tells you anything.

Suspicion wins out, though.

Keystone City is a nice enough city. Central City, across the river, is the same. They aren’t Gotham, that’s for sure, and sometimes you don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. 

It’s mostly that Keystone City is situated in Kansas and across the Mississippi, in Mississippi, is Central City. These regions of the country, historically conservative, make you a bit tetchy. Not at all helped by the fact that for a very long time, Keystone City was suspended in the fifties. Or rather, what they thought were the fifties. Time passed normally outside of it until the Flash fixed everything.

It gives Keystone an aesthetic old-timey vibe to it but with all the modern luxuries of the late 2010s, like phones and, you know, civil rights. 

But things have been okay, for the most part. The people you encounter here at Circle K are amiable enough. (Well, except for the cops you get. You could go without dealing with those idiots.)

Though, admittedly, between work for QE and here and trying to keep yourself fed and (mostly) rested, you haven’t gotten out much.

The Flash, though… you haven’t directly encountered him. Not in your few weeks here. Sometimes when walking to the subway, you feel the sharp gust of wind, commonly associated with him as he makes his way through the city faster than a speeding bullet, glass windows and cars rattling dangerously in the aftermath of his path. On the news, when he takes down whichever rogue woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and in the newspaper. But nothing beyond that.

People speak fondly of him, for the most part. Rumors are solid sources of information but you just can’t help but be a little bit suspicious. There is such a thing as too good to be true, after all…

You reach for your half-empty cup of blue raspberry Slurpee. Though it’s the beginning of September, summer takes longer to leave the midwest, you’ve learned, and the summers here are loads worse than ones you’ve experienced in Gotham. 

Before you can even get your mouth around the red straw, a breeze hits and you blink, finding the Flash in front of you, depositing mostly empty cartons of hot dogs onto the counter, with a few of them still full. On their way to being empty, though, as he crams more into his mouth. A cup of cherry Slurpee finishes it off.

The Flash points a half-eaten hot dog at you. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m sorry?”

“No, no, not like that. You’ve just got this suspicion to you. This… paranoia. A paranoia that can only belong to someone from Gotham,” he says, nodding to himself. 

Well, that’s—

Hm.

A bit embarrassed to be caught out like that—because it isn’t the first time—you attempt to make up for it.

“I’m from Metropolis, actually.” 

Best to stay on the east coast. Even you couldn’t pass as someone from the west coast, like Star City or Coast City or something. 

Flash grins at you. “Liar.”

You aren’t used to this kind of playful banter. Certainly not from a literal superhero, from someone who regularly saves the world with the likes of Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman and more. You don’t think you expected the cold brutality the city gets from the Bats back home but… you didn’t expect this, either.

To get a much-needed sense of normalcy, you scan one of the hot dog cartons, adding them up on the screen.

“Was it that obvious? I wasn’t trying to be… I mean, I was, but, you know, I didn’t, um…”

You stop, cringing. Very eloquent and more than a little annoying, given your career choice. Can’t be like that when you get put on the spot. Even if it’s by a superhero. Especially if it’s by a superhero. Journalists are even worse, anyway…

“Relax, kid,” he laughs. “To tell you the truth, it was hard to miss but I’m sort of geared for that kind of thing, what with my choice in career.”

“Right.” You scan the Slurpee and take a drink of yours while he fiddles with some zipper in his suit. A deep red, with a purple tinge, a silver Flash symbol on his chest, and a cowl, but with the top free, showing off a shock of red hair, and his eyes still exposed. Pretty green.  

“But I do have an unfair advantage,” he goes on. “I see a similar look every time I have a League meeting.”

You blink. “The League…?”

“You should know. Your caped crusader, Batman. Of course, that’s also because he doesn’t like me—and the feeling is mutual, trust me—but, you know. Schematics. He sits right across from me and that’s all I get, this classic brand of Gothamite suspicion on top of the usual wordless Batman disapproval.”

“Should you be telling me that?”

He hands you a twenty. You pop open the register to break it. Another breeze hits and the empty cartons of hot dogs are shoved into the trash, with him eating the last one and on his way to finishing the large cup of cherry-flavored Slurpee. 

“I mean, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” you say lightly, calculating his change. “I could go to the press. Breaking News: Strife within the League. Tenuous relations between Batman and the Flash.”

“Oh, really?”

“That’s the press. A common dislike will absolutely turn into that in their headlines. They would take it and run.”

“That is true. You a journalist?” 

“Oh, no. Communications, with a concentration in public relations.”

Flash thinks on it for a second, finishing his hot dog, then the Slurpee. You partially expect him to get angry. It would be a justified reaction. He doesn’t know you and you don’t know him. You can admit that some of what you just said is a bit… imperious. Who are you to lecture him, right?

“You aren’t wrong,” he finally says, repeating his earlier words as the last hot dog carton and Slurpee cup disappear from the counter—thrown in the trash. 

“But,” he presses, accepting the change from you—a few dollars—then dropping it into your tip jar. “I know you aren’t going to take that to the press.”

“How’s that?” 

He points at you. “Because I don’t think you’re the kind of person to do that.”

“You’re appealing to my morals?”

“Yes. Is it working?”

“Not much work to be had,” you admit. “I was never going to. I was just…”

“Being nice and telling me I should watch what I say,” he finishes, grinning. “Which is true. All true. I just couldn’t help myself. What’s your name, kid?”

You tell him. He extends a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Keystone City. Hope you enjoy your stay.”

A bit bemused, you nod politely and say, “Thanks.”

Before he can say anything else, he visibly tenses, lifting a hand to the Hermes-like wings at his ears, then, in the next blink, he is gone, off to stop someone or something, leaving you with a sharp gust of wind that rattles the windows and knocks the candy from the shelves under the counter onto the ground.

Well, then.

Talk about a first impression. 

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[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

This devotion of yours is misplaced (but this love, perhaps, is not)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: reader is like vaguely injured, timmy is so in love and sooo crazy abt it, they sorta both are, idk this one's kinda intense guys there's a lot of love in it kinda felt like I was intruding when I wrote it

a/n: I'm so sorry but we're fast-forwarding to established relationship but I promise I'll get back to the pining of the past I just have the intense need to jump around timelines like a rabbit

There's a bulb in the light fixture above your bathroom sink that flickers, the yellow light hazing in and out while the others shine bright. You sit on the counter, leaning your back against your mirror as you cup a hand to your ribs protectively, watching Tim with hooded, lazy eyes. There's a set to his jaw, the muscles clenching as he moves around, pulling your first-aid kit out from under your sink.

You think back to the day he realized you didn't have one, his eyes wide as he spluttered out something about you needing one because what if you get hurt? You'd shot back that you'd always managed without one. He'd accused you of suffering for the sake of it - forsaking softness for the show of it. 

That had cut a bit too deep. He didn't apologize, but you didn't ask him to. The next morning, there was a first-aid kit sitting on your bathroom counter.

Tim's hands ghosting over your sides pulls you from the memory as you suck in a sharp breath. He winces apologetically and hooks a forefinger under your chin, tilting your head to wipe a disinfectant wipe over the cut on your cheek.

"You need to relax," you huff quietly. He shoots you a look.

"I don't like seeing you hurt."

"Then go somewhere else," you shoot back. You feel something that reminds you of a concussion you once had hazing through your mind - maybe if you hadn't, you'd have noticed the way he pulls back from you. You would've kept your mouth shut.

"You know that's not what I mean." There's a strain in Tim's voice that he only gets when he's trying to be good to you - when you're not letting him.

"I never know what you mean," you respond, and there's a tiredness in your voice that shouldn't be there. Tim's shoulders drop, his stance shifting as he looks at you. He's trying, you realize, to let himself be read. But acts of love like that are so often impossible for things like you and him.

"I would rather…" he begins slowly, eyes flitting around while he searches for the words. "I would rather, if you're hurting, that you do it right here where I can help you. I don't want you to do it alone."

"This is part of the job - and I did it alone for a long time," you point out. He fixes you with a frustrated stare.

"But you don't have to now. I'm here now," he insists.

"Are you?" Tim huffs through his nose, fixing a butterfly strip over the cut on your cheek.

"If you'll let me," he says. There's a gentleness there that you're not sure you deserve.

"I don't know if I can." A warble cuts through your voice in a way that makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Tim smoothes his hands up your thighs, parting your legs so that he can stand closer to you between them. His thumbs dig into your muscles gently, rubbing circles into your skin.

"Explain that to me," he prompts. You sigh and tilt your head back to lean it against the mirror, eyeing him through your lashes.

"I don't think I'm any good at being helped," you say simply before leaning forward enough to cup his cheek in your hand, smoothing the furrow between his brows out with your thumb. "And I'm not sure you're any good at helping. You're going to give yourself a headache."

"It's worth it," Tim says, but his response is too quick, a jumbled rush of breath leaving his lungs. You fix him with a knowing, warning sort of look as his devotion to you rings through you and thumps against your heart. 

"Careful," you warn, but the hand you use to grip the back of his neck and bring him closer to you betrays you. "You can't lose yourself in this, Red. You can't love me enough that it makes you whole." His fingers tense on your thighs, pressing in, but he lets you pull him closer.

"No calling me that when I'm not wearing the mask," he murmurs, a shoddy sort of diversion. A smile twitches on your lips.

"But you are red," you say, smoothing your thumbs over the blushing apples of his cheeks. "Right here. And there's no one here to hear me… no one but you." Tim gives you a pained sort of look, his shoulders bunching in embarrassment, but you throw him a lazy smile and lean forward to place a quick kiss to his lips. He doesn't miss your wince when you do.

"Let me see your side," he asks gently.

"Nothing's broken," you respond quickly. He shoots you a look and reaches anyway, pulling your shirt up to reveal mottled purple and blue bruising over your ribs. A gentle hand is placed over it as he murmurs for you to breathe deeply. You try to, but the softness of it all is making you dizzy, making your chest ache for an entirely different reason.

"I don't think anything's broken," Tim assures as he pulls your shirt back down, his hands then finding their home on your waist.

"I told you that," you remind him dryly. There's a stubborn set to his jaw.

"I wanted to check."

"You need to have faith in me."

"Do you have faith in me?" He doesn't say it like an accusation, but you pull back like it is. He looks at you hard, the light flickering over his face and the furrow of his brows. It's a determination that you should be used to by now - one that's born of a desperate devotion to you, a need to get on his knees and pray.

You think he might do it now, just for a second, as he tenses to pull away from you. But you make a panicked, needy sort of sound as you reach for him and it's enough to bring him back to you, some kind of innate pull he has that draws him to your aid. His hands cup your face delicately and he smoothes his thumbs over your cheeks as you close your eyes, willing yourself to breathe.

"I'm not a… I'm not a faithful kind of person, Red. There's a devotion in you that's misplaced." You try to say it gently, the words pulling at your vocal cords as you speak, everything coming out painfully. Tim leans forward to rest his forehead against yours.

"You don't get to choose who I worship," he offers. Your shoulders tense slightly.

"Do you worship me? Or do you love me?" You ask. He doesn't pull away, keeping his eyes closed as his forehead rests against yours.

"What's the difference?"

"There's a gap there, Tim. The difference between devotion and worship. It's - it's love that separates the two," you explain, squeezing your eyes shut.

"I love you." He says it like it's easy.

"Are you sure?" He pulls away at the question, thumbing over your cheeks until you open your eyes to look at him. He's still close enough that you can feel his breath on yours.

"There is a part of you that knows how to be loved," he says - like it's simple. "I'm going to stay here until you find it."

"And then?"

"And then I'll stay to love you." Your hands reach for him at his words, bunching the front of his shirt in your fingers.

"What if that never happens?" You ask, looking anywhere but him, anywhere but straight into the love shining in his eyes.

"Then I'll pray to you," a kiss is pressed to the corner of your mouth. "Like I always have."

"I'm not an idol to obsess over," you protest weakly. More kisses are pressed up your cheek, over your eyelids once they flutter closed, and down the bridge of your nose.

"No," Tim acknowledges easily. "You're someone to be loved. But you haven't figured out how to do that yet, and I… I haven't figured out how to do this yet, either." Your hands move from his shirt to tangle in his hair as you pull him impossibly closer.

"Maybe we'll never learn," your voice is hushed as his lips hover over yours. "Maybe we'll be these things forever."

"Then we'll be them together," is Tim's immediate answer, his lips brushing against your own. "And maybe that's all we need."

[kimberly-spirits13]

Tired Timmy

Pairing: Tim Drake x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Fluff- When you return from a mission, you realize how tired Tim is and get him to sleep.

Word Count: 1598

PS: I IMPLORE THE BATFAM WRITERS TO MAKE MORE TIMMY CONTENT

Tonight, was an especially cold night. Snow fell over the city and blanketed everything in sight. You had just gotten back from a mission in the Amazon and was on break from patrol duty. Aside from getting used to the change in climate from where you were versus where you are now, you were worried about Tim. Of course, he was relieved that you were back safe and sound, he told you as much, but he seemed especially stressed as of lately. It wasn’t uncommon for him to stress about you leaving for a mission without him, but even coming back didn’t seem to stall his emotions. 

            “How’s it going Timmy?” You asked in the comms, watching the surveillance cameras from around the city. 

            “mmm” he grumbled in response 

            “That good huh?” You started snickering at his response, “Only thirty more minutes and then you can come crash.”

            “Good to know.” He said as you watched him haphazardly swing from one building to another, “any leads on the Riddler case?”

            “A few, I’m pretty sure he and Penguin are in cahoots again. I’d say that they’re getting ready for a heist. Give them three weeks tops.” Tim heard paper being tossed around as you combed through the case files regarding your suspicions, “We can go over them when you’re rested.” 

            “I’ll be fine.” Tim said, “We’ll talk about it when I get back.” 

            You weren’t going to argue with him. Tim could be stubborn about working and you didn’t want him angry on patrol, especially when he was this tired. It was a good way of making sure that he came home injured. 

            “Dick, make sure that Tim doesn’t throw himself off a building or something.” You said on a private link.

            “I’m always on it, Y/N/N.” He replied in a chipper tone, “You see it too?” 

            “Yeah,” you leaned back in your chair, watching as the boys ran through the city, “I’ll pick his brain on it when you guys get back. Just make sure he comes back in one piece.”       

            “Will do.”

            You logged into the computer database on Penguin and Riddler’s recent moves, trying to pinpoint connections to them. It was late and you told Alfred to go to sleep so there was only Damian’s pets keeping you company. The first sign of extra life was the sounds of the Batmobile roaring through the underground tunnels. Sometimes, depending on how fast Bruce was going, the walls would vibrate and shake. Dust from the cave’s ceiling would fall onto the floor and in the air as he came flying into the garage. Today it was mundane, and no dust came off the walls. You heard the mechanical sliding of the doors opening and two pairs of heavy footsteps before the sound of two other engines roared through the cave. 

            “How’s the investigation going?” Bruce asked, raking through the papers as Damian picked up Alfred the cat from the chair arm rest.

            “It’s moving along nicely. I think they’re going for the new diamond exhibit downtown. I don’t know why anyone exhibits anything valuable in this city anymore.” 

            Bruce gave a stiff chuckle before patting you on the back, “Good work, turn in for the night, you need rest.” 

            Bruce started walking off as Tim came up and leaned over the side rest.

            “Hey babe.” He tipped your chin to give you a kiss.

            “How was patrol?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

            “It was fine.” He said, pulling up a chair next to you.

            “You seem exhausted.” “Timmy let’s go to bed. We need rest.”

            “Looks aren’t always as they appear Y/N/N.” He mindlessly ran his fingers through your hair and stared at you, “What do you have on the case?”

            You knew there was nothing you could do to get Tim to go to bed at this point. It was time for plan “Timber”. Talking fast, you told him everything you had. There was no repeating what you had said, and you started flipping through the papers as fast as possible without raising suspicion. You had the clocks set to look like a later time, making sure that Tim would think it was later than it was. It was obvious when the plan was working since you saw Tim’s unfocused eyes start wandering around the cave. When it got to this point, Tim would finally decide it was time to rest.

            “Does that make sense?” You asked, thumbing over his fingers, “I’ve got the schematics of the-“

            “Y/N/N, it makes sense but, uh, I’m not focusing anymore.” 

            “Do you wanna go to bed?” You asked, searching for any sign of resistance in his eyes, “Come on.”

            You stood up and pulled him out of the chair, he leaned into you and let his weight rest against you.

            “Sorry, you just got back from a mission, you must be sore.” He said, leaning off you.

            “It’s okay Timmy, I’m alright.” You hugged him and led him upstairs, “Come on, I’ll get you to bed.” 

            “M’ not a baby, I can’t get there myself.” He mumbled into your shoulder before pausing, “That came out snappy.”

            “You’re fine Tim. I know you’re tired.” 

            “I’m fine.”

            Again, you didn’t say anything back, but instead led him up the next flight of stairs and into his room. Leaving him to grab his clothes, you walked into the bathroom and started the shower. When the water was warm enough, you opened the door to tell Tim it was ready. He walked in before calling you back in, the softness of his voice showing how tired he was. 

            “Hey um, you haven’t showered yet either have you?” He asked, crossing his arms with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

            “I showered after dinner Tim.” You said, raising a brow.      

            “Oh yea.” There was a silence in the room for a few seconds.

            “But, if you insist, I can’t say no.” This made Tim chuckle a bit before you shut the door and he dropped the towel before he got into the shower himself.

            You quickly undressed and opened the glass door, joining Tim in the hot stream of water. Tim leaned his head against your shoulder and sighed deeply.

            “I’m tired.” He admitted, wrapping his arms around you, relishing in the heat of the water and the closeness of you.

            “I gathered as much.” “You’ve been over working yourself recently. I told Dick to make sure you didn’t run yourself to death before I got back.” 

            “It’s not Dick’s fault.” He said, “I have my ways.”

            “Oh, I know.” You laughed, making Tim laugh with you.

            “I’m glad you’re back. I thought I’d kill someone for the past three weeks.” 

“I’m glad to be back too. Also, glad you didn’t kill anyone, that would be unfortunate.”  You started running shampooed hands through his hair, washing the dirt and grime down the drain.

Tim closed his eyes and let the water run over his head, washing away the soap and eventually the conditioner that you ran through his hair. He began to wash himself, making sure not to run over the bruises on his torso. Tim gave you a quick glance before double taking.                      “What’s this from?” He asked, running a soapy finger over a stitched wound on your stomach, “I haven’t seen it.”

“Got grazed by a blade during the mission.” “One of the assassins got the best of Cassie and I jumped in front of her.” 

“It looks painful.” “I’ve been leaning on you this entire time, are you hurt anywhere else?” He spun you around and started looking for signs of other injuries.

“Besides a few bruises, I’m fine. You’re fine Timmy I’m not hurt.”

“This doesn’t look fine. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked 

“I didn’t want to worry you, you’re exhausted.” The rest of the soap ran off the two of you and into the drain, “I didn’t want you stressing yourself out.”

“I’m sorry.” Tim said honestly, “You said to get rest but I totally didn’t.” 

“Tim I’m not upset with you. I know it’s your job and you feel passionately about it, I’m just worried you don’t sleep, it’ll get you hurt on the field.”

“I know you’re right.” 

“Come on, let’s get dress and go to bed. I don’t think I have a change of clothes in here.” You said grabbing two towels from the heated rack.

“I brought you some sweats.” Tim replied with a smirk.

“Oh, so you’re admitting that you planned this all along?” You laughed nudging him jokingly.

“Just the shower.” 

            When you had dried off totally, you walked back into the bedroom and turned the fan on. Walking back to the bed, you saw that Tim was already getting into bed. His eyes were fluttering shut and opening again, over, and over. He turned his head to you and spread out, getting comfortable.

            “I’m tired.” He said softly.      

            “I know love.” You climbed next to him and reached over him to turn the lamp off.

            “That’s a good view babe.” Tim said with a smirk in his voice before you leaned back onto your side.

            “Glad you approve.” 

            You laid down, pulling Tim closer to you. He put his head into the crook of your neck and took a deep breath before wrapping his legs around you. Pushing the covers over his shoulders, you ran your fingers through his hair, watching as his breath evened out and his body relaxed. 

            “I’m exhausted. Can’t sleep without you” he said in a whisper.

            “I know Timmy, but you can sleep now.” 

[lesbianbarbaragordon]

Well, if you wanted honesty (that's all you had to say)

He slumps against you now, once everything is set and done, leaning his sweaty forehead against your shoulder. His bangs, wet cold from the rain outside, tickle at your back. You don’t think much of it when you settle a hand on his back, nearly cradling him. He needs the comfort just as much as you do. pairing: tim drake x reader warning: brief mention of anxiety medication, implied panic attack word count: 1.6k

Red Robin would have been more lucky had he landed on your neighbor’s apartment just next door instead of yours.

You are majoring in journalism at college, despite how much your mother would have wanted you to become a doctor, so you have few first aid knowledge or even the cool head to deal with the shock. 

So really, he would have been better off slipping through her window and not yours, but it’s a friday night and you declined her invitation to go out around an hour ago, so you know he would have just found an empty apartment.

He has you, and only you, for better or for worse.

It’s a terrible, gruesome sight; a dark silhouette in the shape of a man slumped against the wall and a trail of blood following from the window.

You’re alone in your apartment, clad on some old pajamas and a messy bun. There’s an empty ramen cup on the coffee table leftover from your dinner and some trashy reality show playing in the background. You’d rather die a hundred times over before having a vigilante see you like this, uncared for and wide open, and the embarrassment still lingers even after the horror has long since settled in.

It’s silly, and stupid, and so so inconsequential in the mortal scheme of the scene playing out right in the middle of your living room, but you’ve been infatuated with Red Robin since he was just Robin, and a decade worth of daydreams crashes hard against your predicament. You didn’t want to meet him like this.

It takes you half a minute to adjust. Your hands are shaking when you lean against the sink of the bathroom, looking through your cupboard in search of your anxiety meds. If you’re already barely useful to Red Robin as you are, you’re definitely useless on the verge of a panic attack. By the time you are back to Red Robin’s side it’s easier to breathe and you bring a first aid kit with you. You hope you don’t look as terrified as you feel.

Red Robin is breathing through his mouth, clutching both hands to a belt buckled around his hips. A big puddle of red has started pooling around him on the floor, and it takes you a minute to realize the red around his belly is darker than his suit. You grab at his hands and take a deep breath, thinking your words over.

“I need to see the wound.” He is eerily quiet and tense to the touch. He doesn’t trust you and you don’t trust him either. Despite your fondness for him over other vigilantes you don’t know him, he showed up uninvited and you are scared. This is a situation of wary hospitality, some sort of leap of faith between the both of you.

Slowly he relents, perhaps because he’s too tired and hazy to put up a fight, or maybe because he sees good faith in your eyes. Whatever the case, you get to work.

The belt doesn’t come off easily and at some point you just settle on cutting it off. Red Robin weakly gestures to one of the pockets, where you find more first aid supplies; a medical needle, stitches, painkillers and some sort of dark lump that reveals itself to be a retractable tourniquet when you accidentally press a bottom. 

The implication that he has to carry around a travel size tourniquet makes you dizzy, thinking about just what kind of job he expects to take on, but you don’t dwell on it because you have already taken a dose of your meds and another one would be no use.

His suit is skin tight and he has to help you lift the shirt to see the wound. His body is sticky with sweat and the blood doesn’t make it any better. For a fleeting moment you think about calling emergencies, what do heroes do when they get hurt? Surely you would have seen more of Batman’s cryptic team during your childhood at the hospital if that were the case. Perhaps some sort of private clinic for vigilantes, paid for by the Justice League? Maybe they just dropped in unannounced at a stranger’s house expecting patching up and it was like one of those things everyone knew but no one mentioned.

“Believe me, this is a first.”

There’s a slight smile teasing at his words and despite the situation you shudder, followed up by an intense blushing in your cheeks and ears. God, did you really say that outloud?

“I just-” you stop in your tracks for a minute, focusing on the blood in your nails and fingers, “this doesn’t make any sense,” you admit, frowning slightly.

Red Robin leans his head against the windowsill, letting out a shudder. His shoulders relax the slightest bit, you hear the beating of his heart and his ragged breaths. He’s in pain, awake perhaps only because he can’t afford to fall asleep on a stranger. You never thought you’d find yourself here.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me either,” he whispers in the end. You can’t tell if he’s looking you in the eyes because of his domino mask, and there’s resentment in your mind for a second because he barged in, seeing you at your most vulnerable, while you can’t even know the color of his eyes. It feels a little unfair and it makes you understand, in a way, all those criticisms of secret vigilantes and superheroes whose identities the public doesn’t know.

But you don’t entertain the thought, because even if just from the remains of your childhood wonder, there’s the littlest of belief in Batman and Robin.

Red Robin tries to guide you, but he slips in and out of consciousness throughout and you can’t remain stagnant while he’s out of it. He tells you he’s bleeding from a bullet wound and that his communications were cut short before he had to run for it and look for shelter. By the time he realized, he was alone, half delirious and in desperate need of medical aid. He doesn’t tell you why he went to your place, exactly, and you have half your mind to know it wasn’t a mistake. Bats don’t make reckless decisions, especially not Red Robin, but you bite your tongue and hold it in. Distrust would do neither of you any good.

Thankfully the bullet pierced cleanly all the way through and you don’t have to look for bits or pieces to take out. By the time you’re done disinfecting Red Robin’s taken a few painkillers and he doesn’t sound as in pain, if not a little hazy from blood loss. The staple you got earlier from his belt saves you the trouble of sewing the wound, the bleeding has already stopped and you can comfortably work on it while he drinks some cold water from the fridge, hissing whenever you place a new stitch.

Sweat dots your brow once you’re done, letting out a heavy sigh. Red Robin is much the same, cold to the touch and yet hot when he breathes against your neck. As time passed he leaned closer and closer to you, whispering and instructing, sometimes even leaning on you for support when a sudden wave of weakness hit him and he was left stumbling.

He slumps against you now, once everything is set and done, leaning his sweaty forehead against your shoulder. His bangs, wet cold from the rain outside, tickle at your back. You don’t think much of it when you settle a hand on his back, nearly cradling him. He needs the comfort just as much as you do.

The TV sets an eerie light on the both of you, and in the quiet of the room you help Red Robin stand up and settle on your couch. His white bandages a contrast against the colorful cushions and a blanket you hand him without a word.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” you hear him say sleepily once he’s tucked in, looking at you almost shamefully. You come to a full stop on the doorway, just about to leave for the corridor and then your bedroom, ready to settle for sleep just as much as Red Robin. Now that everything is over, you are uncharacteristically sore for the one that hasn’t been shot.

“I know,” you say, after taking a moment to drink him in. You know his face from photos, or at least what you’ve seen over the years of ever changing masks and cowls. His youthful cheeks that were once Robin’s baby features are gone, replaced by a sharp jaw and cutting features. He’s grown up much like you, even if he’s felt like an eternal teen boy heartthrob crush for your high school years.

You don’t know what to make of it, of him, of this or even of you, of the you that’s resurfaced today even if just for the smallest of moments or the quiet bond that’s bloomed between you. Because it means something to you, and luckily it’s the same for him.

“Don’t stain my cushions,” you say, the slightest hint of amusement in your voice. “Even if you’re Red Robin, i’ll foot you the bill.”

He blinks owlishly at you, hit by your shamelessness into quiet bafflement.

“Goodnight,” you say at last, leaving before he gets out a word.

In the morning he’s gone just like he said, and yet you are surprised to see a single note on the counter.

‘I’ll bring you new cushions, thanks for the help’.

It’s signed only with ‘Red’, but you didn’t expect much else. It makes you wonder though, when exactly he’ll bring over those new cushions.

an: i'm soso sleepy rn i'd elaborate on my process but its rlly late and i have class tmrw, i hope everyone enjoys this mwah !!!

[froggyfics]

Muffins

You and Tim ruin muffins for Jason and Dick.

Ummm, I’m not sure how we got here. I was requested to make a super fluffy piece, but it just turned sideways. I don’t even know why it turned out the way it did.

Sorry if y’all are squeamish about spit, I’m just disgusting

This is literally the first smut piece I've done, it's not full smut, but still, let me know how I did!

Sorry to the anon that requested a fluff piece. I really don’t know where it went wrong. Please blame my parents for my repressed childhood.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome! 

Pairing: Tim Drake x gn!reader

Theme: Fluff, Implied Smut

Warning: Spit Kink

Word Count: 1,026

You gaze excitedly upon the remaining muffin, with your salivary glands kicking into overdrive as you inhale the dessert’s scent. 

Your tongue hangs out slightly in preparation for muffin to enter your mouth. It’s a big muffin, and it’ll be a tight fit, but you’re sure you can manage. 

The pads of your fingers are ready to pick up the muffin when, unexpectedly, another pair of hands enter the frame. 

It occurs almost in slow motion. Tim’s nimble fingers grasp the sides of the dessert, removing the liner and tossing it in an unknown direction. He purposely holds your gaze, aware that you are watching his every move in utter shock. He grins widely, knowing that he’ll be punished for his actions, but nonetheless, believes that your reaction would be worth the trouble. 

“Don’t do it,” you warn. 

“Watch me.”

He opens his mouth widely, stretching his face to the maximum. He stuffs the muffin into his mouth carefully. Tim doesn’t want to actually eat the muffin. Oh no, he wants to simply bask in the experience of bothering you. Because nothing makes Tim happier than when he’s on your mind, even if it’s at the expense of your peace of mind.  

The muffin completes its journey to Tim’s mouth. His lips struggle to close completely, as his mouth is at its maximum capacity. 

The look on your face is worth the painful stretch of his jaw. He wants to smile, but he knows he’ll choke if he does. It’s now time for phase two.

He reaches into his mouth and grabs the base of the muffin. He cautiously pulls it out, one centimeter at a time. You watch in disgust as Tim pulls the muffin out his mouth, still fully intact, and places it proudly back on the plate it was originally on. 

There’re a few seconds of silence before laughter cuts through the air. Your eyes shoot daggers at Jason and Dick, who are sitting at the kitchen table as well. Jason clutches his stomach and Dick covers his face with his hands, both shaking uncontrollably with laugher. You turn to face Tim, who sports a toothy grin. He knows what your reaction will be. You know he’s just doing this to get a rise out of you. You know this, but you can’t help yourself.

You shudder involuntarily. “That was so foul,” you start. You look over at your traumatized muffin. There’s an extra shine on the dessert that wasn’t there before. You realize it’s Tim’s spit that made its way from his mouth and settled into its pores.

“You’re disgusting,” you add. 

Tim has now joined in on the laughter. It’s the type of laughter that’s so boisterous that through his shirt, you can see his stomach contort as the sound travels out of his body. It’s an infectious laugh that you realize you never want to be immune to. 

Your mouth quivers as you try your best not laugh, too. This is serious! He messed with your muffin! And it’s the last one, so it’s not like you can just grab another!

“I-I-I can’t even eat this!” you sputter. “Your saliva is all over it!”

Tim’s laughter doesn’t slowly die down, but instead, it abruptly ends. It shocks you at just how quickly the mood changes. He quirks his head to the side, looking deep into your eyes. Tim blankly stares at you and approaches. He’s no longer looking at your eyes, as his gaze lowers to your mouth. His fingers graze your lips, and you hold your breath. There’s something electric in the air suddenly. The atmosphere has shifted from lively to…sensual. You’re unsure of what’s about to happen next. You can’t even continue with your rant, and you simply gaze at him in anticipation. 

“My saliva is all over your muffin?” he mocks. He no longer has a childish smile on his face, but sports a devious smirk instead. 

You’re unsure of how to reply. All you can do is nod slightly, your eyes round with excitement, wondering what Tim will say next. 

One hand remains on your lips and the other slides up and down your arm. The motion would be comforting during any another moment. In this moment though, the action is anything but comforting. Instead, it lights a fire within your core. 

“You’ve literally begged me to spit in your mouth before,” he emphasizes. “A little saliva won’t hurt you one bit.”

The laughter from Jason and Dick immediately ceases and is replaced by disgusted groans. You can see from the corner of your eye that Dick is pretending to vomit and Jason’s face contorts in revulsion. 

Tim’s raunchy admission makes you blush furiously, but it also leaves your toes curling. Redness now tints your neck, face, and ears. Your craving for dessert quickly dissipates and now you have a different sort of hunger.

“I didn’t need to hear that,” Jason laments.

“Yeah, thanks guys. You’ve ruined muffins for me,” Dick adds. 

You don’t even hear what Jason and Dick continue to complain about. Tim is all that crowds your mind. He’s still got that devious smirk on his face. You stare right back at him as you make your next move.

You grab the muffin without breaking eye contact. He’s so focused on you and his attentiveness makes you all the more tense. You break it in half and slip your portion into your mouth. Its sweetness immediately hits your tongue, and you just have to close your eyes at how good it tastes. 

You open your eyes after you’ve swallowed, and notice that Tim’s still looking at you with passion, love, and lust in his eyes. You lean in closer to him and hold up the remaining portion to his lips. He opens his mouth and you take the opportunity to slip his half of the muffin in. When he begins to chew it, you whisper. You whisper low enough to where Jason and Dick can’t hear what you’re saying. This conversation is between you and Tim only.

“The muffin was good, but I think I need something else to wash it down with.”

[roses-r-rosie3]

Making The Bed

Tim Drake x M!Reader

[Spill Ur Guts Masterlist/Challenge]

Warnings: Angst, Arguing, Breakup, Comfort

Summary: The Reader is the son of death stroke, and of course being his son meant that the reader had to train really hard, but he was never perfect. And he has also found himself in a relationship with Tim. So he pushes Tim away to train harder and make his father proud of him. That ends up leading to the reader and Tim having a massive argument, and they break up. But they meet again, with Batman confronting death stroke about something. It ends up in a fight with the reader and Tim fighting each other, but the reader overworked himself so hard to the point where he passes out mid-fight and Tim immediately stops to take care of him.

Quote: “I’m done with this conversation! I’m done with you! I’m done with us! I’m done with our relationship! We’re over!”

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

You were the youngest of all of Slade’s kids. Some might think that you were the most spoiled and loved because of this, but it was the opposite. You were not the best at combat, but you weren’t the worst. But your father made you see yourself as a disappointment because you weren’t as good as your other siblings were. He still made you his sidekick though, which confused you. But nonetheless you still tried your best to impress him.

One of the nights of helping your father with whatever he needed help with, Batman and red-robin showed up. You would have lied if you said that you didn’t blush a little underneath your mask. You couldn’t remember what happened that day, but you knew you caught feelings for him.

Tim would’ve been lying too if he said he didn’t catch feelings as soon as he saw you. He didn’t know what to do, so one day, when your father let you out on your own, you bumped into the vigilante and he immediately went after you. After a few minutes of him chasing you, he eventually pinned you to the wall and kissed you, and you two became a thing.

The two of you obviously couldn’t tell either of your dad’s about your relationship. Even with having to keep your relationship a secret, the both of you still remained together, you even revealed your secret identities to each other. And every time you “fought” you always pulled your punches and vice versa. Your father would quickly notice this though.

“What were you thinking y/n! You could’ve easily killed him right then and there! But you decided to let him go! You’re useless! God sometimes I even wonder why I even had you!” Slade shouted.

You had to stand there and nod, with tears swelling in your eyes. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You needed his approval. So from then on, whenever you fought with Tim, you would go all out, and Tim would notice it. So after that happened for about 7 more times, Tim texted you to meet him at a random roof top. You quickly snuck out of your house to meet him.

“Hey baby” Tim smiled as he tried to kiss you.

You didn’t let him though, which reminded Tim what he called you here for.

“Y/n, you’ve been acting different recently, is everything okay?” Tim spoke up.

“Yeah, I’m completely fine, why did you ask?” You said as you nipped at the side of your pants.

“No y/n, I’ve known you for long enough to know when you’re lying, please, just tell me the truth, I won’t be mad” Tim said softly.

“Nothing’s wrong alright, I’m fine” you said again.

“Y/n stop! I know you’re lying because you keep picking at the side of your pants each time you lie! Just tell me the truth!” Tim said, raising his voice.

“Can you stop! I’m fine! If this is seriously all you called me for why even call me here to begin with!” You lashed out.

“Just tell me y/n! You’ve been more aggressive during our ‘fights’! Is it your dad making you do this?” Tim asked.

You wanted to tell Tim so badly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him.

“Can’t you just mind your business?! For the last time, I’m fine!” You shouted.

“Y/n please! If there’s anything wrong just tell me! I’m here for you” Tim said.

You couldn’t take this anymore so you just yelled at Tim with a mix of stress and fury.

“I’m done with this conversation! I’m done with you! I’m done with us! I’m done with our relationship! We’re over!” You screamed as you stormed back to your house.

Tim stood there in shock, still trying to process what you just said while you were waking further from him. Tim began to break down on the rooftop, wondering what caused you to lash out like that. Tim, after sobbing for what felt like hours, eventually went back to Wayne manor, and went straight to his room, ignoring his brothers, Bruce, and even Alfred.

When you got back to your room, you immediately realized what you just did and you started to cry. You lost the one person who loved you for you. You cried into your bed all night, you even considered texting Tim, but you couldn’t do it.

For the next few weeks you were training yourself, almost to death, you even passed out once, but luckily, Rose noticed and helped you up. Tim on the other hand, locked himself in his room, not letting anyone talk to him. And if he did, (which was only when he was when he needed to use the restroom or to go on patrol) he didn’t talk to anyone or give them the cold shoulder.

It had been 6 months since the breakup and you were in the training room when your father walked in.

“Y/n get ready, the bats is gonna meet us at a warehouse for a… meeting..” Slade said before he left the room.

As soon as you heard this, you knew it was your opportunity to impress your father. You just had to pray Tim wouldn’t show up. You practiced harder than usual, which caused you to be out of breath, and almost caused you to pass out again, but you couldn’t disappoint your father.

Meanwhile, Bruce knocked on Tim’s door, telling Tim that he had to have a discussion with Slade, and he needed all the help he could get if things went bad (which was bound to happen). Like you, Tim could only hope that you weren’t there, but the chances of that were very low.

When you and your father got ready, you headed to the warehouse, where Batman was already there, waiting, but he was alone. It rose suspicions from both you and your father, but who were you to complain? Tim on the other hand, he was waiting on the roof of the warehouse, looking at you through the glass ceiling.

“Hey, Tim. You okay? You’ve been acting depressed for the last six months now and you’ve been staring at the window for a while now” Dick said.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Just waiting for Bruce’s signal” Tim reassured.

Soon enough Batman gave them the signal and they broke in through the window. As soon as you saw Tim, your eyes locked onto him, tears threatening to fall. Dick, Jason, and Bruce immediately went after Death stroke while Tim and Damian went after you.

You tried your best to fight them both off at once, you could tell that Tim was holding back, but Damian on the other hand, wasn’t. Soon enough you managed to beat Damian, which was a pretty impressive feat from you, considering how weak you were. Now all you had to do was beat Tim, but that was easier said than done.

You glared at Tim, and Tim glared at your mask, but before either of you could start to fight, you blacked out and collapsed to the ground, causing both Slade and Tim to look at you.

“Y/n!” Tim yelled out, getting everyone else’s attention.

Tim rushed over to check up on you, not caring that his family and your dad was watching. Tim quickly pulled your mask off to reveal your face. He missed looking at your face, he missed kissing it, he missed the feel of your face, he missed everything about you.

“Get away from my son!” Slade shouted as he pushed Tim away,

Although Slade acted like he didn’t care for you, on the inside, he cared about you a lot, that’s why he let you be his sidekick. Meanwhile, everyone was giving Tim a confused look, even Bruce.

“I can explain” Tim said.

“Yeah, that would be perfect right about now” Jason said.

“I’ve always had feelings for him, from the day that I saw him, and one day when I was chasing him down, it just happened” Tim explained.

“How long has this been going on for?” Bruce asked.

“It was going to be a year, and then he broke up with me, this is the first time I’ve seen him in months” Tim replied.

“So that’s why you’ve been acting differently” Dick said as everyone was putting the pieces together.

As everyone was talking, Slade appeared behind Tim.

“So, you’re the one my son was dating, I knew he was dating someone but I could never find out who. Why did he fall for someone like you? How do I know that you won’t break my son’s heart?” Slade said.

Slade sounded calm, something that far beyond normal for him. Tim was confused, but at least Slade wasn’t trying to cut his head off.

“Your son and I loved each other more than anything, he was always my number one priority, I can’t live without him, I love him so much” Tim responded.

“I trust you, but if you hurt my son, physically, or emotionally, I will make sure that you will beg for me to kill you” Slade threatened.

“And if your son hurts our brother, we’ll make sure to send his decapitated head back to you” Damian spoke up.

“Okay then” Slade said before picking up your unconscious body home.

“That’s not what I expected, I thought for sure he was gonna chop your head off” Jason shrugged.

———————————————————————

When you awoke from your unconscious state, you were in your bed, and your father was sitting next to you in your bed. Something felt off though.

“So, you and the boy wonder huh?” Slade asked.

WHAT?! HOW DID HE FIND OUT?!

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about” you stuttered.

“I’ve known for a while that you were with someone y/n, I’m your father. The problem was, I never knew with who, until now” he spoke calmly.

“I’m so sorry dad, I didn’t mean t-”

“Don’t be sorry, I can’t control who you do and don’t fall in love with” Slade said.

“So you’re not mad?” You asked.

“No. But I have a question, something about his tone, felt off, tell me why” Slade said.

“I broke up with him, because I wanted to focus on training, to impress you” you confessed.

“Now I know why you fainted. I have one last question” Slade spoke.

“Do you really love him?”

“Yes, I love him more than anything, I want to get back with him, but I doubt he wants anything to do with me anymore” you sighed.

“Go”

“What?” You said confusingly

“Go tell him that you want to get back with him” Slade ordered.

“R-really?” You stuttered.

“It’s obvious that you two love each other a lot, and I am in no position to keep the two of you from each other” Slade said.

With that, you texted Tim to meet you at the same roof top you broke up with him on, and you ran.

When you got there, Tim was already there waiting for you, which caused you to slow down your walking. You both stared at each other for what felt like eternity.

“Tim… I-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Tim ran up to you and kissed you. You were shocked at first, but you closed your eyes and gave in to the kiss. The kiss was sweet and passionate. You held him closer to you, you didn’t want to let go, you didn’t want to lose him, not again. When your lips finally departed you were already craving it again.

“I’m so sorry Tim I’m so sorry I lost my temper on you. I- I was just so stressed that I just snapped at you. You didn’t deserve that. I didn’t mean to. I missed you so, so much. I missed you more than anything, please forgive me” you cried.

“I missed you too y/n, please, don’t ever leave me again” Tim sobbed as he hugged you.

“I won’t, I won’t ever leave you again” you sniffled as rested your head onto his.

[pookiebeary]

‧₊˚.Shutterbug Drabbles𓇢𓆸

Tim Drake x Reader

No gender is mentioned for reader

"Isn't the view amazing?" You turn around to face Tim and smile when you meet his eyes; your eyes bending to crescent shapes as you spot the camera he's holding.

He pauses, a red hue spreads on his cheeks as his eyes widen with a look of awestruck before you hear a soft shutter.

You see Tim's mouth move to speak but the sudden gust of wind blows strongly and you struggle to hear as it howls against your ears.

When the wind finally dies, you ask, "What did you say?"

"Nothing." He replies quickly and ducks his head down to stare at his camera.

"You're beautiful."

[niphredil-14]

Yandere Tim Drake Headcanons

Tim would be the type of yandere to stalk his darling long before he made a move. He would learn everything and anything there was to know about them. He would begin to control them from afar. Changing their schedule, their route to work, how much attention they received and how often, who they talked to. He would make everything about them as convenient to him as possible. He would slowly begin to cut them off from the world, so that finally, when they were aching with loneliness, he would make his entrance. 

He was their saving grace, pulling them out of a dark place and into his awaiting arms. Every move he makes, every word he speaks, every gesture and expression is planned. While he is with them, he makes them feel like the most important person in the world, and in his absence, he would let their insecurities and loneliness eat away at them, forcing them to build an emotional dependency on him. 

His next step would be to force them to be physically and financially dependent on him as well. Completely out of the blue, their boss fired them, without explanation, just before rent was due. Of course, Tim would let them stay with him, he loves them after all! And he will always be there for them! And when they couldn’t get hired anywhere else, it was no problem! Tim has more money than he could use in ten lifetimes! They’re more than welcome to have his! 

At that point in the relationship, they were still allowed to leave the house at their will, because Tim would never dream of taking away their autonomy! But oh, what a shame it was that one night while they were walking back from grocery shopping, they were attacked by some goon! Thankfully, though, Red Robin was there to save them and escort them home. And what a surprise it was for Red Robin to unmask himself once inside the penthouse with them, only to reveal their loving boyfriend! He was so worried when he saw them get attacked, and he just couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to them! Maybe it would be for the best if for the next few days they only leave their home when he was with them to make sure that nothing went wrong. And oh? As soon as they started going out without him again, some other asshole had the audacity to try to hurt them again? Oh well, maybe they ought to just stay home if he wasn’t around. 

The final step of getting them to never leave would be to have a very close call while out on a nightly stroll. If he got so badly hurt that they would be so filled with anxiety every time they left the house, even when they were with him, then they would never have to leave. It’s more dangerous for him to be protecting them, because then he can’t really focus on the fight since he would be too worried about their safety! 

Once they stopped leaving the house all together, he would make it so that everyone they had connection with online would disappear. Anyone who had ever been even remotely close to them would be gone. Left completely alone, unable to leave the house, they would only have him. And he would stay with them all the time, except for patrol and his Wayne Enterprises duties, but the time those took up would significantly decline. 

He would make them feel like they were in complete control, and would bend to almost every one of their whims. He would buy them whatever they wanted, he would spoils them rotten with diamonds, gems, clothes, money, and love. They were his darling, after all. 

[sweetlypunk]

Hate You, but Love You.

TIM DRAKE X SUPERGIRL!READER

Summary: Tim is too focused in his frustration with the newest supergirl to notice his college classmate has a crush on him.

—————————————————————————————————

“WATCH IT!”

“If you don’t stop moving, I’m going to drop you!”

You had been so excited when Superman had finally confided on you for a special mission without him around.

He finally trusted you enough to take charge of something. No Superman around, no Superboy around, no other crappy League of Justice member to boss you around.

Except, he had failed to mention you would not be alone. And you were not exactly ecstatic about it when you realized it—especially when you realized who was the other person.

Tim thought this was finally it. Batman and the League of Justice taking him more seriously, outside of the Young League of Justice. Red Robin as a hero—not that Batman didn’t see that already. A mission as if he was one of them.

When Batman asked him to go to take over this mission, he was excited to help. However, he never mentioned he would have to work with her.

You were flying back to the batcave, carrying Red Robin by his arms throughout the sky.

Although you spent most of the time bickering with one another, the mission had been completed. You guys had made a good job and were ready to go back home.

Except Red Robin’s motorcycle had exploded at one point, and you both had to get back together so you could give out the mission’s report. This left you with no alternative than carrying Red Robin in your arms.

Let’s say none of you were thrilled about the idea.

“It not like you hadn’t dropped me at least twice!”

“Can you blame me?” You retorted, “you weight a ton.”

“Excuse me?” Red Robin gasped, “Don’t you have super strength or something? Huh, Superboy’s power cut you short.” he paused, and mumbled, “maybe he should have come instead. Less distractions with him.”

“Oh that’s it.” You grumbled and dropped him from where you flew in the sky.

“Hey-!” Tim screamed as he fell through the air, convince that it would be his last breathe as soon as he hit the floor.

But just when his face was about to kiss his death place, supergirl came flying and picked him over.

You dropped him closer to the top of the building, as he tried to catch his breath.

“You-” Red Robin started as soon as he was able to talk again.

“Don’t” You landed delicately in front of him, giving him the back, “if you so much wanted Superboy to come, could have just told your sweet friends in the League.”

Red Robin kept it quiet and just glared at you.

You turned around abruptly and looked at him sternly, “there is a reason why they sent me. But you couldn’t help keeping your mumbling shut the whole mission on how you were so capable of doing it in your own, even when I saved your life more than twice.”

You started walking towards him and floated a little above the ground to be taller than him so you could look him down.

“You were so desperate to take over the mission, that you missed so many details. Thought you were supposed to be the “best”detective in the team? What had you so distracted Robin Boy, huh?”

Glaring down on him, you poked his shoulder. “You aren’t more than a rude boy. You better stop your attitude before I punch you three buildings away from here.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean that he is better than you-”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant. You acted so entitled the whole mission,” you closed the space between your faces more with an intimidating force, “what do you think, that you are better than me?”

“I-”

“News flash love. I’m just as good, if not better, than whatever standard you think you are in.”

Red Robin’s face shifted a little, quickly looking away from your face.

You took a deep breath and turned around. After a few moments of silent, you spoke up, “the mission worked out alright at the end. We worked it out together and all was fine, maybe they were right in assigning it to both of us.” You glanced back and added, “still, you could have been less annoying and helped a bit more.”

The supergirl jumped of the building and made her way to the Batcave to meet with rest there, leaving Red Robin to walk the 5 miles left by himself.

Perhaps it would provide him time to reflect, and it would allow him to think of a reasonable explanation of why his mind was so out of focus during the mission.

—————————————————————————————————

Tim looked up at the plastic bag that was dropped in front of him.

“What’s this?”

“A muffin” You smiled to him from the other side of the desk. “What were you doing? I called your name more than once.”

As you tried to peek at his laptop, Tim rushed to closed it down.

“Uh- just homework.” He waved it off and took your gift, “Whats the muffin for?”

“To eat- duh.” You rolled your eyes jokingly as you leaned down in the desk, “you have been so focused on your assignments that you barely eat anything. And you always drink so much coffee, you need something to snack with it.”

He smiled at you sweetly and you felt the butterflies in your stomach float, “Thanks, you didn’t have to.”

“Oh I don’t mind.” You played with your hair, and sat in the desk to look him down, “so.”

“So?”

“What’s bothering you so much?” You smiled, tilting your head.

“What?” Tim looked at you as he took a bite of the muffin, “What do you mean?”

“Oh please, anyone who pays enough attention can see that something is bothering you Tim. You can trust me, you know that, what’s up?”

Tim sighed and leaned back in the chair, moving his hand behind his head, “that obvious, huh?” You nodded and he sighed, “it’s nothing big, just… work things.”

“At your dad’s company?”

“Uh- yeah.”

“Hm” you leaned back in your arms, tilting your head, “well, I’m all ears.”

He gave you a sided smile, sighed and leaned his head back, “there is this girl…” you felt your heart drop, “that’s an absolute menace.”

You caught yourself before you let a sigh of relief out, and just nodded to keep him talking.

“She works with one of my dad’s partners… and we were assigned a work together. Actually, something tells me we will be working a lot together.” He looked to a spot in the wall, lost with his thoughts, “she annoys me pretty much. But I don’t really get why I get so frustrated around her— she’s pretty bossy if I’m honest. And she accused me of being “too entitled” of myself. I was just firing back comments at her, but now that I think it… maybe I was being too rude.”

You scoffed and looked at him firmly, “Oh please. She actually sounds so horrible. How could she say that? You are one of the nicest guys I have ever met, you got the biggest heart ever.” You poked his leg with your foot, “She probably was giving you such a hard time, because she is bitter that you are better at work than her.”

“That’s the thing,” he’s sighed deeply again, “She is not bad at what she does. She manages things so well, and when I didn’t listen to her, everything went the wrong way. She annoys me too much, but she’s still pretty damn good at what she does, hell- she’s probably better than me. I was completely useless at everything,.”

He looked lost in his head, way to frustrated by that girl. “I don’t believe that.”

“Hm?” He looked at you, rightening himself,

“I don’t believe that.” You stood up and looked at him, “You are the most hardworking person I have ever met. Heck, you never give yourself a break. You are always working, doing homework, or even helping out people. You volunteer almost every weekend at the city hall, and are always ready to help others. Sometimes, it’s difficult to not feel useless compared to you.”

“Hey,” Tim stood up and held you by the arms, “you are not useless. You are literally one of the best of your major, of our class. You most likely have better grades than me, and you are always helping our classmates. You always have the best advice, and you speak up when you see it necessary. You are an amazing girl y/n. I’m so lucky of having you as my friend.”

He smiled at you widely, his beautiful blue eyes bright. You were too aware of his closeness, and tried so hard not to just gape at his beauty. You smiled a little, trying to not let the word “friend” get to you.

“Right back at you.”

He smiled, and you reunited all your courage to ask him if he wanted to go get something to eat together, but the sound of his phone chirping made him turn away before you could speak.

As he looked at the notification, something in his face shifted, as if had hoped for whatever he was looking at to happen.

He started picking up his stuff and said, “Hey, I got to run. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Thanks for the muffin again!”

“I-” you tried to stop him, but he was long gone. You internally groaned, and had a strong will to kick the desk.

You walked out of the room before you could destroy something and got an alert from your phone halfway out of the building.

🚨 Superman: meet at the Batcave, got something for you.

You sighed, just what you needed. Another mission with that asshole.

You rushed out as fast as you could, that jerk is not going to get there before you.

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you) masterlist

pairing: tim drake x f!reader

In which you're just the graveyard shift employee at Circle K bombarded by vigilantes.

full summary: Working at a convenience store in Gotham City is a thankless and often dangerous job. Especially if you are working the graveyard shift.

You quite liked your brief stint at the Circle K in Keystone City, if only because the Flash could be found taking care of crime before they even happened. Plus, your store was the one he frequented the most for snacks and drinks to replenish his energy.

Even if your friends, Steph and Tim, don’t actually believe that he visited you and in fact said you two were friends. (No, seriously, he did!)

But a surprise visit from him with Red Robin in tow, a pointed insult to the Bats’ general hostility and unwelcoming nature, and suddenly, you have a revolving door of vigilantes at odd hours of the night.

Your most frequent visitor and the one that bothers you for a reason you can’t articulate since it also coincides with Tim Drake’s sudden avoidance of you?

Red Robin.

But it’s probably nothing, right?

contains: canon-typical violence, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, not actually unrequited love, eventual happy ending

ao3 | fic playlist | story tag

🏪 chapter index; completed!

chapter one... on my way to circle k

chapter two... it's getting late

chapter three... this doesn’t feel right

chapter four... walking slow (all alone)

chapter five... i am found on the ground

chapter six... hear the sound of your heart breaking

chapter seven... just get me through the night

chapter eight... where did i go wrong?

chapter nine... i want to make it right

chapter ten... there’s no way to hide it (i know what you’re fighting)

chapter eleven... i am always running back to you

chapter twelve... back to you

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

These hands may be bloody (but they're still mine and I'm still yours)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.3k

genre: fluff, sort of hurt/comfort

warnings: there's some talk of timmy being able to hurt reader, but the point is that he doesn't

a/n: hmmmmm actually this is a really good one enjoy <3

"You know, my front door works very well," you point out without looking up, your eyes still trained on the case file in your lap as you sit on your couch, listening to your balcony door click shut and heavy boots walk across your living room.

"Aw, but where's the fun in that?" Red Robin drawls as he settles on the arm of your couch, leaning over to try to look at your file before you snap it shut and throw it onto your coffee table.

"There are a lot of apartments to break into around here, Red. You should start branching out." You quip. 

"Those other apartments don't give me what I need."

"Which is…?" You prompt. He extends his hand, dropping a flash memory drive into your lap. You look at him witheringly. "I should start charging you."

"I don't have the time to keep eyes on all the leads I need to. Help me out a little." Red Robin smiles, a sharp grin that seems to glint in the darkness of your apartment.

"I did," you emphasize. "I've helped you out for weeks. When are you gonna have enough of me, Red?"

"You watch the news, I'm sure." He ignores your question. "The intel you're helping me get is doing real damage to the drops trade. You're making Gotham a better place. You're doing something good here."

"Should I pull out the pompoms or are you done with the cheerleading speech?" You shoot back dryly. 

"C'mon, please. Just… give me a little something. Help me out here," Red Robin slides off the arm of your couch so that he can kneel in front of you, propping his chin on his hand and looking at you imploringly through his mask.

"Don't grovel. It freaks me out," you say. He laughs. Your heart thumps at the sound in a way you hate. 

"Please…?"

"Fine. Just - get up, will you?" You snap as he pulls himself up to his feet. The way he stands in front of you, towering over your sitting form with his arms crossed menacingly, you faintly remember in the back of your head that you should be afraid of him. The moonlight from your windows lights his silhouette like a halo, his face hidden from you as you stare up at him. He could hurt me, you think. Why hasn't he, yet?

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says plainly.

"Excuse me?" You shift, wishing you had a mask of your own.

"You can say no to me. Give me back the drive and I'll leave. You'll never see me again." Your eyes flit over Red Robin's face at his words, wishing desperately that you could see his face so that maybe you could begin to guess what's going on in his mind. But he stays standing, shrouded in the darkness of night as he looks down on you, his posture straight and his muscles taut. He's… offended, you think maybe. Huh. 

"If I thought you were going to hurt me, I wouldn't be so apt to keep letting you into my home," you say softly. The muscles of his forearms tighten where his arms are crossed and you wince internally at the words you chose. Wrong answer, you think. Somewhere fuzzy in the back of your mind, you consider the possibility that you might make him angry enough that he does hurt you.

"Are you letting me in? Really? Could you find a way to keep me out if you wanted to?" Red Robin points out. You freeze, your mind spinning at the insinuation of his words - at the reminder that the two of you are inherently on uneven footing. No matter how much he tries to hide his teeth behind a wolfish grin, you are still a lamb led to slaughter every time he slips through your balcony door.

"Yes," you say stubbornly. "I would ask you to leave… and you would. That's all I ever need to keep you out." Your fingers tangle in the blanket that's thrown haphazardly over your couch as you wait for his response. Tell me I'm right, you think pleadingly. Tell me you'll listen when I tell you to stay or go. 

Red Robin's shoulders slouch, his posture deflating as he sags, bending to sit perched on the edge of your coffee table and look at you. He reaches forward with a slowness that has to be deliberate, using gentle fingers to brush a stray strand of hair from your face before he pulls back quickly.

"Yes," he says, and his voice rings with a conviction that you haven't heard from him before. "That's all you'll ever need. Say the word and I leave. Or… or say the word and I… stay." You release a breath at his words, leaning back to sag against your couch and look him up and down.

There's a silence that hangs between the two of you, bated breath held by Tim as he waits for your response. Please tell me to stay, he wants to beg. Please tell me you believe me. Please let me keep you safe. He watches as your eyes flit over him, mulling over his words as you make your decision. I'm a dog with a bloody muzzle, I know, but it will never be your blood on my teeth.

"Leave the drive with me," your words snap him out of his inner spiralling and Red Robin straightens, the wood of your coffee table legs shifting slightly under his weight. "I'll let you know when - if I find something."

He nods stiffly and stands, stepping over your legs easily to make his way back to your door. Your hand shooting out to grab onto his stops him in his tracks, though, and when he looks down at you, you pull back, opening your mouth to utter an apology. Before you can, though, he crouches in front of you again, reaching to take your hand back into his, his brow furrowed in sudden worry.

"Next time you come around…" you begin, and his heart thumps at the over-confident, teasing tone that's made its way back into your voice. "Don't sit on my coffee table like that. You'll break it. The couch arms, too. I have real chairs for a reason." Red Robin laughs and squeezes your hand before letting it go and standing, moving back towards your balcony door.

"I'll keep that in mind… for next time," he says, sliding the door open. Before he slips through it and into the darkness, though, he stops to look at you one last time.

"It's your fault, you know," he says plainly.

"What?"

"You never told me what your rate is."

"What are you talking about?" You sigh.

"I can't pay you… I don't know how much I owe you. You haven't told me what you're charging," he points out. You stare back at him, and although the shadows obscure his masked face once again, you find it doesn't bother you so much.

"...you don't owe me anything, Red. You never will," you say gently. He doesn't smile this time - instead, an emotional little noise gets punched out of his lungs before he nods his head, slipping out into the night and closing your door silently behind him. As you sit on the couch, turning the memory drive over in your hands, you hear the faint click of the door being locked again somehow from the outside and you smile to yourself. It doesn't seem too bad to have a wolf at your door some nights.

[astronomoney]

Pairing: Tim Drake x nb!reader (it’s not super romance heavy but I might do a part two)

Prompts: n/a this is purely self indulgent

Summary: sometimes life gives you lemons and sometimes life tells you your best friend and the guy you hate are the same person, your not sure what’s worse

Warnings: n/a

A/n: is this canon compliant? no. does it make much sense? not really. do I like and did I have fun writing it? absolutely. read at your own risk Masterlist also this should be totally nb but if you see anything that’s gender solid please let me know so I can fix it

Word count: 2k it got to long but there’s plenty of material for a second part (wink wink nudge nudge)

Secrets Spilled

Rich people suck. More specifically, rich teenagers suck. You should know, you go to school with one. Tim Drake, the pride and joy of Gotham Academy and the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Was he actually adopted? You didn’t remember but that didn’t matter. Mr. Wayne has a habit of picking up strays almost as bad as Batman and Tim Drake was lucky enough to end up under his umbrella of wealth.

You had 3 classes with Tim Drake. He was smart and most of the teachers liked him well enough, in fact most of the school liked him. You however hated him. Sure he was cute and he seemed nice enough and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it but something about him was just off. Like he had some big secret or something.

No one at school seemed to agree with you on that. They all thought he was a perfect angel so you stopped trying to convince them of your anti-drake agenda a long time ago. Thankfully you had one person in your life who always listened to your rants.

“He sounds like a douchebag,” Red Robin said, sitting cross legged on your bed with an ice pack against his lip. Through some minor computer shenanigans, aka illegal hacking (nothing to bad), you had met and become close friends with none other than Red Robin.

It was a mutually beneficial friendship. For him it was an apartment almost exactly halfway between safe houses so on nights like tonight when he was a little bloody and bruised he’d stop by and you’d help patch him up. For you it was a captivated audience for your late night rants.

“Oh he totally is! Thank you for that, no one ever agrees with me,” You rolled your eyes thinking about how many times you’d heard people gush about the billionaire brat. You sat down across from him and opened the first aid kit you’d just dug out from under your bed.

You were too busy rifling through the various bandages and ointments to notice your vigilante friend desperately trying to hide his smirk. “Yeah no problem,”

“He’s way smart too, which is super annoying.” You found the healing gel you were looking for. “I swear he’s hiding something, he must be like an alien or a robot or-” You looked up to see a laugh-suppressing-grin on the heros face, “Don’t laugh, I'm serious! This guy is a pain and just because he’s hot people let it slide!”

Red's face went completely serious and you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks tint pink underneath his domino mask but then again his left side had a sizable cut on it so you really couldn’t tell. “You- you think he’s hot?”

“That is so not the point I'm trying to make!” You rolled your eyes and dabbed a bit of gel on the cut. “But yeah, his looks are like, his only redeeming quality.” Once you had laid a thin layer against the cut you used some butterfly bandages to hold it closed. It was exactly pretty but it would heal well, and the gel would make it nothing but a small scar in a week or so. “You know, you kinda look like him. Is that what you're hiding?” You used this opportunity to tap the bottom edge of the mask, resisting the urge to just take it off right then. “Rugged good looks and a billionaire smile.”

“Oh ha ha,” He retorted sarcastically, lightly moving your hand away from the fabric. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to know his identity. It’s not that he didn’t want to tell you, it’s just that he’d heard you complain about his alter ego enough times to worry about your reaction, plus the whole ‘your-life-would-be-in-constant-danger-if-you-knew’ thing. Lately he’d found himself going out of his way to end up knocking on your window and he didn’t want what you had to change.

“You're no fun.” You huffed, hoping off the bed stashing the first-aid kit once again. You heard a small buzz and knew that Red had gotten an alert.

He stood up, and listen for a second. You could only guess he was getting instructions via earpiece. “Got it, I’m on my way.” He called over coms before turning back to you with an apologetic look.

You spoke before he could get an apology out. “Let me guess, some goon’s breaking open an ATM and everyone else is busy?”

“Pretty much yeah,” He ducked under your windowsill onto your fire escape. “Thanks for the help. I don’t know where I'd be without you.”

“Probably at that robbery already,” You gently shoved him the rest of the way through the window and bid him farewell. You watched him grapple off into the dim moonlight before getting back into your bed. Over the past few weeks you’d started staying up later just in case a certain someone happened by, this of course made that full 8 hours a little harder to come by. You didn’t really care though, a little less sleep for a little more time with him seemed like a fair trade.

The next morning finally came and you weren’t exactly pleased to hear the familiar beeping of your alarm clock. Still you forced yourself out of bed, pulled your uniform on and got your stuff together before heading out the door to another day at Gotham Academy.

You didn’t have any classes with Tim on Friday’s but you usually saw him passing you in the hall or at lunch. Today was different. One might even say he was avoiding you, but why. You saw a glimpse of him quickly heading away from you before second period, and at lunch you got a great view of the back of his head for about 30 seconds before he ducked out to go who knows where. Sure, you weren’t exactly friends but today it seemed he’d gone completely out of his way to make sure you didn’t see him. And it was pretty successful, at least until you literally collided with him.

School had let out and you had almost left the building before you remembered you’d left something behind, on your way back to your locker you turned a corner without caution and slammed into him at full force. It was a classic early 2000s movie scene, papers and books flying and strewn across the floor, both parties crouching down to collect up their scattered items and inevitably accidentally grabbing the wrong paper or two.

“Ah sorry, i’m so sorry I didn’t see-” That’s when you actually saw who it was you’d bumped into. “Tim?” You handed him the printed out english paper that definitely wasn’t yours.

“Sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” He apologized as you both stood up and placed your papers in your respective books bags. Something about him was even more off then usual. He wouldn’t even meet your eyes, in fact he kept his gaze firmly to his left. Maybe he’d somehow heard you complain about him and now he wanted nothing to do with you. Maybe you’d messed it all up.

You were about to awkwardly say bye and shuffle off when a locker a little ways away from you slammed shut, startling you both and causing Tim to finally look to his right.

“Whoa what happened to your face?” You asked leaning in slightly to see the hefty gash that had been carefully held together with butterfly bandages. “That looks just like,” It clicked. “hOLY-”

“SHHH!” Tim acted fast, he clapped a hand over your mouth, effectively putting your mind shattering realization on silent and rushed the both of you into a thankfully unlocked maintenance closet nearby.

Suddenly a bajillion pieces were falling into place in your mind. Tim cursed. “God, if you know now what I think you know you’re gonna have a lot of questions. So I'm gonna move my hand but you have to be quiet about it. Ok?” He spoke softly and full of concern. After all, he may have just caused a massive overload in your brain. Your kind of enemy and your closest confidant were the same damn person, who knows what that could do to someone’s psyche.

You nodded profusely, still unable to even conjure a sound. Slowly Tim lifted his hand away from your mouth and watched you closely. You didn’t say anything for a beat, you just stared back at him and then, “What the actual fuck! You’re him and he’s- which means- I mean all this time- and… what?!?”

“Umm yeah?” In all honesty this was going better than Tim had imagined it would. Whenever he’d envisioned you finding out it usually started with you cursing him out and ended with you never talking to him again, but now here he was. You hadn’t cursed him out exactly and you were kind of still talking to him so overall, better than expected. “I wanted to tell you ages ago I swear. I just know how you feel about… well me,” He gestured down to his civilian attire. “and I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“All this time,” You were still definitely in shock. “All this time you were him and he was you! And you never told me! I talked about you to you! I called you hot!”

“Oh yeah, thanks by the way.” A shit eating grin had made its way onto his face and you were not pleased.

“Oh fuck off!” You sunk down to sit on a little step stool that happened to be in the closet. “I can’t believe I was so dumb. I mean how did I not see it sooner!”

Tim crouched down in front of you. “To be fair, we put a lot of effort into keeping our secrets.”

“We? Wait a second! If you’re Red Robin, that makes Batman-”

“Yup.”

“And Nightwing-”

“Oh yeah.”

“So Robin is-”

“A total pain in the ass. But yeah, it’s Damian.”

“Holy shit!”

Tim finally let himself laugh a bit at your reaction. You were smart and he knew that, there had been a few times over the past few weeks when he thought you might put it all together and he’d gone out of his way to cover it up. Including (but not limited to) a leaked story to the tabloids about a Tim-Drake-kidnapping-attempt that was thwarted by the one and only Red Robin.

While the tabloids weren’t the most believable sources it had planted a seed in your brain that Red Robin and Tim Drake were in the same place at the same time. Of course thanks to that cut on his cheek he wouldn’t need to lie to you anymore.

“Don’t laugh! I can’t believe I didn’t see this months ago. I mean your stupid mask doesn't even cover that much!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air to emphasize your point.

Tim lightly grabbed your arms and brought them back down. “Ok ok, i’m serious but you seriously need to calm down.” He still had a massive grin on his face.

“I am calm!” You defended. “I mean considering. Wait, how did this start? Did you have to train long? When did you find out who Batman was? Is he really a Vampire?” You rattled off questions a mile a minute, finally the shock and slight annoyance had given way to pure curiosity.

Tim looked around the small maintenance room, contemplating a really bad idea. “I can’t explain anything else here, but if you want I can take you to the Batcave? I mean you’ve already guessed most of the secrets and even if I don't tell you the rest you’ll probably figure it out anyway.”

a/n: I broke 2k and couldn’t figure out a satisfying ending so I just called it here but if y’all show this one some love i’ll do a part too (guest appearances and everything)

taglist: @starship-argo @reveriecore @luvcoy @instabull @littlered-fangirl click here to be added :)

[ephemerensis]

Enough // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

Y/N is a vigilante moment even though i hate writing Y/N as a vigilante but I needed to write smth about an inferiority complex 2 cope asf and this is the only thing that made sense lmaoo i have finals this whole week pls send thots and prayers love u guys <3 HURT AND COMFORT + not proofread per usual

—

“Currently northbound, everything checks out. How’s it looking on your end?”

Tim’s voice sounded muffled behind the wind. He was using comms mid swing again, despite your countless protests against it for his safety.

“Everything is fine here too. I just checked the last two blocks.”

Or maybe he was just on a rooftop. It was windy after all, especially higher up where you were perched now, overlooking a small corner of the city.

“Sounds good, I’ll see you back at the cave.”

It bit into the side of your face, the parts your mask didn’t cover, chilled fingers running their course across your cheeks. A shiver ran down your spine. Your cape billowed violently beside you, sitting on the precipice as you were it felt as if it could pick you up at any moment. But tonight you didn’t particularly mind.

“Copy that.”

You had no intention of going back. At least not yet. There weren’t any cases to solve or villains to plot against and while it was nice to live in a place full of kind faces and warm gestures, it was difficult to hear your own thoughts when they were being drowned out by the ever flowing conversation of twelve other voices. Nights like these were your own.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you inhaled. If you focused on it enough, letting go of your mind to let it wander, it almost felt as if you were flying. Almost.

How did you get here?

The wind billowed noisily in your ears but in the silence of tempestuous isolation the question rung so clearly in your mind, it clung like the lingerings of a bell chime.

Of course you knew how you got on the roof. And you knew how to get home. And you knew you had a home.

You were happy— undoubtedly you were happy. Your friends were wonderful, your boyfriend loved you; if you didn’t blink twice the world would think you had it all.

Somehow you didn’t though. That’s how you got here. Because you don’t belong.

You felt the cold bite of your tears along your cheeks before you registered them falling.

It was easier some days to forget it; the days when everyone lounged around at home, fighting tooth and nail to avoid taking out the trash. When you wrestled with Jason over TV programs because he wanted to rewatch Riverdale “for the irony of it.” Arguing with Tim on some obscure rooftop about which Spiderman was the best one. Dinners with the family, feasing over Alfred’s food.

But you didn’t belong and you knew it.

Two weeks ago you lost a lead on the disappearances happening around downtown that Tim had to rectify for you. Before that, you scuffed a mission by getting caught; the others had to save you. What good were you?

Even if you did succeed. Your feats were nothing another couldn’t accomplish. It took you three weeks to right a low profile burglary, when Cass could’ve done it in three days. And you tried. As much as anyone could you tried, but trying isn’t enough because effort means nothing when it amounts to mediocrity.

The truth was, even with a full hand— you didn’t deserve your cards. The rest of them and the trauma they faced before getting here; what did you ever suffer for but a few minor inconveniences?

You don ’t belong.

And it was infuriating.

You don’t have the skill. You don’t have the talent. You don’t even have a sob story to your name. You are nothing and nothing you could ever do would be good enough. You would never be good enough.

“Hey.” A voice behind you drew you out of your thoughts, making you whip your head around. You’d thrown the knife you had in hand at the intruder before you could process it, habitually. It hit the door leading to the rooftop with a thud as a figure moved to avoid it. The black boots of Red Robin’s suit emerged from the shadows as he approached you with his hands up.

“Woah! Hey, it’s just me.”

The tension in your body settled as soon as you registered the symbol sprawled across his chest, turning yourself back around to resume your previous position.

“You could’ve radioed me.”

The boy shrugged as he perched himself beside you, legs dangling over the edge, mimicking you.

“You didn’t answer when I did.”

“Oh. I guess I just didn’t hear it.”

His eyes were on you as you stared at the skyline. Your hands were fidgeting, kneading the air between each other in something akin to discomfort. A beat of silence passed until he broke it.

“Wanna know a secret?”

Relief flooded your bones. If he asked you what was wrong you wouldn’t know what to say. It’s not like you could lie, not to him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell the truth.

“What happened?”

“Well, I was texting and grappling— like you said was stupid, and I hit a brick wall. And then I went home and told you I got into a huge fight that was super valiant and dangerous! Do you remember?“

You snorted. Two months ago he came back limping through the cave. His nose was broken, wrist was sprained, among other things. You gave him an earful then about how reckless he was that night after patching him up.

“You’re joking! I was worried sick when you just stopped texting me and then when you came back I felt terrible for not being there.” He shrugged again with a small smile.

“It was embarrassing! What else was I supposed to say? To be fair, the wall was looking pretty suspicious, I had to neutralize the target… But yeah! I’m not perfect— go figure!” You leaned over, resting your head on his shoulder with a chuckle.

“Honestly I think we should revoke your phone privileges.”

“How would I talk to you then?”

“I guess we’ll just have to ask Bruce about telepathy tech.” You felt his shoulders shake beneath your head as he laughed. His hand hand grabbed yours before you realized it earlier, drawing shapes over your palm with his gloved fingers.

“Wanna know something else?”

“What else, Timberly?” His nose crinkled at the nickname.

“I had the worst insomnia like three years ago! Which, it’s not like I don’t pull all-nighters anymore but I’m improved I swear! Wanna know what fixed it?”

“Oh please don’t say something corny, I might throw up.” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to prevent the impending smile from forming.

“You thought I was gonna say you? Funny. Silly! Wrong!”

You gasped comically, pulling away, before slapping his arm with the hand he wasn’t holding.

“Timothy Jackson Drake!” He let go of your hand altogether to fish his phone out of his pocket with a coy smile planted firmly under his mask.

“Not so loud! My identity’s at stake.” After tapping at his screen for a few moments, he handed you the phone, “This is my one stop shop tried and true remedy for sleep support.”

Taking it, you took a look. You hadn’t taken the picture. Which makes sense because you were sleeping in it, on one of the couches in the manor on a sunny afternoon. Your nose was crinkled slightly because the sun was in your face, but it made it look like your skin was glowing.

Handing it back, internally satiated but outwardly bashful, you rolled your eyes, “So it was me anyways.”

“You should feel honored I’m blessing you with it! Any thoughts I have that keep me from sleeping? Gone! You’re pretty cool Y/N. I’ve never needed someone like I need you.”

Ah. So he knew. Wordlessly he knew.

“You need me?”

Somehow he always did. And all this was to make you feel better. And it did.

“Yeah. We all do.”

[froggyfics]

Left Behind

Tim works so hard. He works so hard that he neglects important relationships in his life.

again with the angst! Sorry, not sorry.

This is gonna get some of y'all in the feels, but I hope this fic is a reminder to never settle for less than what you deserve. You deserve to be happy!

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome! 

Pairing: Tim Drake x gn!reader

Theme: Angst 

Word Count: 1,746

Being stood up is awkward. It probably wouldn’t be so awkward at some 24-hour raggedy diner, because lots of people eat alone at places like that. But, no one, literally no one, goes to eat alone at a five-star restaurant. Being alone in a place like this automatically makes others assume that you got stood up.

To be fair, your behavior only confirms their suspicions. You fidget constantly, looking around the restaurant for any sign of him. You check your phone countless times. You reread your text messages to see if you got the timing wrong. The waiter passes by…again. There are only so many times they can refill your glass of water before it becomes downright humiliating. 

“Ugh- no,” You groan as you place your hands on your forehead to hide your face. You can feel people at the neighboring tables stare at you. The hair on your arms and neck prickle in embarrassment. How much longer do you wait for him? Enough time has already passed to make you assume that he’s either forgotten or is in some sort of life-or-death situation that makes him incapable of giving you a heads up. If he hasn’t arrived by now, he probably won’t come. 

Defeated, you wave the waiter over and explain the situation. Or a shortened version of it.

“You know what? I was actually supposed to meet someone here, and uh- well, you see-, they, uh- got into an accident, so…”

You left the restaurant that night with an empty belly and abandonment issues. You pull out your phone and begin to type out a text message to Tim.

Guess you’re not coming haha. 

You hit the backspace button on your keyboard. No, don’t say that.

You stupid son of a bit-

Nope, not that either.

You sigh and place your phone back. You’ll text him later that night. 

You recall him sweetly saying just a few days prior, “I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go, my love.” He nuzzled your neck before leaving hot kisses all around your neck, face, and lips. His voice was laced with honey. But after being stood up, you realize his voice was laced with something else: arrogance.

He knew you would become putty in his hands. He knew that you could never stay mad at him for very long. That’s the kind of effect Tim Drake had of you. You could never say no to him. It truly was a terrible cycle. You oftentimes would wonder why you and Tim could never work it out. You’d give him a chance, and he’d eventually shatter your heart. You would become infuriated and hateful. He would apologize so sincerely that you had no choice but to run back into his arms. Then, he’d break his promises again and leave you devastated. You two would break things off again, but eventually, you’d go back to wondering why you two couldn’t just work it out. As if the answer wasn’t right in front of you already. 

What Tim couldn’t fathom was that he was the endgame for you. You wanted him so badly it hurt. You wanted the bare minimum from him, because you knew that’s all Tim could give you. And you would be satisfied with that. Except Tim could only give you the bare minimum for so long. Eventually, even the bare minimum would be too much for him. And for some reason, you just took it. Because you loved him. You wanted to settle down with him and have kids with this man.  And you believed that he loved you, too. And love is supposed to overcome any obstacle, right? Right?

You weren’t so sure anymore. There was no denying it, you were getting older. Your family was sending you hints about starting a family of your own. More and more of your friends were getting married or moving in with their significant others or having children. Everyone seemed to be moving forward in their relationships. And yet you struggled to even get Tim to go out on a date with you. 

Was it you? Were you the problem? Were you not understanding enough? Tim had so much on his plate. He was the least likely of the Batboys to have downtime. Bruce and Tim were so alike in that way. They worked themselves to the bone, neglecting anyone who dared to care about them. Like they say: like father, like son. 

You naively thought you could change Tim, at least. And you did! Sort of. Temporarily. Your relationship was very hot and cold. When it was hot, you were an inseparable pair. But when you were cold, it was as if you didn’t even exist to Tim. 

Your contemplation of your relationship continued as you reach your home. You weren’t even mad anymore. You just felt incredible loneliness. What’s a home if you have no one to share it with?

It takes guts to admit that you want to have what everyone else seems to have. To fall in line with the crowd. You want someone to come home to. You want someone to wake up to. You want someone who you’ll fight with. You want someone to make love with. You want someone to make you feel like your relationship actually exists in the real world. 

You pull out your phone once more. What should you say?

Hey, should we reschedule?

No! That doesn’t feel right. It felt inauthentic to brush over the pain you were feeling. You hit backspace and begin again.

Tim, I love you so much, but I can’t keep doing this with you. My heart hurts. My heart’s bleeding for you. I’d die for you, but I’m dying because of you now. Please tell me how to fix things. Please tell me what I can do to make you love me. I love you. I don’t want to continue things like this. I’m begging-

You stop typing. Tears make your cheeks their new home. What is wrong with you?! Where was your self-respect? You love Tim, but where was the love you had for youself? 

You look outside your window. You see the moonlight stream in. You knew that within just a few hours, the moon will be replaced by the sun, and then the process will be repeated the next day, and the day after. You hear birds squawking outside. You know they’ll migrate south during the winter, and then come back north during the summer, and they’ll continue the process for generations. You look at the grass outside. You know it’ll dry up in the winter, and regrow in the spring, and continue that pattern.

What you didn’t know was is Tim would be yours tomorrow. Hell, you weren’t even sure if he was yours tonight. If he was ever yours to begin with. You always wanted to be an adaptable person, always ready for life’s unpredictability. But sometimes, it’s nice to have things to look forward to. It’s nice to be able to live on the safe side. It’s nice to not have to live on the edge, unsure if you going to be loved or discarded that day. 

It’s also nice to put yourself first for once. It’s nice to protect your heart and your sanity, even if it means losing the person you thought you’d grow old with.

The sun comes shining through the one portion that the curtain doesn’t cover and hits Tim’s eyes. He groans, upset that though his eyes are closed, he can feel the heat of the sun. It felt like he slept for two seconds last night. He groggily sat up on his bed, blinking slowly. 

Coffee. His first conscious thought of the morning was about his need for coffee. He worked all through the night trying to crack a particularly difficult case. He felt like his efforts were meaningless though, as he didn’t get any closer to solving it. He lifts his arms above his head and stretcccchhhhesssss. 

Pop! “Ooh, yeah, that felt good,” he says to himself as his back joints pop. He takes a few moments for himself and enjoys his solitude.

He reaches to grab his undisturbed phone. He hasn’t looked at it for almost an entire day. Correction: he didn’t have the time to look at his phone for almost an entire day.

He has so many notifications. Some from friends. Some from family. He’ll read them later. Just as he’s about to put his phone away, he notices the notifications from you. 

Okay, he’ll reply to you, but then he must go back to the Batcave and work. 

He clicks on your name and immediately, dread strikes through him. He sees the several messages you sent him last night about your date.

He smacks his forehead with his palm, as your messages remind him of the date you two were supposed to go on yesterday. He knows he messed up. Again. For the billionth time. 

Hi ❤️ I’m about to reach the restaurant. Can’t wait to see youuuuuu ❤️❤️❤️❤️

I’m sitting at a table that’s towards the back, go left when you enter

Lemme know when you’re close ❤️❤️❤️

Hey, what’s your ETA?

Timmy! Did something come up? Are you coming?

I called, but you didn’t pick up. Please let me know if you’re still coming

Are you coming or not? Everyone’s staring at me

Please pick up

Tim, please don’t do this to me

Once he’s done reading your message, he makes a promise to himself and to you that he’ll make up for it. You’ll understand. After all, this isn’t the first time this has happened. You were angry before, but you got over it. You always do. 

He clicks on your name and calls you. He’s already formulating an apology in his head. He knows just what to say to break down your inhibitions and your reservations about him. Just as he puts the phone to his ear, just as his apology has already made its way from his brain down to the tip of his tongue, just when he hears a ring and he thinks the line connects and that you’ll answer, he hears an automated voice.

“I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

[anothertimdrakestan]

Body - Tim Drake x Reader

the one where you realized tim really was the world's greatest detective. or, tim finally tells you how he feels. (play under the influence c brown for full experience)

also note, this is not little teenage tim drake, this is the detective even ras al ghul respects, and the man who knows what he wants. not my usual fanon tim but who cares <3

"Yeah, you fucked this one up." you rolled your eyes as Tim typed away on the his computer.

"First of all, no I didn't, second of all, shut up not like you could've done better." he chided in response. After the two of you had discovered a massive laundering scheme it was your opinion that busting the operation in person, weapons out, was the best plan. Tim had instead, let henchmen get away under the guise of "detective work" his plan to out the scheme to the public and let gotham pd handle the rest.

Only problem was, he was yet to "detective the shit out of them" as he'd promised. Not that you didn't believe in Tim, you two had been working together for a few months as you'd come under the protection of the batfamily. But you'd yet to seek something truly detective-like out of him beyond the few cases you two had worked on.

"I can still head over there, it's an easy fight timbers" you groaned, leaning forward in your chair to rest your head on his shoulder, glancing at the computer as if you could understand it. Tim didn't react, the two of you had been growing close for weeks, living in the same house meant as much.

"Y/n, you know as well as I do that's a waste of time, energy, and risk. I've got this handled please. Just go train or something if you can't bore yourself here." The challenge to leave was an empty one, but you didn't like how easily he brushed you off. You grumbled in response, "some detective" knowing that always got him riled up.

"I really, really don't want to do this right now," he muttered. "Do what, detective" venom dripped from your lips, Tim slightly pushed your head off his shoulder, sitting up in his chair, turning his head to shoot daggers back at you.

"Believe it or not, it's done. I'll take your apologies now." he smirked, pointing to the screen. You rolled your eyes glancing at the post and GPD tracker showing police en-route to the base you'd wanted to bust yourself.

"Still not impressive, where's the real detective work?" you challenged, leaning back in your chair with a dangerous grin, loving the fiery energy the two of you had created.

Tim shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he met your eyes. "Does detective work on you count?" cocking his head, feigning sultry innocence as your facade faltered.

"What does that mean?" you withdrew from the heat, watching in subdued panic as Tim pulled up a file with your name on it. "You think I haven't done anything these last few weeks? You're right. I've done nothing but watch you." his voice was low, almost a whisper. You felt your heart beat in your ears.

"Now, please don't think this is surface level detective work. But, if you want the file on your middle name, parents, social security number, or past addresses that's right here [he opened a file brimming with top secret information] I pulled that together for Bruce months ago. You want something worth noticing?" he paused, a dangerous grin forming as you leaned into his every word.

"A real detective notes body language, he traces delicate patterns his subject doesn't even observe" he purred, clicking on a file that opened hundred of videos and pictures of you and him. "Do you even notice your own affinity for me?" he looked deep into your eyes, his own beaming with excitement as you sat further back in your chair.

Quickly, his hand snapped to your knees, holding them in place you glanced down to his hand all the way back to up his eyes, which bore into yours.

"Did you know humans tend to direct themselves towards those they care about?" he chided. "And here you are, knees pointed at me when you could've sat in any other position, and this isn't an anomaly; detectives, [he slowed down on the word just for you] detectives check for that." withdrawing this hand from your thighs he pulled videos where you obviously turn your entire attention to him, videos where you inch closer to him no matter his position, and videos where your eyes swept his entire body. He had caught dangerous moments you hadn't even consciously thought about.

You felt your face heat up, unable to speak you sat carefully waiting for his next remark. With a confident grin he leaned forward, pushing a fallen piece of hair behind your ear. His face so close you could feel his warm breath on your face as he said, "look at you, hanging on my every word, what happened to my bold, reckless y/n?" he cocked his head to the side as you drew in a breath.

He spoke before you even found the words, "no matter, I wasn't quite done yet. Lets look at some battles, see how your feelings for me manifest in your natural habitat." he pulled up videos where it was clear your attention was focused on him. You'd take hits if it meant glancing his way, rarely did you let him get ahead of you, even if it meant brutally forcing enemies out of the way. "Look at all that fire, burning up for me?" he couldn't help but grin as you felt your heart rate increase.

"I- why did you even do this?" you choked out, thinking of the hours he had to have invested in just watching you. Now it was his turn to falter in confidence, a more gentle smile gracing his lips. "Honestly, I was bored. And wanted to know if you felt the same way." he mumbled, letting his inner nerd shine through. You felt able to breathe again, still in shock from the detail of the information he'd gathered.

"You could've just told me you liked me." you gave Tim a light shove, your own confidence regrowing. "Fair, but this was far more impressive, and entertaining," Tim grinned.

"I cant deny that bird brain" you mumbled before continuing, "so what happens now?" you glanced from the computer back to Tim and his eyes lit up.

"Well, your body language speaks for you," he said matter-of-factly.

"You're blushing," his hand swept over your cheek, you leaned into his touch before he pulled it away.

"Your whole body is facing me," his eyes slowly danced down every curve of your figure, pulling all the way back up to your face, stopping at your lips, finally meeting your eyes.

"Gorgeous, breathtaking eyes meeting mine," he whispered, letting you squirm in the silence he had created.

"And what does that say?" you leaned in, hoping he could grasp the hint.

"It says I should kiss you." he whispered bluntly, before closing the distance between the two of you, locking your lips in his. Smiling into the kiss you pulled away just for an instant, catching your breath before pulling him in for more.

"very good, detective"