#red robin fluff

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

I've let this wolf into my home (I feed it even when it bites)

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

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.5k

genre: fluff ??

warnings: you don't know red robin and timmy are the same person but he sure knows you, he's also so so awkward but he can't help it

a/n: alright alright alright here we go <3

The jingle of the coffee shop door opening startles you, your head snapping up from where you're sitting, slouched over in the corner. It's a 24-hour shop, yes, but who else would really be here at 3am? The barista behind the counter looks just as surprised, blinking rapidly and looking at the person who came in.

You, on the other hand, opt not to, sighing and looking back down at your table, instead. The coffee in your to-go cup is still hot, burning your fingers as you shift them over the label. It's bright, a cartoonish sort of thing that grins up at you like an old friend you should be happier to see. You've been getting this coffee for years. You're never quite as happy as you should be.

The chair opposite you makes a horrible sort of sound as it's pulled out and you look up to see who's sitting across from you. You purse your lips in annoyance while he just looks at you.

"All the other tables have just been cleaned. They're wet," he points out. You let your eyes flit around the cafe, the tabletops shining wetly in the dull glow of the lights, the disinfectant bottle still sitting abandoned on one of them.

"Lucky me," you bite back, taking a sip of your coffee. It's sweet - too sweet, but not enough to cover the bitterness of the burnt grounds. You always think that if you pile enough sugar into it, it'll mask what's wrong. You're never right.

The man sitting opposite you takes a sip of his own - he left it black, you notice. He grimaces slightly at the taste, but keeps drinking anyway. There's no effort there to pretend it's anything other than what it is - burnt, cheap coffee sold to him in a cafe full of ghosts, in a city that should be sleeping but never really does. It's interesting, you think, as you look out the window and into the dark street. You'd almost managed to convince yourself that you were really alone - that there was no one else in this world except you, until he walked in and broke the reverie of your 3am silence.

For what it's worth, Tim regretted it as soon as he'd walked in. He hadn't meant to stay, really - ending up in a part of Gotham he didn't often find himself in, in his civvies and in desperate need of a hot cup of coffee and a long sleep, he'd stumbled across the flickering, neon sign of a 24-hour coffee shop.

What good luck, he'd thought. Now, sitting across from you, there's a desperate little part of him that thinks maybe it wasn't just that - maybe it was intuition that drew him here. You don't know who he is, of course, all your previous meetings happening in the shadows of your home with his face hidden from you. Tim shifts in his seat, suddenly aware of how naked he feels, exposed to your wandering eyes. 

And you do let your eyes wander, narrowing them suspiciously as you take him in. Tim feels a pang of guilt that surprises him when he thinks that this is probably how you've always felt with him - like a lamb with a wolf at your door. As you lean back in your chair, swirling your coffee and letting your gaze trail away from him and towards the window, he feels his shoulders drop in relief. He's not the only wolf in your living room late at night, he realizes. You've got teeth of your own that he'd just never noticed.

You're good at this, Tim thinks with a start - you've got a foot propped up on the window sill next to you, your head resting in your hand as you watch the street outside idly. Or, at least, it's supposed to look like that. He thinks that if he were anyone normal, he would believe it. But Tim has spent enough time as prey to know when someone's pretending to let their guard down.

He looks away from you almost forcefully, staring down at his cup and running his tongue over his teeth as he thinks of the burnt taste of it. He wonders if you were smart enough to put sugar in yours - wise enough to bury the bitterness with something nicer. It's something he always thinks he should do. He can never quite make himself. 

"I'm sure those other tables are dry now." Your voice makes him flinch, a hard, forceful thing that cuts through the silence of the night that's blanketed the two of you. Tim looks around at the dull, streaky tabletops and shrugs. 

"I'm already comfortable here," he offers. You cock your head to the side and look at him, but make no move to fight him on it. He thinks it's probably stupid of him, inviting a lion into his home like this. He wonders if you feel the same way every time he slides in through your balcony door.

There's a silence that, once more, overtakes the two of you as he shifts in his seat. Tim wonders if he should drink faster, if he should pretend to be finished so that he can leave. It's funny, he thinks, how he finally felt like he'd stopped running away when he started running into you. It's funny that, now, he's itching for it, his hands gripping his cup in an attempt to still his heart - his need to escape.

You look back at him just in time to see him squeeze a little too hard, the cheap plastic lid popping off and hot coffee sloshing a bit over his hands. A mild, bemused sort of look crosses your face as you watch him curse and splutter as the coffee burns his hands and spills onto the table. Then, without a word, you stand up and begin to walk away.

Tim, in the meantime, is rubbing his hands against his jeans, his eyes squeezed shut in mortification as he wonders how he ruined it all so quickly. Not for the first time, he wishes he was in the mask - thinks maybe the only way to hold onto you is to make sure that's all you ever see. But then your cup scrapes across the table and he opens his eyes to see you sitting opposite him again, sipping idly and watching. There's a stack of napkins that he swore wasn't there before and - oh.

"Thanks," is all he can make himself say as he grabs them, cleaning up the mess he's made. As he goes to pop the lid back onto his cup, he looks at the dark liquid inside and grimaces, deciding that maybe it's not worth it.

"It's shit coffee," you say, and he slams his hand against the table, crushing the plastic lid in the process. Truly, he's not sure if he's ever acted this nervous before. You pay it no mind. He thinks maybe he could take off his mask, just this once, and reaches up to his face in time to remember that he's already exposed to you. "You're better off finding something else… or just going somewhere else." Tim smiles, then, a charming sort of thing that has you narrowing your eyes.

"I dunno,' he says. "There's something I like about right here." You glance down at your own cup, at the label that you've picked and peeled off until it's unrecognizable, the colours torn and cracked.

"There's nothing good about right here. And things like that don't change." Tim looks at you for a long moment after you speak, letting the words tumble around his head before he stands, taking his cup and squished lid and pile of wet napkins with him. 

"Well, I've never been big on change, anyway," is all he says as he walks away, dumping everything in the bin and letting the bell on the door jingle as he walks out. Looking back down to the table, you notice the card he's left behind - the Wayne Ent. logo flashing behind his name. Flipping it over, his number's been written in a hasty scrawl.

As you thumb a corner of the card, you wonder when he'd slipped it onto the table - when he'd written on it. Mostly, you wonder what kind of person he'd have to be to do it without you noticing. You trace the numbers with your finger and think that something, far in the back of your mind, is telling you that there's a familiarity about it all. 

But what's familiar about seeing someone in a place where you never should? What's normal about that man, appearing like a ghost in the night and disappearing just as fast? As you pull out your phone to add his number to your contacts, there's a part of you that thinks maybe you should run away - that maybe you're not the only thing stalking the streets of Gotham this late.

[angelltheninth]

Nightwing, Red Hood and Red Robin with a touchstarved S/O?

That's me, I'm touch-starved.

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x Reader

Tags: fluff, protectiveness, kissing, PDA, cuddles, hand-holding, touch-starved Reader

A/N: Why isn't there more of this trio?

DICK

Can't bare to see you feeling down, he is quick to wrap you in a hug and twirl you in a circle as he kisses you and sits down on the couch with you in his lap. Until the end of the day he'll do precious little but cuddle and kiss you until you feel better. He's also available to talk about it if you want, he might not get everything that you feel but he can always listen to you and kiss you every times he sees that frown return to your face.

JASON

The real problem is figuring out which one of you is more touch-starved. However the good thing is that you know how the other feels better then anyone, and you can give each other what you need better then anyone. Those little cheek kisses, reaching for each other's hand at the same time and interlocking fingers, the needy and passionate kisses against the wall when you're craving so much contact that a simple touch won't do. You know what the other needs.

TIM

Showers you with attention any time he can to make sure you never forget how much you mean to him. He's constantly touching you in little ways when you're out on patrol, anything to ease your nerves and make you smile when he notices you feeling down. You never have to be shy to ask for any kind of touch when you're with him, he'll happily engage in PDA with you in front of your teammates and friends.

[saylorsaysstop]

How They Kiss | Bat Boys

The hottest question on the radar right now is how do these men kiss?

↪ Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! ⭐️

↪ My Masterlist

BRUCE WAYNE 🖤

The kisses that the crime-fighting playboy billionaire may potentially deliver are all based on his mood. If he's getting home late from saving Gotham, they're quick pecks on the mouth because typically you're in bed asleep. He'll glide his lips across your forehead, breathe in your scent that somehow is melatonin in human form, and he'll start getting ready for bed.

If he's out at events for Wayne Enterprises, such as the annual charity gala hosted in his late parent's name, he kisses you with passion. Deep strokes of his tongue when nobody is looking, a hand pressed to your waist. He kisses you like you're his most prized possession and he can't get enough of his lips on yours.

When sex is involved? Bruce is carnal. His tongue lavishes yours. Worships your mouth with his. Loves to tease your bottom lip and kiss you so deeply, that you can feel him on your mouth even when the night is over. Bruce is thorough with his kissing just like he is with everything else in his life.

DICK GRAYSON 💙

Dick loves a good smooch. He kisses gently in the mornings when you first wake up. He'll show up randomly at your work with flowers in hand and steal a couple of kisses, maybe even end up in the supply closet where the heat really cranks up.

Before he leaves for patrol, Dick doesn't believe in a goodbye kiss. He likes to call them 'see you later' kisses and those linger for longer than either of you anticipated. He strokes your cheek as his lips mold to yours. He tastes every inch of your mouth and licks away the hunger inch by inch as his tongue explores your mouth. You palm his perfect butt (that he's so eager for you to touch. He knows he's got a great set of glutes) and he caresses your hips.

Dick kisses deeply when he gets home from patrol. Albeit tired, his nerves skyrocket with serotonin when he arrives home and finds you waiting up for him. Once he's stripped of his suit and he's colliding with you in between the sheets, he bruises your mouth from how hard he kisses, his teeth teasing your bottom lip while he explores your body with his hands.

JASON TODD ❤️

Jason loves deep, languid strokes of his tongue across yours. When he has a light stubble on his chin, he loves the way you scratch his cheeks with your nails as you two kiss. His favorite kissing position is hands down you straddling his lap.

He kisses with precision. It's like every inch of your mouth that he touches, he sparks something new inside of you. Jason loves to battle for dominance with his tongue, where ultimately he wins. Says if your kiss was alcohol, he'd get drunk off you every single night.

Jason can't go to sleep without kissing you. He wants his hands on your body while his lips mold to every shape of you. Starts at your ankles, kisses up your calves, he'll kiss your belly and chest. Travels up your throat, light pecks to your face. He'll end with his mouth on yours where his entire weight will sink down on top of you and he's left making out with you until both of you are undressed and panting.

TIM DRAKE ☕️

He is the softest kisser of them all. Tim Drake never leaves without some form of lip balm in his pocket. Loves to have them soft and ready for when he can get a kiss from you. Tim loves to hold your face in his hands while he kisses you, stroking your tongue slowly with his. Needs you as close as humanly possible when his lips are on yours.

Tim needs to be kissed by you before every patrol. He can't function without some form of lip lock whether it's a peck or a full-on makeout session. It gives him a boost that even the strongest caffeine can't provide him with. You're his form of therapy and a drug he likes to say.

Kissing you involves a lot of hands-on movement. Tim loves to grip your hips in his hands and pull you flush to his chest. Loves to slant his mouth over yours and really gets off on feeling your breath on his lips just before you two seal your mouths together.

[fluffy-anna]

Tim Drake aka Red Robin wallpaper

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

As the poll results asked, here we go

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

@arrowheadedbitch

Here you go 🩷🩷🩷

[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.”

[nightwolf14292]

[lightwing-s]

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 | 𝐭. 𝐝.

pairing: tim drake x female!reader warnings: some swearing, canon usual violence, needles word count: 2,6k summary: nobody in their sane mind goes out to a park in gotham at fucking midnight, nobody except you.

a/n: so, I'm not used to writing for tim, so I hope this comes out okay for my tim girlies and that I do him any justice ^^ also, if anyone is interested in the playlist mentioned, you can check it out here and listen to it while reading this piece.

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

The night was a mess. Break ins, shooting, explosions, man-bats running around, and it was only midnight. Tim was already exhausted by that point, but there was still work to be done.

Bruce had members of the family scattered around town to get each and every single one of their problems tackled as quickly as possible. Thus, Tim was now chasing down a small group of man-bats that escaped from the attack on the financial district of Gotham and were now heading up towards the East End.

He struggled to keep them out of the crowded areas. It was friday night, so there were extra people out on the streets even with all the chaos going on around town. Some people just didn’t care. So, doing as best as he could, he managed to guide the creatures through a dark alley and send them to a probably empty park, a place where he could fight them without risking anybody’s safety along the way.

Far from defeating evil monsters, you, on the other hand, had great plans for you Friday night: laying in bed and watching silly 2000s rom coms with your roommate and best friend. Having to overstay at work once again, the only thing between you and your bed right now was a five kilometer walk through the streets and a dark park that would have scared you if you did not take this route every night of the week. Guess you’re used to it.

Putting on your headphones and setting the volume to the max, your mind shut off from your surroundings and allowed you to walk the path in peace. Chumbawama’s Tubthumping was playing loud in your ears as you dance-walked your way home. 

Music had that power over you. The power to take your mind away from anything. Every time you had an anxiety attack, or when things just started getting complicated in life, be it with school, work or your family, hiding behind a beat was your favorite solution to send the worries away. That’s why, the day you first walked your path home from your new job, playing your favorite childhood movie soundtrack, HSM, and singing it word by word, you managed to get home without crumbling to anxiety. So, it became your ritual, and like that you ended your week nights.

Behind you on your walk, though, things were not so simple.

Fighting off the man-bats with a single syringe of the antidote was not a clever idea, but it would have to do. At least, he only had three more to fight. With his grappling gun, he aimed at one of their wings, hitting it at first try and pulling it down with much strength. Now, standing on top of it, he stapled its wings down while worrying about the two others who were now giving him their undisputed attention. Fending them off with, basically, one hand, he turned to the trapped one and injected five milliliters of the solution, seeing it agonize in pain, but in no time it was back to being human.

One of the other two, without patience, grabbed at the arm he held the syringe, almost managing to make Tim drop it, but he was quick to change hands and, with his free one, injected it on the leg, making it fall from the sky immediately, carrying him along the way. He fell with a thud, already feeling the pain streaming from his shoulder. Laying there on the floor, he tried to catch his breath, but there was no time for rest. He needed to get the last one.

Stooding up, Tim looked at the syringe still safe in his hand, telling him there was around ten milliliters left of the antidote, enough to knock it down. However, looking up in search of the last survivor, he couldn’t find it anywhere. Where had it gone to? The man-bats were a boisterous bunch, screeching all the time and with heavy wings that announced their incoming from a mile radius. So how did this one escape without Tim noticing?

Being alone in the park, a silence soon took over. But that was short lived. In his search for the damned creature, Tim found out he wasn’t as alone in the park as he thought. 

Just further away from him, bouncing its heads and skipping down the stone road, was a girl. Headphones on, she didn’t seem to notice the commotion going on behind her, and for some reason, that had Tim infuriated. People’s carelessness these days were doing that to him, as if they acted like they really wanted to die. What the fuck!

Then, that’s when he found it. Bright red eyes hiding inside a bush right in front where the girl was walking through, ready to catch flight in her direction. Tim’s legs were already burning, but the way he sped up and ran to try and stop the thing from doing whatever it was in its mind, made the sensation go away with the built up adrenaline. He reached the monster before it could move too close, jumping at its back, grabbing it and dropping to the floor. Tim had his arm locked on its neck, giving it a rear naked choke, taking its breath slowly and making it lose its strength. Now, with ease, he inserted the syringe on its neck, injecting all that was left of the antidote. 

“Every time that I get the feeling. You give me something to believe in. Every time that I got you near me…” he listened to the words of Atomic Kitten coming out of her mouth, while he waited for the effects of the antidote to show up.

Were they fucking singing? Tim thought, incredulous. How on Earth did they not hear them fighting RIGHT. BEHIND. HER BACK?   

The man-bat’s body started quivering, and soon his bat claws were replaced with human fingers and, like a real sized doll, fell onto Tim’s body like jelly. Releasing his arm from its neck and bending sideways to let the man drop beside him, Tim finally could take a break. There on the ground, he pretended to not feel any pain, or any burn, and allowed himself a few moments of rest. But the sound of the steps wouldn’t let him.

Getting up on his knees, Tim took a moment to catch his breath before angrily staring at the person still unbothered walking away from him. 

You didn’t need much to get lost in the music, easily accomplishing it within a few seconds of any of your favorite songs. In those few seconds, everything around you seemed to disappear little by little, as you soon immersed yourself into a dream world, much like a music video, and all that was around you could not be listened to. But when an angry looking boy wearing a costume you’d easily recognize under a normal state of mind, jumps in front of you, it’s kind of hard to ignore.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me that you didn’t hear a single thing going on behind you!” he screamed at you, frustration apparent in each word. 

Startled, you could only reply with a scream, not recognizing Gotham's vigilante, and your favorite of all of them. You tried to run, but tripping on your own legs, you fell to the ground on your butt, loud music still blasting through your headphones but they now laid on your lap.

When he realized what he had done, he walked to you and extended his hand for you to grab, and with ease he lift you up from where you were. This time, while standing there in front of you, he was able to really see your face. Like, every single detail. You were stunning. So now, he felt the warmth climbing up his neck and cheeks out of the embarrassment of scaring you — and also from staring for too long. The adrenaline was still too high in his system at that point, forcing him to do things with thinking twice.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. With a shake of your head and the sight of your opened hands showing him no bruises, he sights in relief.

“I guess I’ll just have a really sore butt tomorrow.” you joke, whilst still telling the truth. Your butt was definitely going to hurt tomorrow. With your answer, you took a smile from the masked boy, the apples of his cheeks rising with the action, and the bruise on his right one becoming evident. “You’re hurt.” you point out, putting your finger on your own cheek for him to find the bruise on his, taking out of it a bit of blood.

“Man-bats. I can’t think of anything worse.” he replies with a grunt. You finally look around, to where he had come from earlier and where you assumed his battle had happened. There was a man passed out a couple meters from where you stood, and you could see others further back. Your stomach fell, sensing the disaster that could have happened to you if it wasn’t for Red Robin.

“Here!” you fished inside your bag for that first aid kid your friend always insisted you have with you, taking out of it, and expecting to be embarrassed as soon as you show it to him, a Robin edition band-aid, tainted in green, red and yellow, and with a large R drawn into it. You show it to him, waiting for him to put it on. However, he leans his face closer to you, telling you silently to put it yourself. Not knowing how to react, your hands start to shake and you can barely take off the plastic protecting the bandage. 

His cheek was warm, but wet at the touch. It must be sweat from all the fighting, you thought. Looking up, his hair was also all wet, small droplets falling down his sides. Placing the band-aid carefully, you find yourself awkwardly close to your favorite vigilante. His masked eye didn’t show you its real color, but never left your, making your cheeks grow as red as his. Unknowingly, your fingers lingered in his face for longer than needed, caressing the place where his wound was now hidden. Finally paying attention to your actions, you retract your hands to your sides.

Now, facing each other with a much more comfortable distance, you get to admire his face, even if partially hidden, and his pretty smile spread once more on his lips. The themed band-aid actually complemented well his outfit, and the funny way he stood there with his arms on his hips. Tim also analyzed everything about you, from your smile you didn’t allow out but decorated your face either way, the way you looked everywhere but him once your eyes met again, and the curious phone case you had in your hand. It was a Robin one.

“I’m sorry.” he finally apologizes, messing up the hair at the nape of his neck. You want to tell him not to worry, but he cuts you to say: “It’s just been pretty… Busy night.” 

“So I’ve heard.”

“And you still decided to walk alone through an empty park at… eight past midnight?” he questioned, but his tone was light, not judgemental, almost a joke. 

“It’s my only way home. I have to take it every day. With time you grow used to it.” you informed him with a laugh, 

“And you’re not afraid?” he asked you one more time. With your shrug, you tried to tell him you were okay with that, when in fact, deep down, you knew with everyday before the clock ticked for your shift to end, the anxiety and the fear consumed your body and only wore out when you got to your street and Mr. Johnson could be seen in your building’s front door. Noticing your expression of uncertainty, he read between your lines and understood you perfectly.

“I can walk you home.” he offered.

“I don’t want to cause you any trouble.” you shook your head. “Besides, I think Batman might need your help.”

And as if the world could sense his desire, Oracle’s voice sounded in his ear telling him Superman was strolling around and decided to give the city some help.

“It’s been taken care off.” he told you, and signaled you to show him the way.

Walking side by side, you didn’t say anything for a while, until he curiously asked you what it was you were listening to that stopped you from hearing the lousy men-bats and all that fight.

“It’s a random playlist I found on YouTube, but I fucking love it. I can’t stop listening to it for days.” 

“Can I hear it too?”

“I only have one headphone, but…” you took it from where you had placed it in your bag and put it around your neck. Taking your phone and opening it again on that same playlist, you set the volume to the highest. “We can listen to it like this?”

Throwing him an awkward smile, he leans in closer. Your shoulders are touching and you swear you can feel his breath on your neck.

“Are you an Atomic Kitten fan?”

“Not really, but I like expanding my horizons.”

“Then I think you’d really like Vicenzo. He owns a small store, where he sells old records. He recommends some of the best music, you should check it out.”

“You should take me there sometime.” you tell him. 

If only I could, he thinks, regretting ever coming to you as Robin, and not simply Tim.

“I’m kind of busy a lot.” he tries to explain, and you notice the mistake you’ve made.

“I-I know. That was stupid. I know you’re busy.” letting your hair hide your face from him, you want to bury yourself down in a hole and never come out. Only you to think Robin himself would want to take you out in his off duty hours.

“At what time do you leave work?” Tim asks.

“Around 11h30. Why?” you reply, confused.

“I’ll bring you a disk tomorrow.”

“What?”

“I’m walking you home again, if you don’t mind.” he asks, begging to say yes and letting him see you again.

“I’d love it.” you whisper.

The rest of the way, you two talked about your music taste, the concerts you attended. You asked him about his costume, was it really as tight as it looked? Nightwing’s looked like it could rip at any moment. His was actually fine, it dressed him well, you told him, getting red once more.

By the end of the walk, Tim didn’t want to leave when you told him you had reached your street.

“So, this is it for me.” you told him, as you arrived at a crosswalk. Just across the street from where you stood was a man apparently  guarding the door.

“Oh.” was all he managed to say. Looking down, he hadn’t paid attention to it, but your hands were awfully close, so he touched your finger with his, playing with them, and, eventually, lacing them together. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you.” you went to kiss him goodbye. Just a peck on his cheek, you had just met him. But just as you, he went for the cheek kiss as well, and so your lips met. You two pulled away, but the magnetic field that seemed to bring you together all night was too strong to resist, and he leaned down to you, holding your neck, and kissing you again.

His lips were wet, and his tongue graciously slid into your mouth, playing with yours. Your eyes were closed, and just like a song, he took you away from your reality, inserting you into your own, where only you two existed. 

Stepping away for breath, still with his hands on your neck, he says.

“See you at 11h.”

“How can I pay you for this? Not the kiss I mean.” you correct yourself. With a laugh he replies, already running off to wherever it is Batman may need him next.

“Bring me some coffee.”

[confused-wanderer]

I think we’re not fully utilising Dick’s potential for fuckery. This mean was raised in a circus. Surrounded by trapeze artists. And wild animals. What makes you think he has any regard for safety or self preservation?

So I like to think that sometimes, just sometimes there’s a switch that flips inside him and instead of being mature and practical about the system he lets his intrusive feral child win.

Two-face: Heads or tails little bird. Heads, I kill you. Tails, I surrender.

*flips coin*

Nightwing *throws his escrema stick and it hits the coin which lands in his palm*

Nightwing: Hey Harvey. If I flip it around in my hands I can change the outcome of this

Two-face: .. wait-

Nightwing *flipping his hand around with the coin inside* : Say why don’t we make it more interesting?

*takes out three more coins and puts them all in his palm before switching them around a bit*

Two-face: oh.. no..

*Red Hood and Red Robin watching in horror*

Red robin: .. should we.. should we stop him

Red hood *remembering when a villain knocked away Dick’s weapons and told him if he could draw blood without landing a hit on him he’d tell his army to stop and Dick didn’t wait a second before biting the fucker’s neck and taking a good chunk out of it*

Red hood: he’ll be fine.

[strange-birb]

Based on og bost by @thethirdtriplet

Order left to right pic 1 lolz

Damian, cass, dick, duke, Tim, Steph :)

[robinsleeping]

Jason Todd is simply “the mood”

[sweetlypunk]

Happy Birthday to the loml 🫶

first panel by @mumblesplash & Jason with pinched cheeks by @twalxx

[in-som-niyah]

oh nothing, just jason’s cute little eyebrow crease

[saylorsaysstop]

Quiet Acts of Love | Bat Boys

What are the quiet acts of love the Bat Boys live by when it comes to the love of their life?

↪ prompt list used

↪ Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! ⭐️

↪ My Masterlist

BRUCE WAYNE 🖤 | always giving the other the last bite of their food

You're not sure when it started happening. Whether it was the first date you eyed Bruce's plate with drool nearly seeping from the corners of your mouth or that night you stayed over and Alfred asked what your breakfast preferences were, you saw Bruce's delicious omelet. Either way, a fork was being ushered to your mouth with the last bite on the prongs.

The first time it happened though, you were confused. "What?"

Bruce smirked, holding the fork in front of your mouth. "You've been staring at my plate since you got yours. Go on, have the last bite."

A smile spread across your face and you parted your lips, Bruce gently putting the fork in your mouth. You savored the taste. After that night, Bruce made it a habit to always give you the last bite of his food whether it be breakfast, lunch, dinner, or dessert. He loved seeing your pretty eyes roll back with the flavor on your tongue.

And if it's dessert? Expect Bruce to not only give you the last bite but he's certainly going to rub his tongue against yours to taste it again.

DICK GRAYSON 💙 |  keeping a few of their favorite snacks in the house for when they visit. 

"I'm hungryyyy!" You groan, flopped upside down on Dick's couch. He smiled down at you and stroked his fingertips across your face before grabbing your hands and pulling you into a seated position.

"Go look through the cabinet. Bottom shelf on the left." He winks, helping you to your feet. He gives your ass a firm squeeze on the way to the kitchen, earning a laugh from you.

You make your way over to the cabinet, a little confused by his specificity on where to look. But when you pulled open the cabinet and came face-to-face with the spot he pointed out, a gasp flooded from your mouth.

"You bought my favorite snacks?!" You erupt, twisting to see Dick leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, a cocky little smirk on his face.

There was everything you wanted. Salty, sweet, sour. Whatever Dick saw you eating most of, your favorites were neatly stowed into their own little portion of the cabinet. "You. Are. Amazing!" You squeak, grabbing your snacks and racing back to the couch, but first stopping to give him a quick kiss on the mouth.

JASON TODD ❤️ | kisses. on. the. tip. of. the. nose. 

The fog poured from your mouth- that's how freezing it was in Gotham City. You sat on the rooftop with Jason, stargazing. You weren't sure why you agreed to do it in these temperatures, but alas, there you were.

Jason turned his head to the side and kissed the tip of your nose, earning the tips of your ears to grow hot. "W-what was that for?" You stammered.

Jason grinned in response and kissed the tip of your nose again. "You are so adorable- that's why." He did it again, and again, his warm lips a stark contrast to the bitter air of the night.

It started a new tradition. Jason always kissed the tip of your nose. It was his way of showing his affection for you. Loved watching you get all flustered when he'd kiss the very tip, your eyes crossing to see his lips in the center. He'd pull away and shoot you a devious wink before he'd part for the evening.

Tip of the nose kisses became mandatory. It was an argument settler too, the motion that told you that neither of you would go to bed angry. Because how can one go to bed angry with the most handsome man who kisses the love his life on the tip of their nose post-argument?

TIM DRAKE ☕️ |  "i brought you flowers." "for what?" "there has to be a reason?" 

"Hey, Tim's in the lobby." Your assistant said as she rapped her knuckles on your door. You raised an eyebrow and pushed away from your desk. You were due to meet Tim for lunch downtown but you weren't sure why he was at your work.

You sailed down the elevator to the first floor and upon the steel doors opening, your eyes widened at the sight of a very handsome Tim Drake, sporting a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. In his hands was a massive bouquet of flowers which had already been placed beautifully inside a vase.

"Tim!" You exclaimed. Heat rose to your cheeks as your co-workers all gathered around to see the very romantic gesture your boyfriend pulled off.

"I brought you flowers." Tim flashed you a boyish grin. You laughed, nodding.

"For what?"

Tim squinted his eyes and took a step forward, his hand dropping to your waist. "There has to be a reason?" He whispered in your ear before nipping you playfully on the cheek. "Wanted to surprise you, baby. You're mine and you deserve it." He shot you a wink as you took the flowers off his hands. After that, Tim spontaneously brought you flowers, all in the name of you being his.

[applejuicebegood]

Jason Showing his Love for You

Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Sharing. Sharing his jackets, his cologne, his food - he loves sharing the intimate material aspects of his life. You'll mention being thirsty whilst you guys are walking through the park and he's already uncapping his water bottle for you. You complain to him that your workplace doesn't have proper heating for the winter month and he's already packing one of his hoodies and some hand-warmers in your bag.

Big 'Act's of service' kinda guy. Adores making you dinner and memorising your favourite recipes (you have bought him this red apron from the local farmers market with a robin feather on the front pocket and he immediately asked you if he could have your ring size). Has a small box under the stove of both of your favourite meals written on small cue cards.

Carries your bags if you're out shopping or if he's walking you home from work.

If you're feeling tense or overly exhausted, he always offers a massage. He finds it that much more intimate and loving. To dip and press his fingers into the knots tightening your soft flesh and to hear your groan and sigh in relief, it's a reminder to him that his body doesn't always have to be used for violence and the installation of fear. It can be used as a source of comfort and release - as evident when you pull him down against your chest, after he's put away the lotion, to lay on top of you like a big weighted blanket.

He'll take pictures of flowers and sunsets over water and send them to you randomly throughout the week with the fallow up text being something like 'reminded me of you' 'it looked like your eye-colour'.

Besides that, his camera roll is mostly just you. Pictures of you asleep on his chest or in the middle of the biggest fit of laughter. He's got a few polaroids stashed in his wallet of you that he pulls out on week-long missions with his brothers. To remind himself that he's got something to get back to.

He'll always tie your shoes if the laces come undone or helps you stand up in heels. He's always worried about you if the two of you are at one of his Dad's galla's (for many reasons not included) and your in heels - because he knows how painful it can get. Once you guys get back to your house, he would sweep you into his arms after you've kicked off your heels just so you wouldn't have to stand and stumble for a second longer.

Helps take off your jewelry and makeup as you help him out of his suite.

Listens to your playlists and favourite albums so that you guys can sing along together during late night baking attempts.

You guys have a shared record collection that you started when for your anniversary you got him a record player. He likes to be supper corny some nights and dance with you as one of your favourite albums plays.

He'll be very casual about how extraordinary he treats you. He considers it expected instead of the exception. Because you were able to love him back to life, so why shouldn't you deserve only the best from him?

[froggyfics]

The Golden Child

Dick tries to be the golden child at the detriment of his own health. 

Thank you to the anon that requested this. I may or may not have cried at the end.

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: Dick Grayson x Tim Drake

Theme: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1,962

“Argh- aah- aah- argh!”

“Have medical supplies on standby! ETA 60 seconds!” Dick screams into his earpiece.

Tim shakes and shakes and shakes in the passenger seat. Tears leak from his eyes with no sign of stopping. His chest heaves up and down. He’s struggling to catch a full breath. 

“Tim, please,” Dick places one hand on Tim’s shoulder and other grips the steering wheel of the Batmobile. “Tim!”

“Please…stop. No more,” he moans.

“Tim! Snap out of it! Tim,” Dick begs. “Please, please come back to me.”

Dick sees the bay doors to the Batcave opening. He slams on the gas pedal even harder. Every second counts. 

“We’re almost there, Timmy. Stay with me now.”

The Batmobile zooms into the Batcave. Dicks smashes on the brake, and the vehicle jerks to a violent stop. 

This is the moment when Dick first feels it. A throbbing pain in his lower abdomen. 

No time to check it out, it’s probably just a scratch. 

Batman flings the passenger door open. He reaches in to drag Tim’s thrashing body out. There’s so much chaos. Tim’s still screaming. Batman barks orders at Alfred. Machines are beeping incessantly. 

Batman struggles to get Tim into the medical bay. Tim’s screams pierce the air and the bats in the cave respond with screams of their own. 

Dick attempts to run towards the medical bay to assist, but is momentarily stopped by the stiffness in his hip. He can only helplessly hobble towards the frenzied scene. Batman tries to place Tim in the gurney, but Tim is fighting back.

“What’s happening?! What are you doin’ to me?!” Tim continues to struggle with Batman. The fear toxin was coursing through his veins and wreaking havoc on his nervous system. The normally logical and practical Tim Drake was no match for the horror and intensity of Scarecrow’s fear toxin. Tim kicks and kicks, until he finally lands one into his mentor’s upper thigh.

“Oomph!” Batman grabs his thigh in response to the blooming pain. A big mistake. Tim takes advantage of Batman’s injured state and hops off the gurney. He lands on his feet before he feels hands clawing on his shoulders. He reels backwards and his upper body makes contact with the gurney again. Alfred desperately latches onto Tim’s shoulders, trying to get the young man back onto the gurney completely. 

Dick watches the scene unfold. If only he could get there faster. He could feel his heartbeat pulsing in his abdomen. 

Batman firmly grabs onto Tim’s ankles and drags them onto the gurney. Alfred strains to pull Tim to the top, so that his entire body finally occupies it. The two men quickly make do of the restraints and attach them to Tim’s limbs. 

“No! No! No! No! No! No! No! What’s happening?!” Tim screeches. His voice is higher than it’s ever been before, reaching a decibel that probably wasn’t humanly possible under normal circumstances.

After what feels like an eternity, Dick finally reaches the medical bay. He’s out of breath, gulping in air. Uh-oh, his lower body feels like it’s being poked by a million tiny needles. Dick shakily grabs onto a nearby machine. Batman looks over his shoulder and shouts, “Get the antidote! Now! Get 10 cc’s of diazepam, too!” 

Dick swallows and attempts to steady his posture. His vision has speckles of black. But he has his orders. He fumbles around to the freezer that stores the required medications. He grabs a needle and pokes the antidote’s vial, extracting the medication. He sets the needle on top of the fridge for just a moment. He attempts to grab another needle for the diazepam, but…but he misses? 

What? The stack of needles is right there. Just grab one.

His second attempt is pointless, too. He sees the needles. He knows he needs to grab one of them. But when he tries to bring his hand to the stack, his hand misses it entirely. 

“Nightwing! What are you doing back there? I need those needles now!” 

Dick takes in a deep breath. Tim needs him. Batman needs him. Poor Alfred needs him. Dick uses every ounce of energy in his body to focus on the stack of needles in front on him. He grunts as he lifts both hands up, and slams them down onto the needles. Dozens of them scatter onto the floor and outside of their container.

Whatever, it’s not like Batman can’t afford some more. 

Using both hands, Dick grabs one of the needles that managed to stay in its rightful container. He sticks it into the diazepam vial and draws out the required amount. His vision blurs for a few seconds. 

Get it together, Dick. 

He shakes his head and his vision fully returns. He grabs both needles and wobbles to Batman’s side. Batman snatches both needles from Dick and injects them into one of Tim’s popping veins. 

A few seconds pass before Tim’s breathing drastically slows. His eyes nearly pop out of his head and his tongue slightly hangs out from his mouth, but the EKG monitor that Alfred managed to attach to him shows that his heart rate is steadily returning to normal levels.

“The diazepam is working,” Batman begins. Tim is still jerking slightly and muttering to himself. “The antidote will take a few hours to work.” 

Just go to sleep. Dick can suddenly feel the lack of energy in himself. His head lolls to the side, but he continues fighting to stay upright. He can only wheeze, as Batman and Alfred continue fussing over Tim’s shell-shocked body. 

Five seconds. Just close your eyes for five seconds. Okay, he can do that. Dick closes his eyes and counts in his head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

His eyes snap open and his heart begins to race. 

Five more seconds, please. He closes his eyes again. One. Two. Three. His abdomen becomes unbearably hot. He loses count. One. Two. Four. Has it been more than five seconds? Dick hears the warbling voices of Batman and Alfred. One. Two. Three. His body shakes. Why is he shaking? His wound is searing now. 

“Dick!” 

Who’s calling his name? He can’t pinpoint the voice, but it sounds familiar.

“Dick!”

He feels hands grabbing at him. His eyes are still closed. One. Three. Is it time to open his eyes? No, not yet. It’s hasn’t been five seconds yet.

Dick feels like he’s falling in slow motion. His wound doesn’t even hurt anymore. He just feels tingles all throughout his lower body. 

“Ready the…” 

“…your eyes!”

“…losing blood…dammit Dick.”

Dick wants to chuckle. He knows that last disapproving voice belonged to Batman. What had he done wrong this time? He’ll have to find out once he wakes up.

Dick stands on the lawn, breathing in the fresh air. Even though Dick no longer lives at the manor, he still feels a sense of belonging on the sprawling estate. This is where he began his second chance at life after his parents were murdered. And it’s also where he nearly lost his life, just 48 hours prior.

He hears crunching grass behind him. Someone is approaching. Dick doesn’t mind. In fact, he’d love some company just about now. He’ll be out of commission for at least two weeks due to his stab wound. Two weeks to recover and relax and just live in the moment. Take time to rediscover who Dick Grayson was rather than living as Nightwing. Perhaps he could convince Alfred to set up a picnic around here. Ooh, Dick was craving Alfred’s famous homemade pecan-

“Hey.”

Dick’s thoughts are interrupted by Tim’s soft intrusion. Dick turns to look at his brother. His friend. His coworker. Tim’s arm is in a cast and his face has splotches of red and purple across it. 

Dick smiles genuinely. “Hey. How long will you be out of action?”

Tim sheepishly looks down. “Batman says at least two months. My arm was pretty badly broken.”

Dick can sense Tim’s disappointment. How could he not? Dick saw himself in the young man. He remembered his own strong drive to work and to never take breaks when he was younger. To live up to the glorious Batman who never seemed to take a day off. 

“It’ll fly by,” Dick replies. “I’m out for a while, too.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Hmm.”

The two stood facing one another in complete silence. Not an uncomfortable silence, but a necessary silence. Tim gathers the confidence to speak his mind and Dick gathers the confidence to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” Dick begins. “It should’ve been me. I should’ve protected you. I didn’t see him…Scarecrow, I mean.”

Tim shakes his head. “Please, don’t. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is Tim. It should always be me rather than you. I failed-,”

“Don’t,” Tim sharply exhales. “Don’t you dare say that you failed me.”

The pair fall into silence once more. Moments pass before Tim speaks up again.

“They told me what happened. You passed out. You were...bleeding out.”

Dick stood there, unable to reply. What could he say?

“You didn’t fail me when I got gassed with the fear toxin. It’s a risk I take every time I become Red Robin. I risk my body and my life. I know what I signed up for.” Tim takes a shaky breath in. “But, what I didn’t sign up for, was you dying on me. You didn’t fail me when I got gassed, but you damn near failed me when you almost died from blood loss.”

The whites of Tim’s eyes turn red as he struggles to hold his tears back. “You don’t know, do you?”

Dick’s not sure what Tim is getting at, but he feels like he’s a child again being scolded. He swallows before nervously replying, “What do you mean?”

Tim sniffles and looks his big brother directly in his eyes. “You don’t know how much you mean to us? What you mean tome?”

Dick’s heart drops to his tummy. His looks at Tim’s teary eyes and feels his own eyes moisten. 

“You don’t always have to be strong, Dick,” Tim whispers. He looks at his feet and kicks a nearby pebble away. “You don’t always have to put others first. Without you, we would all fall apart.”

“No,” Dick quivers his lip. “You are my first priority. Don’t worry about me. You and Jason and Damian, and Cassandra and-,”

Tim laughs dryly. “No, Dick, You are your own first priority. Because if you don’t take care of yourself, how can you come back to us?”

Now Dick is really speechless. Did he get just lectured? By his baby brother? Is this really Tim?

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life, Dick. I just can’t…I can’t lose you, too.”

Dick feels a throbbing pressure once again. Not in his abdomen, but right in his heart. Dick sniffles and holds his arms open, and Tim walks right into his embrace. It’s definitely awkward. Tim isn’t normally a hugger. But this is the moment that Dick has been waiting for, for what feels like an eternity. 

“I can’t believe my baby bro just lectured me. What has the world come to?” Dick murmurs.

Tim snorts and playfully shoves Dick away. “Yeah, sometimes you’re the one that needs a talking to. Just…please take better care of yourself.”

Dick nods. How can he argue with Tim? How can he deny his brother anything? Dick and Tim begin to walk side-by-side back to the manor. Dick slings an arm over Tim’s shoulder. “You don’t know how to hug. Good thing I’ll be around for a few weeks to teach you how.”

Tim groans and Dick’s laugh permeates the air. 

Yeah, a few weeks of rest will do them just fine. 

[battymommastuff]

The Greatest Show

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Part 1 Masterlist

(P/N): Performer Name

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

The rumbling from the red and white tent could be felt from outside. The cheers of the crowd as Haly's circus put on what they felt would be their best show yet. Everything from the elephants standing on their back legs to the clowns hitting each other with bowling pins. You were peeking from the little opening that led backstage. Many of your fellow performers were either stretching in preparation for their performance, or were relaxing after theirs. You were currently waiting alongside your two closest friends, John and Mary Grayson. The acrobatic duo who recently combined their act with yours. The stakes were higher, but it left the crowd in complete awe. You were one of the fire eaters. You were a younger member of the circus, but had quickly become a fan favorite. 

You were beautiful, and highly skilled at your art. Swallowing fire like water, and twirling torches around without burning you or anyone else. The skill you possessed was outstanding, and Haly never let you forget that. He took you in when you needed help the most, and he made you a star. You would forever be in debt to him. 

"Are you ready, (Y/N)?" Mary asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. You jumped then turned towards her. She and John had just finished their stretches and decided to check on you. From the moment you arrived, they took you under their wing. Teaching you the do's and don'ts of the circus as well as giving you a place to sleep so you didn't have to bunk with the others in their crowded space. Though you quickly earned a little tent of your own after your spike in popularity. 

"Yes, I'm alright..." You said, with a small smile, "But what about you? Should you be performing in your condition?" You asked while looking down at Mary's stomach. She was currently one month pregnant, and the entire circus doted over her. Everyone was so excited to have a new member of their family. Whoever this kid was going to be, you just knew you would love them unconditionally. Mary reassured you for the millionth time that she would be alright before she and John were ushered up a small ladder that led to the top of the tent. You, on the other hand, were standing by the curtain, waiting for Haly to announce you. 

"And now...our next performance needs no introduction...you know them...you love them! The Flying Graysons! Featuring our star Fire eater (P/N)!" 

As soon as you heard your name, you ran out. Instantly lighting your torch and twirling it around while taking a sip of alcohol. You spat the liquid at the flame causing it to poof into the air as soon as Mary did a flip in the air and caught John's arms. 

Nothing could ever satisfy that rush in your heart. The thrill of the crowd's reaction to your tricks. The high it gave you was better than any drug. Here you were, twirling two flaming torches in your hand as you watched above you. John and Mary Grayson were flying through the air. No one knew who to watch first. The couple who seemed to defy gravity, or the woman who could eat fire. Even with them in the air and you on the ground, everyone could see the chemistry you had. It's why your combined act never failed. With a big smile, you leaned back while lowering one of the torches towards your mouth. The crowd watched in awe as the fire went into your mouth. You popped your head back up with the extinguished torch in your hand. Tossing it to one of the helpers, you lifted your now free arm in the air while twirling the other torch in your hand. 

John, swooping down picked you up and you were now in the air. An act practiced hundred of times. His legs holding onto the trapeze as you both circled around the tent, the torch never falling from your hand. 

Your act was truly amazing, and it seemed to catch the eye of a certain crowd member. Bruce Wayne. Growing up, he loved to visit the circus with his parents. After their death, he avoided anything to do with it. Now he was back, but under different circumstances. For a while he'd been investigating the circus. He recently found old notes left by his father. The Court of Owls. A secret society of the Gotham elite. Their goal is to rid the city of crime, by any means. He wasn't surprised to know that his father had come in contact with them, but was surprised to see the theory that Haly's circus was a front. The members were training to be potential Talon members. The Court's lethal assassins. The circus always seemed to favor Gotham. Their stop here would last weeks while other stops would last days. Most of their members were young, and always seemed to vanish from the show after a while. He was here to find out the truth, and put a stop to it. At least he hoped he could. It was difficult to fight a conspiracy that his father barely had proof on. 

Despite his goal, he couldn't bring himself to move from his spot. You were gorgeous. He had a genuine smile on his face while watching your act. He's seen fire eaters before, but something about felt different. You didn't seem corrupt or up to no good. You looked as if you truly loved what you were doing. Maybe he could recruit you? Having inside knowledge would be beneficial. 

Your act went on, and you left the circle with loud cheers. Your heart was racing so fast, it felt like you were going to have a heart attack. John and Mary arrived shortly after with large smiles of their own, "You did amazing!" You squealed while hugging them both. You were new to the acrobatic world, but had the best teachers in the world. 

After the show ended and everyone turned in for the night, you were sitting outside of your tent. Your throat is slightly irritated from the alcohol, but nothing too bad. Luckily tomorrow was an off day for the circus. You could rest a little before practice. It was a peaceful night, and you were happy to relax in it. At least until a deep and intimidating voice nearly scared the skin off of you. 

"(Y/N) (L/N)? We need to talk."

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TAGLIST

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