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ecmlol · 2 years

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Clark adventures in Gotham Part 6

The night of the gala

Superman flew in to the batcave with butterflies in his stomach. He is greeted by Alfred who tells him master Bruce's is waiting for him in the bedroom. Superman pokes his head in to dicks room after knocking to say hi to him. Before heading to Bruce's room

Superman knocks

Come in bruce say

Hey wow you look.. hot. Superman say

Bruce is buttoning his white linen suit . The pants hugged every curve of his ass the shirt and jacket is less fits.

Thank you are you going to ogle me or are you going to get dressed . I'm fine with being fashionable later.

Superman speeds underdresses. And walks over in just a pair of black briefs . Bruce couldn't help but to take in all of that skin.

How fashionable late are we talking. Clark say as he finds his favorite spot to kiss on his neck and kiss it slowly.

If you keep that up they might just get a check in the mail from me. Bruce say as his hands move from Clark's waist to Clark ass.

Are you getting cold feet?

Me cold feet . It's just a party

Is it . You are going to be infront of your peers with your partner for the first time . Bruce says as he knead Clark's ass like dough.

Clark stops kissing Bruce and Bruce stops knead his ass.

Fine I'm a little freaked out.

Do you want me to fly solo ? Bruce says

Clark stares a bruce to see if he would find disappointment on his face.

You know what I've got this. We are stronger together than apart.

It's not that bad this one is pretty fun one to go to .there are normally a famous dj or 2 pretty good food strong drinks I have been told also.

I see you have your Bruce bottle already .Clark say

Looking at the "pregame bottle" on the nightstand.

I forgot who I was taking . Bruce say

What do you mean you forgot I am the only one you are seeing aren't I?

You are dating the real me I don't have time for anything extra in my life I barely have time for you kent.

Ok so your notorious for Bring your own boos to events what's special about it?

Is this my boyfriend asking or the reporter?

Boyfriend of course.

It's ginger ale I don't drink at function .

Are you kidding me ?

I use it to leave function early

Ah . I see so no leaving early then huh?

Well it's up to you what we do and do not do. Kent.

Humm let's play it by ear.

That is fine with me . Bruce gives Clark a quick kiss.

Go get dressed. Take your time by the way. We aren't in a rush

Bruce points to hanging zipper bag that's draped over the chair in the corner. Bruce settles in the chair and sips tea with a smirk on his face.

Clark smile and takes his time getting dressed. When ever clark bent down he would look back at him and smile bruce .

At the last button Bruce's claps

Best show ever. Thank you kent.

Have to shake my ass to pay for these cloths. This is too much bruce.

It's not too much kent . If I want to do something nice for my partner I should be able to but I will accept the show as a thank you I look forward to getting you out of them too .Bruce says as he walks over to Clark.

Well that will be the best part of my evening then. Clark say

Let's go dance the night away. Bruce say

Dance ? I have two left feet .

Come on kent then we will watch .

Alfred drove and dick came along because he wanted some fresh air.

So are you excited for your first gala dick ask

It's a little nerve racking

Are you kidding me you fuck up...

Language dick

Sorry you mess up bad guys all the time.

They pull up and there is a mob of camera and reporters waiting to mob Bruce and Clark . Bruce plasters on a fake smile and offers Clark his hand .

You see that dick that is scary Clark say

Dick shakes his head in agreement .

Straight to bed when you get home no arguing you have tests Tomorrow

Dick is about to argue and then Bruce shots him a look.

Yes sir

They say a quick good bye and Bruce steps out

Bruce

Bruce the reports yelled out

Bruce stops and gives them his most charming smile.

He gives them what they want. Then they start to ask him about Clark . Bruce turns to see him stand of to the side like he's a bodyguard dressed in white.

Mr. Kent is my date for this evening Yes we are dating. We been together for three amazing months . That is all thank you so much for the coverage of this special event . Excuse me

Clark look lost being on the other side of the ropes. He reaches for Bruce's hand as soon as he's close enough to take it.

You are doing great kent

When they step in to the actual event music is blaring the wait staff are dressed in speedos and bikinis .

See Clark it will be a great night

The dance floor it's full of the next generation of social lites famous actors and activists. As long as the money keeps flowing the music keeps going . For ever a thousand dollar that's worth 5 minutes of music . So far they have raised 30,000 Bruce walks over with his check and hands it over. The donation shot up to 130,000. He is thanked profusely. He smiles and walks over to Clark who has a a small plate of hummus and pita

This is really great hummus.

I'm glad your I enjoying yourself. Let me show you around . There is a silent auction over there a open bar there .Bruce says

A man walks over and he is devouring Bruce with his eyes.

Bruce so good to see you. He say

Clark gives him the one over .

Kent this is James DuPont he made all of this happen.

Wow great party

Thank you . When he see that Bruce's hand is on Clark hips he excuses himself.

What was that about

Me being young and dumb. Bruce says

You dated him?

More like hooked up in a closet with ppa few years back .

Oh wow it that kind of party?

It can be.Bruce says

They wonder around the auction and bid on a cruise for two ,sport tickets for dick and some art work for Clark's apartment and a spa pack for a couple . Clark is enjoying the food and even feeds bruce a Pesto chicken bite. Clark dranks and eat enough that he actually wanted to dance . Bruce encourage him to enjoy the music . So Clark joined the crowd dance floor without him . A much young red head man starts to talk and dance with him . Clark looks over the man's head and see Bruce's giving him the most batman look ever with one eyebrow arched and his arms crossed over his chest. Before Clark could say something bruce is walking through the crowd loosing his white tie up and unbuttoning the top 3 buttons. A lady gaga remix is playing . The other man drops it low and comes back up to bruce looming over him. Clark hears the other man heart starts to race . Clark steps aside and pull Bruce's attention to him by a hand on the back of the neck . Bruce looks up and Clark pulls him into a hard kiss . They completely tuned everything and everyone out for a solid 3 minutes . By the time they pull apart Bruce's shirt is untucked Clark's shirt is open and Bruce's hand is securely in Clark back pocket.

I thinks I'm really to go home Clark says

I have already informed alfred to pick us up.

How?

About a minute in to our kiss I pressed my watch button that alerts him of our requests for a early departure.

I love your tech.

Bruce just smirks

They make their through the silent auction and place their last bids and then make there way to the exit . Bruce keeps getting pulled to the side for business reason and friendly hellos. It took them 30 minutes to get to the exit where alfred was waiting for them.

Ok that was the most fun I have had publicly in a long time! Clark says with a huge smile on his face.

I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Are you hungry? I can have alfred stop

No no I'm good. Clark takes his shirt off to fan himself.

Aren't you hot? Clark ask

Yes but I'm all right . Bruce says with a smile.

Alfred is dick in bed for the evening?

Yes after some pleading master dick is showered and dressed for bed master bruce.

Thank you alfred

They arrive at home and alfred bids them a good evening.

They are standing at the base of the stairs

Where were we Clark says as he steps closer to bruce .

I think we were here . Bruce says as he closes the distance and wraps he's arm around clark neck to kiss him . One second later bruce feel weightless he opens one eye and seeing that they are flying up the stair toward the bedroom.

They land in his bedroom where Clark speeds underdress them both.

I'm starting to appreciate your flying skills.

Are you now ?

Clark pulls Bruce to him and backs up to the bed. Bruce pushed him back

Yes I am.

Bruce is about to grab Clark by the ankles when Clark's grabs him and rolls him on side back . Clark holds his wrist above his head . Bruce looks up at him and took the look on Clark's face as a challenge. He smirks back and broken loose of his grip and tried to flip them but Clark was too fast.

Checkmate Clark say

Clark leans down and kisses him and starts grinding against him.

If you want to play chess kent say so kent

Maybe later but now I think I want to do this . Clark say as he moves down his body. Bruce relax under the oral stimulation.

The next morning

Bruce wakes up to a empty bed .

He catch himself frowning. He look around and he actually feels sad that he left without saying goodbye. He turns and see a notes

Im making breakfast come down when your ready 💚

Bruces puts his robe and a pair of sleeper pants on and heads down stairs. He finds dick eating pancakes eggs and bacon. Clark is at the oven in his tank top and shorts

I hope you don't middle I told alfred he can chill out this morning.

Hey Bruce

Morning I don't mine . Bruce says

Have a seat I have breakfast for you in a second . Bruce kisses his cheeks and heads to his chair. Bruce looks over at the stove and then to a smiling Dick and think to himself I could get use to this!

#bruce wayne #dick grayson #clark kent #superbat #superman #batman #Alfred

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mochegato · 3 years

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Nannyette

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 – Lions and Robins and Ladybugs, Oh My

“The lions! This is where the lions are! I love the lions. I love their hair. It goes out everywhere. I wanna make my hair look like a lion.” Mar’i babbled loudly and happily as she pulled Marinette towards the lion exhibit. “Do you think we’ll see them? I hope we see them. They’re my favorite.”

“I thought the otters were your favorite?” Marinette commented with a smile. Almost every animal they’d seen had been Mar’i’s ‘favorite’ so far. They were enjoying a rare warm day and decided to celebrate by visiting the Gotham City Zoo before the next cold front blew through that night.

“I LOVE otters. They’re so cute and fluffy! But I love lions too. They’re my favorite favorite.” She rattled off, still pulling Marinette with her.

They had just made it to the Plexiglas enclosure for viewing the lions when they heard screaming. Marinette automatically picked up Mar’i and held her close. She turned toward the door and said loudly, “I wish someone would investigate and see what is going on for me,” hoping Tikki would pick up on the hint. She then turned back to Mar’i. “Let’s stay hidden in here until we figure out what is going on.”

They waited there for a few minutes observing people running scared and looking over their shoulders in both directions, almost like they were all running from something. Soon, Marinette saw Tikki flying back to her. She nodded subtly to Tikki and brushed Mar’i’s hair out of her face. “Hey, sweetie, do you see any lions or are they hiding too?” When Mar’i turned to the enclosure, Marinette leaned away, trying to put as much space as she could between Mar’i and Tikki, without letting go of Mar’i.

Tikki flew to Marinette’s ear and whispered quietly enough for Mar’i not to hear her. “It’s some guy wearing a black mask. He has a bunch of henchmen working their way through the zoo. They are working in teams to gather people. There are two teams headed this way from opposite sides.”

“Damn it,” Marinette mumbled under her breath. “Why does everyone try to kill us?” They were in the worst part of the zoo for this. They were in a section that had Plexiglas enclosures on either side of the walkways. There was no place to hide. No getting off the path to hide Mar’i. No sneaking into an enclosure to hide Mar’i. And with them approaching from both sides, there was no outrunning them. Marinette looked around her in a panic, frantically looking for anything she could use. She could turn into Ladybug but that was a last resort, a Mar’i-is-about-to-get-hurt-resort.

She glanced out of the observation room and stopped. The lemur observation room was directly across the walkway. The rooms were really tall, to ensure that the lemurs couldn’t jump over them. So tall, nobody could climb up there from the pathway. So tall, nobody could see the rooves from the pathway. “You have to fly.” She told Mar’i suddenly. “I need you to fly up on the lemur roof and lay on it. Stay on the roof and away from the edges. Do not move from the roof. Do not stand. Do not do anything but lay in the middle until you hear your Dad’s voice. Do you understand me? We’ll wait until nobody is looking. Now, if we could just get someone to mess with the cameras on this section….”

Mar’i nodded at her, a look of fear appearing in her eyes, missing the red blur that flew to the camera pointed to their area. “It will be okay, Mar’i. I promise you that, okay? You lay down on the roof and stay there until you hear your Dad’s… or Tim’s… or your grandfather’s? voice. Okay? I need you to do it now. Do not make any noise no matter what you hear unless it is your Dad’s or Tim’s voice okay?” Mar’i nodded again. “Okay. I love you, sweetie. You’re going to be okay, okay? I’m going to lead them away so they won’t look around here and your Daddy can come get you, okay? And your Dad will come for you in no time.” Marinette gave her a tight hug before holding her out. “Now go.”

Mar’i nodded and floated up to the roof. She backed away from the edge and laid down on the roof, curled in a ball, trying not to cry. As soon as she couldn’t see Mar’i and it looked like she was staying away from the edge, Marinette let out a breath and whispered “Good girl”. She paused to send Dick and Kori a text message letting them know what was going on and where she was having Mar’i hide, before she chose a pathway and started running.

She didn’t get very far before she came across the first set of henchmen. There were unconscious bodies strewn across the path behind them. So, they weren’t taking prisoners, they were just knocking people out… or killing them and robbing them, if the outturned pockets and open purses meant anything.

As soon as they saw her they started laughing. They didn’t expect her to continue running toward them. She motioned to kick their legs out from under the first one. When he bent down with a leer to grab her before she could reach him, Marinette jumped, delivering a flying kick that broke his jaw, knocking him over into the other henchman. She then turned back in the other direction. She needed to get the other set of henchmen away from Mar’i’s hiding spot.

She just got to the lion and lemur enclosures when she saw them. She stopped running and discretely checked to make sure Mar’i couldn’t be seen. She made sure they saw her before turning around and running back toward the henchmen she had just knocked down. As she had hoped the new henchmen started running after her too, away from Mar’i.

She slowed to a stop once she reached the original henchman. She lowered herself into a fighting position, trying to calculate if she could get past him and lead them even further away. There was a chance, slim, but she just needed a little bit of luck to pull it off. Luckily, she knew the embodiment of luck.

Marinette bounced from foot to foot like she was trying to come up with a plan, really she was analyzing the first henchman. When she was ready, she started running toward him. She motioned to sweep his feet again. As she expected, he braced himself for a high attack. Instead, she slid between his legs. As soon as she was on the other side of him, she started running again. She checked over her shoulder to make sure the three were following her. When they started lagging behind, she slowed down and pretended to consider her options, even though there were none. She didn’t want to risk them losing interest and turning back.

After a few seconds, she came to a fork in the path… and more henchmen. It was now five to one and that one hadn’t fought, beyond playful sparring matches with Adrien, in years. She looked around for a way to escape or get past the new henchmen. She could try the same maneuver again but… fuck it. It worked twice, third time’s the charm right? No, wait… that didn’t work in her favor in this instance. Three times lucky? That worked in her favor didn’t it? Sure, that’s what she was going with.

She ran full speed at the henchman on the left, motioning to kick his legs out from under him. He hunched down to block her way and Marinette jumped to go over him again. Unfortunately, the henchman on the right had his partner’s back and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. Marinette kicked the head of the left henchman since she was already in a position to, knocking him out. She used that leverage to add force to her throat punch to the right henchman.

He dropped her instantly, bringing his hands to his throat. She hit the ground in a crouch and pushed off to start running again but instead saw a blinding light followed immediately by the blurry ground rushing up toward her. She landed roughly on her hands and knees. She tried shaking her head to clear it, but that just made her head hurt more. She pushed back to kneeling as one of the henchmen walked in front of her. He swung a bat around saying something to her that she couldn’t quite make out.

Another henchman walked in front from the other side. He grinned maniacally at her and raised his foot to kick her in the face. Marinette didn’t register his foot approaching until it was a few centimeters from her face. She summoned the last of her strength to twist out of the way and kick up, meeting the most sensitive part she could reach with enough force that it was unlikely he would ever be able to have children. With that energy spent, she collapsed to the ground.

She tried to brace herself for the oncoming beating, but instead heard distant grunts and the distinct sound of punches landing. She wanted to open her eyes but her body was fighting her. When she finally felt someone’s hand meet her, it was gentle and urgent feeling. “Marinette! Marinette, are you okay? Marinette open your eyes! Please!” The voice sounded pleading and familiar.

She finally opened her eyes and saw white. She scrunched her face in confusion. She tried to refocus her eyes and took in the person’s unfamiliar full face. It was a mask she realized as she studied the face longer. It was Red Robin kneeling over her. She tried to look around for Nightwing. “Dick,” she gasped out. “Mar’i.”

“The girl you were babysitting? We know about her. My colleague is looking for her right now.” Red Robin assured her.

Marinette looked up at him, the world starting to settle a bit and make sense again, “Her dad?” she asked quietly. “I told her to only come out for her dad or you or Bruce.”

Red Robin gaped at her. “You…”

“Have a functioning brain cell?” She slurred slightly. “Yes, yes I do. It seems a little slow right now…” She tried to look around to see who was nearby to overhear them and relaxed slightly when she saw they were alone, police having already dragged the henchmen away. “Well maybe I don’t or I wouldn’t have outed myself as knowing just now. But, I normally have a functioning brain.”

“And a concussion.” Red Robin commented dryly.

“Ugh, I hate concussions. They last forever.” She clumsily tried to sit up and turn toward the direction Mar’i was hiding, squinting her eyes to see if she could see him yet.

Tim grabbed her to give her support, cradling her between his knees. “Easy, easy. Try moving slower,” He cautioned her. “I can hear him over the coms,” Red Robin told her quietly. “He has her and she’s safe.” Marinette let out a quiet sigh of relief. “A little scared but safe.”

“Thank God.” Marinette smiled closing her eyes and laying her head on his chest.

“Hey, no. None of that. You have to stay awake for me, okay?” Red Robin’s voice suddenly became strained. “We’re going to get you to a hospital and you can fall asleep there.”

“Liar,” she mumbled. “They won’t let me sleep either, not for a long time.”

Red Robin chuckled lightly. “You’re right. But humor me and talk to me. I like hearing your voice so it’s win/win for me.”

“I like your voice, you should talk to me and I can fall asleep to the sound. Win/win for me.” She retorted.

“Not if you fall into a coma. Come on, let me see your beautiful, blue eyes. I like looking into your eyes.” Red Robin gently begged her.

“You first,” she scoffed. She opened her eyes and shifted her eyes around them, remembering where they were. “Ignore that. Don’t show me right now.”

“Later, I promise.” He assured her, hugging her closer to his chest. He gently brushed her hair out of her face.

She smiled sleepily, still struggling to keep her eyes open. Her eyes popped open wide a few seconds later when she heard Mar’i scream her name. Marinette blinked a few times and turned her head in her direction. “Marinette! No, you got hurt! Marinette! Is this because of me?”

“No! I’m okay, sweetie.” She tried to smile reassuringly. “I just… fell for Red Robin’s good looks again.” Mar’i giggled in her father’s arms.

“Hey, why are you giggling at that?” Red Robin pretended to be upset. “That was a serious comment.” Mar’i giggled even harder. “That’s it, you’re grounded young lady. Go home right now.” Mar’i only laughed harder at that, nearly falling out of her father’s arms.

“You heard him, it’s home for you. Or maybe we can take you to your Grandpa Alfred, huh? Let’s go.” Nightwing said turning her away from Marinette.

“She does that a lot,” Mar’i giggled.

“Does she now?” Dick asked with an amused tone, but his eyes stayed sharp. He gave Red Robin a concerned, questioning look, darting his eyes to Marinette. He only continued walking away with Mar’i after Red Robin nodded to let him know he could handle talking care of Marinette by himself.

“And let’s get you to the ambulance, huh?” Tim gave her a gentle smile as he carefully picked her up to carry her to the ambulance.

He gripped her tighter into his chest when she laid her head on his shoulder and let out a relieved sigh. “She’s safe.” She slurred sleepily. “She’ll be okay.”

“You both will be.” Tim assured her, kissing the top of her head. “As long as you stay awake. Maybe while you are awake you can tell me why you decided to come here without me? I like animals, too.” He pretended to pout. “Enjoyable things to see, delicious food, did I mention the fries here are amazing? Spectacular company... Sounds like a perfect day.”

Marinette giggled into his shoulder then groaned at the pain the vibrations caused in her head. “I’ll make sure to invite you next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he whispered as he handed her off to the EMTs. His fingers itched to keep holding her hand, but it would be dangerous for Red Robin to take too strong of an interest in one particular victim. He had to settle for watching them take care of her in his peripheral vision and praying everything would be okay. He knew, logically, that she would be, but that didn’t stop him from worrying until he could see her brilliant, radiant smile again.

Chapter 4

Tags:

@timari-month-event, @ichigorose @stainedglassm

#Timari January #timari #timinette #maribat #Nannyette #prompt -#Why does everyone try to kill us

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ectonurites · 3 years

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My least favorite type of fic!Tim is when he’s portrayed as depressed/very mentally and emotionally unstable, but also at the same time as someone who is like lauded as being super dangerous/the most skilled or something like that?? Those fics where Tim is chugging caffeine and barely sleeping, but characters are still like “oh I wouldn’t wanna piss off Tim he is Dangerous” and that’s annoying enough but then there are fics that at the same time as that portray him as like on the edge of a breakdown. It’s very irritating even if I’m not sure I can articulate exactly why, it just really rubs me the wrong way. Like, I definitely do think Tim has some issues with depression and stuff, but in fics like those it’s treated more like a quirk sort of instead of a serious issue

LMAOO I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT i’m not a fan of that either. I’m apologizing in advance if I sound mean in any of this critique i’m about to give of that fanon version of him. I want to preface this by saying that people can write whatever the hell they want, like, they’re allowed to! And I’m not referencing/calling out any specific works here. Just trends. But I’m gonna bitch about some things I’ve noticed that annoy me, personally. (so again, not saying other people can’t enjoy this stuff! just. not for me)

so like sorry if im mean but this is just me ranting and also this is my blog anyways so:

(nobody take this as an attack on them please because it’s really not)

The problem is a lot of those fics seem to interpret Tim’s behavior in Red Robin (& especially like that last whole arc of his Robin run also by FabNic) as if that’s his normal, rather than the result of a few years of CONSTANT traumatic incidents pushing him to a breaking point (because while all the shit he went through with his Dad, Steph, Kon, Bart, and then Bruce dying was spread out over several years for us as readers, it’s regarded as like within two years in canon! It all happens when he’s 16 and 17. According to the Batman comic right after War Games, Jack was murdered only days after Steph died.

(Batman #634)

That’s a LOT to process for one kid jesus christ)

I love Red Robin honestly, I do, but it is about Tim at the lowest points in his life. It’s the grand finale of Tim’s story, and everything crumbles, that’s kinda the point! The end leaves him in a position to either rebuild himself or fall apart. It’s all about how he chooses to continue after this point!

(Red Robin #26)

The way he acts and the things he does in that comic should be regarded as such. He can’t live the way he does in Red Robin forever or he will literally burn himself out/become something unrecognizable, like, jesus it’s kinda even acknowledged in the comic when he thinks about what his potential futures would be if he keeps it up like he’s doing:

(Red Robin #25)

He sees himself as dead, as Batman (which he has countless times said he doesn’t want to be and at this point in his history almost every time he’s seen a future he became Batman in he had become a killer), or needing to retire and taking over an Oracle-esque role, likely because he exerted himself too much to continue.

When you look at him around this same timeframe when he’s not isolating himself/too deep into the mission and is instead working with his friends back on the Titans, you can see that he is starting to heal and work in a more positive direction. He’s choosing to work on coming out of this rough period by being together with his friends who he loves.

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

Not to say that you can’t write about situations in which he doesn’t start to come out of it, but if you are doing so it’s something you should be taking seriously because that’s the idea you want to explore, not just acting like it’s perfectly okay or normal? (And again, there are a lot of works that do explore it in good ways, there’s just also a LOT that don’t)

Like, so much content I see just make any sadness and depression and tendency to over-work himself that’s rooted in his traumas (which! those do have a basis in canon!) into a quirky personality trait rather than a response to trauma. Acting as if he’s always been this way and it’s normal for him. That’s what bothers me. If people want to seriously explore the effects of all these incidents and how that plays into his ability to do his job as a hero, then hell yes do it! But when it all gets brushed off as ‘oh thats just tim, he just doesnt eat or sleep or feel any happiness but like its fine he’s just always been like that’ I feel my blood boil.

This also often strikes me as related/tied to fanon’s seemingly never-ending quest to make Tim into this victim of so many things he really wasn’t. They make his childhood 10x worse than it actually was (yes he was lonely because he was sent to boarding schools rather than having his parents around, but he was NOT just left home alone all the time as a child.

(Batman #441)

He snuck away during a school vacation week to follow Bruce one (1) time and to then track down Dick. This is established in his introduction story! PLEASE read Lonely Place of Dying!) and it just... going with those fanon assumptions as being true changes so much of how people characterize him!

Some people will also (not to call out tim/kon shippers especially because I literally am also one but) vilify the shit out of Steph and make their relationship out to be some abusive thing rather than just... a messy teen relationship between vigilantes because they had really complicated lives and baggage with one another? Which they both acknowledge they made mistakes in!

(Red Robin #10)

Or people will vilify the shit out of Dick in regards to the situation at the start of Red Robin, or literally just make anyone who Tim ever had a disagreement with out to be the bad guy despite the actual situations always being way more complex and multi-faceted than that.

And then on top of all that, aside from making him into this ‘im broken 24/7 and not doing anything to fix it also everyone around me is terrible to me’ type of character, because he’s a lot of people’s favorite, they also want him to be as cool and strong as he is at his high points. So they’re projecting all this stuff onto him that makes him what should be a barely functioning person but then also act like that’s fine and he’s able to be a dangerous badass on top of it.

Like I’m sorry but someone who is going out and actively acting as a vigilante like that which is incredibly physically taxing is NOT surviving on coffee alone and no sleep. That’s literally not possible, he’d fucking collapse. (And like, again, if you want to explore him pushing himself to that point, that’s one thing! but acting like he can manage all of that for more than a few days at a time/maybe while working on one really tough case is nuts!) and like, even canon can be a little guilty of this type of thing particularly since the New 52 (Detective Comics 2016 had more than a few references to him barely sleeping, but at least they also made references to him eating normally/healthily and he wasn’t completely self isolating or anything) (and also that comic had him be so self sacrificial he was ready to die to save everyone and only didn’t die because of Mr.Oz’s interference, he’s definitely not in his best place there) but usually it’s still within some realm of possibility.

Also like. The fanon ‘chugging coffee to survive thing’ just annoys the shit out of me because, like, yes there’s a few moments in canon where he’s under a lot of pressure and pushing himself further than he normally would and had some coffee (one of the only times I can even remember him having it on panel is... oh... during that last Robin arc I just mentioned a little while ago shouldn’t be where you source your normal characterization of him because it’s a very difficult situation that pushes him further than he normally would go! huh!) But the thing is like, people play it off for laughs, or like it’s a normal thing he would do at any time in his life! If you want to explore him pushing himself and using coffee as a crutch, like, there’s ways you can write it that takes it seriously, but almost every time I see it come up in fics it is like a core part of his personality and just ‘oh haha silly tim always with his entire pot of coffee he must chug every morning or he’ll die :^)’ And that bothers the hell out of me.

In general it’s just... people treat Tim so weird. They want him to be so many different things that he’s shown himself to be at different times for very specific reasons, except they want him to do all of it at the same time which just doesn’t work. A person can’t function like that, and it’s not even close to who he is in canon.

Again, people can do what they want, and this is just my opinion obviously, but yeah. My two cents on the matter. Read Lonely Place of Dying, read Young Justice, read his Robin run. Read his comics and get a feel for who he was before all the rest of his trauma, and see how he canonically reacts to it along the way. I know reading comics can be tough for some people but so much stuff just echo chambers and becomes barely recognizable in this fandom and it’s just... a shame when it happens with a character ya love.

#Anonymous

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sleptwithinthesun · 2 years

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🤒👃🤝❤️ whoever you most feel like talking about!!

YES OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH

i'm doing everything for t/im d/rake from d/c c/omics holy heck :D

(questions from the snez/illness/allergies/etc. meme!)

🤒: How often do they get sick? What kinds of illnesses do they tend to get most often? Colds, flu, sinus infections, stomach viruses?

Tim probably gets sick five to six times a year, or gets sick once or twice for a longer period of time (usually a month). Since he doesn't have a spleen, he has to be really careful when he knows other people are sick and during cold/flu season so that he doesn't catch anything, and if he does, his symptoms are much more exaggerated than they'd be on any of his siblings. He gets infections every so often, but he does his best to take his antibiotics to minimize the fallout from his vigiliantism. He gets colds most often; his immune system already wasn't functioning at its best because he's constantly stressed and forgets to eat a lot, so losing his spleen was kind of like the final nail in the coffin.

👃: In general, how sensitive is their nose? Can something like a certain flower or smell make them sneeze even if they’re not allergic to it? Do they sneeze a lot on average, or not very much? Does their nose twitch a lot, or barely ever at all?

Tim's nose generally isn't overly sensitive unless he's exposed to one of his allergens, in which case pretty much anything provocative, like perfume or cologne, can set him off. (Jason thinks it's hilarious, and often goes out of his way to make Tim sneeze if he can.) He still sneezes a fair amount throughout the day, and almost always in fits of three to four that get people who don't know him concerned, since they come out pretty fast. He's not twitchy; because of the way he grew up, he's used to trying to hide that kind of thing, but he does rub at his nose when it's itchy.

🤝: Do they like to be taken care of when they’re not feeling well? Or do they hate it when people fuss over them? If they do, what’s their favorite thing about being taken care of? If not, why don’t they like being taken care of? How bad would they have to be before they’d let anyone take care of them in any capacity?

Tim is wary of being taken care of, but doesn't mind it if it's from a place of genuine concern and he isn't being stifled by it (once he accepts it, of course). Growing up the way he did, he prefers to handle everything by himself, because it's what he knows how to do, and when he's sick, he tries to go back to that behavior because it's familiar to him. Being taken care of and having someone pay attention to him when he wasn't feeling well isn't something he experienced in his childhood, so when his brothers (mostly Dick) try to take care of him and tell him they don't mind being around him when he's sick, he has a hard time believing them. Tim does tend to hide when he's sick even though he knows he shouldn't, and his illnesses usually reach the point of a high fever (102+) before he lets anyone know that something's wrong. Bruce and his siblings usually have to lure him in with a movie night to check on him if they're worried that he's sick.

❤️: What’s your absolute favorite scenario for them? It can be anything, sickness, allergies, or something else entirely!

I have two, actually. The first is one that I've seen a lot of people write, in which the Batfamily find out that Tim's missing his spleen because he gets sick or gets an infection, especially if said infection is from something he shouldn't have gotten one from. The second is pretty much anything with allergies; I'm one of those people who prefer allergies over colds and tend to write that more, if I can. I'm actually writing both scenarios right now, albeit with some changes, but those fics should be posted soon.

#askbox #meme #snz headcanons #snzcanons #t/im d/rake #anon you're my current favorite person i need you to know that #swts hcs

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itsmeevie01 · 4 years

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Bio!Dad Bruce Day 11-The (Vigilante) Talk

Over Thanksgiving, Marinette has happily settling into her room at Wayne Manor. Alfred had welcomed her with a smile and Tim had wrapped her into a hug. Dick had talked excitably at her and Bruce had called a welcome as he made his way in form work. The family didn’t realize how much noise they were making until a small boy stormed down the stairs. His face was pulled into a scowl and he had a katana gripped tightly in his hand. When he came face to face with Marinette, the little boy snarled. She looked at the 10-year-old and smiled at him. “hi! You must be Damian! It’s nice to finally met you, brother.” The boy looked her over and turned away.

“tt” Although it wasn’t the overjoyed welcome that she hadn’t gotten from the others, the Parisian still felt like the greeting from the child was a complement.

“No. No way. The kid hates everyone! How did you get him to like you?” the shock in Tim’s voice made Marinette giggle.

“You know Tim, there is such a thing as kindness, you should try it sometime.”

“Little Bit!”

“Nettttttttttt you’re going to make Tim cry!”

“good, he deserves it! That little boy didn’t come here for you to go after him!”

“um…are we forgetting that the demon Brat tried to kill me? “Marinette smirked at Tim’s offense.

“nope!”

When the others had disappeared (gone on patrol) for the night, Bruce pulled his youngest daughter into one of the smaller sitting rooms. “Marinette, we need to talk.” The girl tensed before sighing.

“is…is this about the…altercation this spring?” Bruce nodded solemnly. He could see his daughter bracing herself. “are you mad?” the quiet question made him choke.

“Mad? Why would I be mad? Marinette, you handled everything so. Well. I just wanted to go over something that come into play with that…pastime.” His daughter furrowed her brow in confusion. “you and I are not the only vigilantes in the family. The others just haven’t told you yet.” Her face lit up in excitement.

“you mean…you mean my brother? And Cass? And Steph?” Bruce nodded at her questions.

“yes. The entire family. Here, in Gotham, we all abide by a code.” Understanding flooded her face.

“what is the code?” there were nerves in Marinette’s voice, but the way she took the information he was throwing at her made him proud. Taking a deep breath, Bruce broke down what he made all the rules he had his children abide by when in the field. Partway through, Tikki settled on Marinette’s shoulder to be a part of the conversation. When Bruce was done, he looked at the two, waiting for questions. The Kawmii hovered to be eye level with the teen and the duo started to talk back and forth in rapid fire. The language they were using was not one that he was familiar with, however.

Marinette glared at her Kawmii where she sat on her nose. “no.” the goddess of luck sighed but followed her chosen’s lead in switching out of the guardian language and back to English.

“Marinette. You don’t have to live by the archaic rules that Master Fu enforced. You saw what happened to him! I don’t want you to alone too!”

“Tikki, as much as I love you, and I love that you care, I am not alone. I have my dad; I have my parents in Paris. I have my brothers, my sisters, and my friends. Hell, even my partner has been fantastic! This needs to stay as. It. Is.” Bruce cleared his throat, cautious. He had seen what Marinette was capable of doing when she was truly angry, he didn’t need that rage leveled at him.

“Marinette is there more going on?” the little goddess of luck took advantage of his attention.

“Yes! Marinette is the Guardian now! She won’t tell Chat and she’s trying to do the work of an entire order by herself!” his daughter froze. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Sure, Marinette had looked more tired, and yes, the girl had seemed more on edge. In his defense, Bruce mainly dealt with heroes and villain s outside of the office. The signs she had been showing were normal for that of a leader of a hero team when life went to the dogs. As he looked closer, Bruce noticed smaller signs that normally would go unnoticed. Tenser shoulders, paler skin. In fact, …

“Marinette…” Bruce paused. If he was right, then he knew how to help a little bit. If he was wrong, ALL of his daughters were going to eviscerate him. “Net, have you been eating? I know that when I start to get wrapped up in a case, I forget about basic needs. Sometimes I can loose entire weeks in the cave, subsisting on what Alfred brings me.” The 14-year-old had tensed, looking ready to defend herself or run if she had to. When Bruce mentioned his own habit, the teen had relaxed.

“I- yes. I do that too. Sometimes, Tikki isn’t enough to break me out of my thoughts. If there isn’t an emergency…” Bruce nodded in understanding.

“what does your partner do, when that happens?”

“wellllll”

“Marinette. For the love of all that is holy, please tell me that you know who each other are.” She flinched slightly at the change in his voice, before she fervently shook her head.

“the last guardian…he didn’t want us to know about each other. He didn’t want us to know more than strictly necessary, actually.” In that moment, Bruce saw red. Not only had this man thrown two teens into the fire and walked off, he had taken any form of support with him.

“Net, do you trust Chat Noir?” the noirette nodded.

“would you please take some advice?” she studied him before nodding hesitantly.

“when you two have the time, meet out of the suit. Know who each other are, and what each other’s downfalls are. Know how to help each other and how to keep the other in a space that is safe. It is so, so important to have someone to lean on. I have not only your siblings, but Alfred and the Justice League. I promise that if you need help, ever, I will do all I can to help. But you need someone on site. You need someone who understands nearby.”

“Is…is that why you have partners? So that if needed, you can step back?” the timidity in Marinette’s voice mad Bruce pause.

“Marinette are you present at every Alums attack? Even when your out of town?”

“I have to be. I…Ladybug is the only one who can fix everything afterwards. If I’m not there, people stay dead and business shut down and hospitals stay damaged and overflowing. If I’m not there, we don’t have any of our landmarks, any of the things that make Paris the city it is.”

“how are you getting back and forth? It takes too long to fly, right?” the younger vigilante hesitated and glanced at Tikki before pulling out a small jewelry box.

“I keep Kaalki's glasses with me. If there is an emergency, I teleport in, handle everything, and teleport out. I’ve been lucky so far, because no one has noticed.” There was a sound, as Bruce went to respond. When they turned, the two found Dick making his way into the kitchen, wearing a pair of joggers with his hair still wet. Marinette paused and put two and two together as she realized that her siblings must be getting back for the night.

When Dick stumbled into the kitchen at 3 am, he wasn’t expecting his little sister to still be up. Because of that, he had not fully changed back into his regular clothing. He had showered, of course. After flying over the city for hours though, the young adult was ready to go to bed. As he reached for a box of cereal and a bowl, he vaguely registered Bruce sitting at the counter. When Dick turned to see who was sitting besides his father figure, he froze. Sitting there looking completely unsurprised was- “Marinette.” He froze, he processed who was sitting at the counter, and exactly what time of night it was. “I. Um. Well…hi?” the sheepishness in his voice was clear. The younger noirette simply shook her head.

“early morning snack? I hadn’t realized how late dad and I had stayed up talking. I should probably head to bed so I can function in a few hours.” As the girl hopped up, Dick realized that Bruce looked…upset. Was…was Marinette using his interruption to get out of whatever conversation they had been having? If the girl’s blinding smile and small wave was anything to go by, the answer was most likely yes.

When Marinette joined the family the next morning at breakfast, her father raised an eyebrow at her from farther down the table. “did you sleep well after our unfinished conversation last night, Marinette?” Dick swung his gaze to look at her.

“so, I did interrupt something last night!” the guilty look Marinette flashed in his direction made him scoff. “sneak.”

“but I’m still your favorite, right?” he paused, considering her statement.

“you, missy, are on probation.” They laughed, before Bruce cleared his throat.

“After breakfast, you are coming to the office with me. We can talk on the way there. There is more to go over from last night.” The teen huffed and slumped into her chair but nodded all the same.

When the two were in the car, Marinette stared out the window. “what else is there to go over, dad?” the dejectedness in her tone made Bruce sigh.

“Marinette, hey,” he nudged her to get the girl to look over at him. “you aren’t in trouble. I just want to make sure that you are safe. I know exactly how hard this life is and I know how dangerous it is. I want to make sure that you are taken care of if anything happens.”

“I…I don’t know how to approach the idea of knowing who may partner is. We’ve lived in secret for so long, it’s hard to imagine a place where I can go to him outside of the suit. Or! What if he doesn’t like me without a mask on? I don’t want to hate him or have trouble working with him if I know him in real life and we don’t get along.” Bruce stayed silent, letting his daughter let her fears show through. Sometimes he forgot that the girl was nervous. She was always so confidant around him, that he forgot that she had a tendency to overthink.

“start slow. Explain to him that you met an older vigilante over some travels, and that you talked through some of your fears with them. Suggest meeting somewhere outside of the city to talk, and work form there. Find a place, together, where you can go and work on tracking down Hawkmoth. A base of sorts. Once you have the base work between yourself and your partner, ill send one of your brothers. I’ll send them under the guise of forming bonds with Ladybug and Chat Noir. With a man on the ground, I can help you in anyway you need. And,” here, Bruce shot her a small smile. “this way I wont be taking over. The Justice League isn’t taking over either.” Marinette hesitated, before nodding.

“I…I like that”

since i am a compleate chaotic mess, i decided to twist this topic a lil. that’ll probably happen tomorrow, too. that is, unless i decide to just use an alternate one. idk man, i have no plans at this point. everyhting is up to date on my AO3 account, wiht is under the same username, if you want to manuver over there, lol. ill add a link in the masterlist soon!

#b!dbwm2020 #b!dbwm #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio!dad bruce wayne #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupen chang #maribat #ml x dc #oops #this went off the rails #My writing

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psychovigilantewrites · 4 years

Text

Baby Bird- Rewrite

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: SMUT

Word count: 5296

Summary: This is a rewrite of my first ever fic! I didn’t really incorporate the whole Baby Bird thing in this one, and i did change a lot of it, though the story is still very similar to each other. I’m pretty proud of it! Let me know what you guys think!

You can find the original on my Masterlist

Read it on Ao3

Kofi

You had a relatively good relationship with most of your brothers.

You loved watching rom-coms with Dick when you both got the time, and he was always there to lend you an ear. He was the first person whom you truly loved unconditionally, as he brought you out of your shell when Bruce first found you and took you in.

Tim was a bit harder, but mostly because he was shy. You didn’t really have many things in common with Tim except that the both of you were more business savvy than the rest. The two of you were the main attractions during Wayne Enterprises’ functions, and you would even share projects together.

Damian was a tough nut to crack, but after he came in, it only took you a couple months before he started showing you that he didn’t mind you. Scratch that- you were pretty sure that you were his favorite. Everyone else treated him like he wanted to be treated, an adult. But you maintained a perfect balance of shaking his hand business-like when you meet him, and spoiling him with hugs and kisses he pretends to hate.

You never had brothers before, but you were sure that the ones you had now were as perfect as brothers could ever be.

But then there was Jason.

You didn’t see him as someone you loved brotherly, someone you relied on, or someone you shared hugs and kisses with. That’s because for some reason, he hated you.

Well, hate was a strong word. Maybe he just really disliked you.

In fact- he disliked you so much that he would try to avoid you as much as possible. You tried so hard to get on his good side. Read the same books he did just so you could have something to talk about, even took his side whenever he argued with the boys or Bruce.

In which he would respond with a gruff “I don’t need your help.”

You were at a loss. All you wanted was to be close to him. Maybe cuddle up with him on the sofa, leaning against his hard body. Maybe feel his large, thick, magnificent hands resting on your thigh whenever he sat next to you during dinners. Maybe brush your lips against his chapped, pink-

Whatever his problem was, it made you frustrated.

***

“Where are you going?” Jason glared at you from the living room. He was lying down on the sofa with his feet up, peeking at you from behind his book.

You blinked your eyes in surprise. He hardly ever initiated conversation with you. Perhaps he was finally warming up to you? You tried to hide your smile as you walked closer to him from the staircase.

“I’m going to see someone,” you answered and smiled sweetly at him, trying your best not to agitate him in any way.

“Who?” he frowned, sitting upright.

You tried to hide your surprise again. Two questions in a row? He must be in a good mood.

“Uhm, Ray,” you replied, “We take the same class in college.”

“Why are you wearing that?” he shot a dirty look.

This time, you frowned and looked down at yourself. You were only wearing a tight baby doll t-shirt with a skater skirt that went up to your mid-thigh.

“Uh, I always wear stuff like this,” you told him.

“No, you don’t,” he narrowed his eyes at you, judging you from top to bottom.

You felt a bit offended. Was he really questioning your sense in fashion?

You wanted to bite back, but refrained from doing so. You really didn’t want to get even further on his bad side.

“You’re right,” you forced a grin, “Maybe my choice in fashion tonight is a bit odd. I think I’ll change my sneakers to flats. What do you think?”

“It’s not the shoes,” he rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Do what you want.”

And he went back to his book.

You stood there in silence, mouth slightly ajar, confused as to what happened. Before you could gather your thoughts and say something, your phone rang.

“That’s me,” you announced, “I’m going now.”

Jason didn’t answer.

***

The date went well. Ray was a cute guy. His olive eyes complimented his tanned skin, his chestnut hair falling in soft locks around his sharp, angular face. He was polite as well, even walking you up to the door from his car.

“I had a good time, Ray, thank you,” you giggled, slightly buzzed from the cocktails he bought you.

“Me too,” he smiled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. “You look so pretty tonight, did I mention that?”

“Yes, like five times,” you laughed, slapping his chest. “I’m glad you think so. My brother basically snorted at my fashion choice.”

“What, this skirt?” he widened his eyes, pulling you closer by the waist. “This skirt drove me crazy all night.”

“Your damn flirting drove me crazy all night,” you purred, snaking your arms behind his neck.

“I’ve been thinking of kissing you,” he admitted, his voice turning low. “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you tiptoed and crashed your lips against his, eliciting a deep and guttural moan from him. His hands slid from your waist down to your ass, bunching up your skirt with every squeeze.

Suddenly, he was gone.

You blinked a couple of times before realising what had happened.

“Get the fuck off her,” you heard a familiar snarl.

Jason had ripped Ray off from you, causing him to stumble backwards. You were speechless, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“Jason!” you hissed, “Ray, I’m so sorry. This is my brother, Jason.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he chuckled nervously.

“Adoptive brother,” he corrected you.

That made your chest tighten.

“Ray is my date tonight,” you told Jason, ignoring his previous statement, “He was just saying goodbye.”

“Well?” Jason crossed his arms, “Say goodbye, then.”

“Uh, it’d be nice if we had some privacy,” you tried to tell him.

“No,” he simply stated, looking straight at Ray as if sizing him up, daring him to do something.

“Jason-”

“Get scarce, or I’ll break your jaw,” he growled.

“O-okay,” Ray surrendered, “Going now. Bye, I guess.”

And he half walked half ran to his car without waiting for your answer.

You just watched him silence as he drove off, and then turned to Jason angrily.

“What the hell was that?” you barked, shoving him aside to enter the manor.

“He had his hands all over you,” he replied coldly.

“So?” you argued, “I’m an adult, Jason. I can sleep around with guys if I want to.”

You thought you saw his jaw clench.

“You can’t,” he grit.

“Excuse me?”

“You. Can’t,” he repeated.

Now, you know Jason had some anger problems, what with the Pit and daddy issues and all that. And you have seen him throw his tantrums. Whether it was breaking chairs, or beating people up. If you lived with Jason Peter Todd, you knew how destructive he could be.

And you knew it wasn’t his fault. You knew that he was constantly trying to be better, which was why he moved back into the manor in the first place. To be with family, hoping that the company and care and attention would help his mental state.

Yet, against all your inner voices screaming at you to stop, against all you rationality, you couldn’t help but provoke him even more, because you were just fucking sick and tired with him treating you like shit when you had tried so hard to be nice to him.

“All this while you refuse to acknowledge me as your sister, you ignore me, push me away, fucking criticize my choice of clothes,” you seethed, “And now you’re telling me that I can’t do whatever the fuck I want with my own body?”

“You can do whatever you want,” he replied, “I just won’t let you.”

“Let me?” you repeated, “Let me?! Who the fuck are you? Because you’re obviously trying very hard to not be my brother!”

“Fucking hell, listen to yourself!” he groaned, “Spouting all this brother, sister crap! I know you try your goddamn best to fill whatever void you have with this family shit, but you want to know the hard and honest truth?”

He stalked towards you, jaw set and mouth in a thin line before leaning in close and saying the harsh words in a dead voice, “I will never think of you as my sister.”

Your breath stuttered then. If it was any other situation, it would have been because he was so close to you that you could feel his warm breath on your face. But this time, it was because you were trying hard to force back the tears into your eyes.

Did he really hate you that much?

Instead of asking him that direct question, you tested his patience even more.

“Just because your own mother betrayed you, doesn’t mean the rest of the world will,” you lashed out, “But you know what? I can see why she did it.”

And you regretted every single word you said the moment it came out of your mouth.

You saw Jason’s expression change, from the stable frustration before, into a flash of white hot anger. He was shaking, his nose flaring, his hands in fists.

“I- I-” you stuttered, “I didn’t mean-”

Before you registered what had happened, you jumped when you heard a loud bang!

In the raging anger he felt, Jason punched a large crack into the old wooden wall of the mansion, and then stormed off, kicking a vase down in the process of walking up the stairs. The final noise you heard from Jason was his door slamming shut.

Fuck.

You were a horrible person for saying that. The guilt crept in as you realised how harsh your words were.

Well, it wasn’t like he was nice to you either.

Still, he didn’t stoop so low as to bring up your painful past and use it against you.

Sighing, you argued with yourself in your head as you walked up the staircase to go to your own room. Jason’s room was just down the hall from yours, and you hesitated in front of your room, considering that maybe you should go and apologize.

With a deep breath, you head over to his door and raised your knuckles to knock, but midway, just a split second before you hit the wood, you noticed that the door was open by a teeny tiny crack.

And a tired moan coming from inside.

You froze, fist still in the air, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck.

Another moan, and the sound of the springs of his bed creaking.

No. No, no, no, you weren’t supposed to be there. You weren’t supposed to be listening in on his private, intimate moment.

You felt a tingle between your thighs.

Fuck, and you most definitely were not supposed to get turned on either.

Yet, at the back of your head you couldn’t help but add this piece of information like you would a note on a calendar.

Jason Peter Todd jacked off when he was angry.

Your brain told you to run, because what you were doing was wrong, an invasion, perverted. But despite your rational thinking, your feet were still glued right in front of his door, ears hypersensitive, straining to pick up every sound you could.

You closed your eyes and breathed in deep. Okay. You recollected yourself. Now it was time to go and maybe release your frustrations in the same way- but in your own bed with your door locked.

But as soon as you made to move, something else held you back that made you lose all your senses.

Another moan coming from Jason’s room, but this time it was your name.

He moaned your name.

You froze on the spot then, morals thrown out the window, you carefully inched closer to the gap between the door, straining your ear even more.

“Fuck, fucking bitch, fuck,” he panted.

Jason wasn’t terribly loud, but it was obvious that he was trying to restrain himself from being too noisy. After all, you all lived in a house full of vigilantes with trained heightened senses.

Now you were scared of being heard, because though you were only listening in, you could feel your breaths getting heavier and heavier, not unlike Jason’s.

And you kept on listening.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out loud, “Teasing people with that- hnngh- fucking skirt. Fuck!”

You accidentally let out a soft giggle, before clamping your palm against your mouth. You wanted to run away in fear that you were heard, but once you ran away, you knew you wouldn’t find it in you to come back and listen.

So you stayed your ground.

“Tight fucking shirt,” he continued, and you knew you were safe.

Huh.

Jason Peter Todd also liked to ramble while he jacked off.

At least now you knew why he hated your outfit so much. Who knew it was because he felt like he was being teased?

You were becoming more amused by the second, because hell- this was the guy who had his walls up so high, the same guy who refused to share anything remotely personal with anyone, and to see him crumble down and fuck his fist-

He let out a long, deep groan- and fuck.

Fuck.

Did the sounds of his cock get even wetter?

You needed to see him.

You decided to get on your hands and knees on the floor, thinking that standing up would cast more shadows and make it a bit more obvious that someone was outside the door listening in. So you crouched and tried to make yourself seem as small as possible.

You pushed the door very very lightly, hoping that the hinges didn’t creak.

Now you had a view of Jason, who was lying down on his back, his dark blue t-shirt riding up to his chest. Your eyes trailed down to the deep V that went down to his body, a small patch of his happy trail, his grey sweatpants hitched down to his knees, and his perfect, thick, swollen cock hard in his fist, glistening wet.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the view, feeling your panties getting soiled by the second.

Have you ever been that horny in your life? Probably not.

Jason was brutally fucking his fist, and fuck, even though the view was less than perfect because you were too scared to push the door open wider, you could see how fucking tight he was gripping his shaft.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

The rustling of his movements, the heavy stuttering breathing, the slick sounds.

You tried to resist, you really did.

But then, he raised his palm to his mouth and fucking spat onto it loudly, fucking filthily before going back down to continue.

That’s it. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You lifted up your skirt and pushed your panties aside, sliding a finger in between your folds and biting your lip so you don’t moan.

So you don’t run inside his room and beg him to take you right then and there.

Your eyes travelled back up to his face and was hardly surprised to see that he didn’t exactly look like he was pleasuring himself.

His eyes were shut tight, his eyebrows stitched together, his expression in an angry scowl, occasionally biting his lower lip, occasionally parted to take in deep breaths, occasionally whispering your name.

He looked furious as he stroked his cock.

“Fucking Christ,” he rasped, “Wanna fuck. Wanna fuck you. Fuck.”

And of course Jason Peter Todd would take the Lord’s name in vain while he had his dick in his hand.

What was wrong with your brain? The man was technically confessing that he wanted to fuck you in depraved growls, for fuck’s sake. Why were you focusing on the stupid little details?

Like how long has it been since he started? Did he immediately take off his pants and start masturbating right after your fight, the minute he slammed the door shut, while you were downstairs wallowing in guilt?

Kinky son of a bitch.

You started rubbing circles on your clit, feeling the shoot of pleasure spread in your body, heightening your heart rate even more.

If he really did jerk off right after your fight, does that mean he does it every time he got angry?

You added a note at the back of your head again: Make Jason Peter Todd angry more often.

Fuck, but didn’t that mean he had been going at it for awhile now? Was he going to come soon?

You resisted a groan that almost escaped your lips at the thought of being able to see him spurt his cum on his washboard abs.

You picked up the pace of your own, matching it to Jason’s.

But your back and knees were getting kind of sore already, so you tried to shift around a bit. In that process, you lost your balance. And to regain your balance, your unoccupied hand went straight for the door.

And accidentally pushed it open, stumbling into his room.

“What the fuck!” you heard him gasp.

You froze on the spot, your hand still down your skirt, making eye contact with Jason who was already standing up, cock tucked back in his sweatpants- though that didn’t make a difference because phew, a hard dick in a pair of grey sweatpants was a sight.

You cleared your head and scrambled back to your feet, heart thumping loudly and face heating up at the embarrassment of being caught.

“Uh- I- uh- I thought of saying sorry,” you panicked, “And uh- I didn’t- I didn’t hear- see! Ididn’tseeanythingsorrybye-”

You turned to run away, to lock yourself up in your room and never ever come out. You didn’t even see Jason cross the room and snatch your wrist, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you.

He had you against the door now, his grip on your wrist tight, his body just inches away from yours and god you wanted to feel his hard on against you.

“I think,” you started, “I think you broke the lock when you slammed the door hard. It’s okay I’m sure Alfred can-”

“Why are your fingers wet?” he asked in a low voice.

“Wha?”

You noticed that the hand he was gripping was the one you were using to touch yourself, and he was gripping it high up to his face.

You gulped.

“I was just- uh- washing!” you rambled, “I was washing my hands and didn’t dry them off. Oopsie daisy.”

You let out a nervous laugh, but then was cut short when Jason tilted his face towards your wrist, his nose touching and breathing onto your skin. He took a deep breath, smelling your hand as he travelled from the fleshy part below your thumb up to your two wet fingers.

You clenched your thighs.

“Washing, were you?” he smirked, his eyes hooded and dark.

“Mhmm,” you nodded furiously.

He closed his eyes and continued smelling your fingers.

What the fuck?

Then, and you admit that a piece of you died a little and went to heaven at that point, he let out a small lick at the tip of your index finger.

And fucking groaned, the kind of groan the reverberated back into your bones, the kind of groan that made you feel everything he was feeling.

Your brain basically short-circuited.

When you thought that he couldn’t get any hotter, and any more embarrassing, he took your whole two fingers into his mouth.

Your jaw dropped.

He started sucking on your fingers, his eyes now opened and staring at you intensely, and fuck you could feel his tongue swirling on your fingers, wet and hot and desperate.

“Jason,” you breathed.

He let your fingers out with a pop, and the released your hand.

“Touch yourself,” he instructed.

And you weren’t going to fucking argue with that.

You hiked your skirt up, pushed your panties aside again, and with the fingers that had just been in his mouth, you started rubbing your clit.

Your mouth fell into a little “O”, and Jason?

Jason just watched.

With his breathing hard, his warm breath fanning across your face, he didn’t even look down to where you were touching. No, he just stared deep into your eyes as you continued.

Then, he rested his forehead against yours and let out a soft moan. You heard rustling again, and you looked down, and saw him fisting his cock near your lower belly, as you kept on going at your clit.

“Oh my god, fuck,” you looked up at him, breaths mingling with each other, tips of your noses brushing against one another, as you both touched yourselves.

“You made me angry, baby,” he purred, his other hand going up to cradle the back of your head.

You watched as his thick biceps flexed and rippled as he jerked his fist.

It was funny to you. Just a few minutes ago, he told you that he would never think of you as his sister, and now here he was calling you baby.

Oh. Oh.

Boy, were you stupid.

“Do you always masturbate when you’re angry?” you whispered.

“Sometimes,” he breathed back.

“I just made a mental reminder to make you angry more,” you told him.

“Hmm?” he smirked, “And why would you do that?”

“So I can spy on you,” you blurted.

Jason chuckled the hottest fucking chuckle you’ve ever heard. “You don’t need to spy on me. All you gotta do is ask.”

“But,” you argued mid-wanking, “That takes the fun out of everything.”

“Oh, really?” he said, taking steps back.

His fist kept on going non-stop while he walked backwards towards his bed, and you didn’t notice it before, but his pants were completely gone.

He walked until his knees hit the edge of the bed, and then he sat down, all the while never stopping his strokes.

“So you think this,” to make a point, he started fucking his cock faster and harder for a bit, “Isn’t fun?”

You didn’t understand how someone could be so hot.

“Okay, fine,” you conceded, leaning back against the door because you were worried your knees were going to go out anytime, “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he scoffed, “Comere.”

“There?” you hesitated, suddenly nervous at his invitation.

Even in the midst of horny bliss, you suddenly remembered that Jason was never close to you. You didn’t know a thing about him, and you never really connected.

“Yeah,” he frowned, his fist stilling, “Unless you don’t want to.”

“No!” you hurriedly said, “I do. God, trust me, I do. But it’s just…”

“But?”

“I always thought you hated me, Jason,” you stopped your fingers as well, standing upright, “I don’t want this to be a one time thing, and then you go back to hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he shook his head in surprise, “I never hated you.”

“Really? Because somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Look,” he sighed, “The reason why I was so mean to you is because I didn’t know how to act around you. And being mean was the only thing I know how to do. But I never hated you. It’s the opposite, in fact.”

“You like me?” you asked, hopeful.

“Sure I do,” he shrugged nonchalantly, but you noticed his ears slowly turning pink.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I never imagined that Jason Peter Todd would tell me he liked me while he was sitting on his bed without any pants,” you giggled.

“You wanna come here or not?” he huffed.

You smiled and walked over to him, stopping right in front of him, between his opened thighs. You looked down into his eyes, blue and fierce, and always so intense. He took off his shirt, so he was there, right there, in all his naked glory.

“Take off your clothes,” he murmured.

You didn’t know what to say back except to just do what he had instructed you to do. So you firstly peeled off your tight baby doll shirt, and then slid down your skirt.

What do you know, you thought you noticed him gulping.

“All of it, sweetheart,” he demanded, “I want to see all of you.”

You nodded, and reached behind to unhook your bra, letting your breasts fall. You saw Jason’s immediate change in expression. His jaw went slack, and was looking at you in awe. You were just going to slip down your panties until-

“Too slow,” he said, and then gripped you by the waist and threw you onto the bed on your back.

He immediately went to attack your breasts, sucking and biting and nipping onto your nipple, pinching the other one with his free hand, squeezing and tugging.

“Jason,” you moaned, his warm tongue drawing circles on your nipples. He travelled further below, leaving a trail of opened mouth kisses on your skin.

And finally he reached the place you wanted him to be at the most, his hot breath hovering over your panties. He proceeded to start licking your folds over them, drenching your already wet panties even more with his mouth.

He continued to mouth at your core, teasing you with occasional nips, but never directly stimulating your clit.

He was good at driving a girl crazy in more ways than one.

“Jason,” you whined, “More.”

“More?” he smirked.

“Yes, stop teasing,” you complained.

He laughed and pulled your panties down swiftly, but he didn’t go back in between your thighs, where you arguably thought he belonged.

He came up to you and kissed you deeply, for the first time. He sucked on your lower lip, playing at the entrance of your mouth with the tip of his tongue, prodding but never really entering.

Unfortunately, he was also doing the same with his cock.

You had your legs spread as wide as they could, presenting yourself to him, yet there he was still teasing you by pushing up his tip against your entrance, but then going to your clit to circle on it, and then brushing down your slick folds to tease you some more.

“Now you know how I feel when you wear those short skirts out,” he growled against your lips, “Fucking cock tease.”

“They weren’t even that short,” you pouted.

“If I can get glimpses of your panties when you bend down, then they’re short,” he argued back, “God, the things you do to me.”

He went to your neck to suck on the delicate skin, no doubt leaving marks to be questioned by everyone in the morning.

“Y-y-you,” you stuttered into a sigh when he started tapping his cock against your clit, “Your arms are nice.”

Stupid, stupid.

He burst into laughter, muffling himself using the crook of your neck.

“My arms are nice?”

“Yeah, I want you to choke hold me with them.”

He suddenly met your eyes, surprised.

“What?” you asked.

“Holy fuck,” he simply muttered, and then crashed his lips into yours again, this time shoving his whole tongue inside to taste you.

And thank God, he did the same with his cock.

He slowly pushed in at your entrance, stretching you deliciously apart.

The both of you groaned in unison, finally able to really feel each other.

His pace was slow, but it soon build, all the while you were thrashing about, trying to grip onto something, because his cock had filled you up so fucking perfectly, you knew you were going to feel it for days after.

“Fuck, Jason,” you closed your eyes tight.

“Yeah, baby?” he panted in your ear, “You like my cock in your pussy?”

“Yes,” you whispered, unable to voice out more in fear of being incoherent.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned out loud, his pace increasing even more, “Feel so good around my cock, baby.”

You only heard his dirty, sexy voice, the wet sounds amplifying with every thrust, his stuttered laboured breathing and his sharp intakes of breaths, and fuck that was enough to tip you over the edge.

“Jason,” you moaned, unable to say anything else.

“Take my cock, sweetheart,” he gasped, “Fuck, so much better than I imagined.”

He gripped both your thighs in each of his hands, and then pushed them back towards you, so he could fuck you at a better angle, a better pace.

And he pummeled into your pussy, fucking you into the goddamn mattress as you did nothing but cry and whine and whimper and moaned, his cock hitting every pleasure spot inside you.

You felt yourself climbing, going higher and higher into ecstasy with every “fuck” coming from Jason, every loud groan you knew someone in the house would hear, every breath he took that was becoming more irregular.

“You want to come, sweetheart?” he asked, “I can feel you getting tighter, fuck.”

You nodded furiously, trying so much to reach that high.

Then, he leaned in, and whispered in your ear with the lowest, huskiest, desperate voice you’ve ever heard.

“Too fucking bad.”

He stopped his motions altogether.

Your eyes shot open.

“What?” you nearly shouted, “Jason!”

“You made me angry, didn’t you,” he gave you a shit eating grin, “Did you really think I was going to help you get off after that?”

“But-but-” you started, “I already said sorry!”

“Sorry’s not enough, baby,” he tutted, “I want you to beg for it.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he raised an eyebrow, “Beg.”

Thrust.

“For.”

Thrust.

“This.”

Thrust.

“Cock.”

Fuck, you were going absolutely insane.

“Jason,” you whined, “Jason, please. Please, I need your cock, Jason. I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You threw away every single dignity you had.

Hey, the man’s got a good cock.

“Why should I fuck a girl who likes to piss me off?” he growled, jaw clenched.

“Because, sir,” you tested. “I promise to be good next time. And if I’m not, then…”

You trailed off.

“Then?” he prompted.

“Then you can punish me,” you finished.

“Fuck,” he started fucking you again, “Fine.”

That didn’t take much. Jason obviously had a thing for begging and being called sir.

This time, he pounded into you with a force that knocked your breath out, and he continued to do so until you were climbing again.

And this time, he didn’t stop.

“Baby,” he rasped, “Baby, come with me.”

“Jason.”

You felt his thrusts getting faster and faster, though more sloppy and irregular, desperate to chase his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he gasped, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You felt it, the moment Jason let go, you reached your peak, feeling yourself sliding into the realm of pure pleasure as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

He quickly pulled out and came all over your stomach, some reaching your breasts, some hitting your fucking chin. Then, he collapsed next to you, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“Fuck,” he agreed.

The both of you burst into laughter, the first laughter you ever shared together.

And you knew from then on, it was okay if he didn’t see you as his sister, because you most definitely could not see him as your brother- and you realised you never did.

You were just so desperate to get close to him that you’d use any excuse you could find.

But you’ve successfully closed the gap between you and Jason Peter Todd, and you knew you were currently witnessing his walls slowly crumbling down, bit by bit, right in front of you.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd reader imagine #red hood and the outlaw #batman #dc #dc comics

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thesassywitchofthenortheast · 4 years

Text

Late Night, Date Night

A/N: I’ve had this like half finished for a while now, but I finally got the thought on how to finish it, so. Here we go! A little Dickkory fluff.

I hope you are al staying healthy and safe. I look forward to screaming about season 3 with you all very soon!

The vibrating of the table shakes Dick out of his fog, scrambling through mountains of papers to find the culprit. His phone is buried, he can’t even remember the last time he’d seen it - somewhere between going over the initial case report and finding the connection to a older cold case. He finds it just in time, hurriedly answering the call without checking the caller ID.

“Well, look at that. You do know how a phone works, who knew.” Kory’s voice shakes him even farther out of his haze - her worried, yet incredibly annoyed tone bringing the real world back with full force.

“Fuck. Baby, I’m sorry.” He sits up in his desk chair, throwing his head back to look at the clock on the wall. 9:45 pm, a full three and a half hours past when he had promised to be home for their date. “I got sucked into this case and I lost track of time.”

“Mhm.”

“I really am sorry.”

“I know. You said that last week too.” She sighs, loudly. His guilt of forgetting once again, made even worse by the tone in her voice. Kory was clearly heartbroken, another promise he had broken.

“In my defense, last week wasn’t entirely my fault. Bruce had that Joker issue.” Dick know’s its a sorry excuse, but he says it anyway. Maybe if he can blame last week on Bruce, the pain of forgetting twice will subside.

“True..” She takes a long pause, like she’s debating whether to start a fight - or simply let it go. Again. “Still, that’s two weeks in a row of you bailing on date night, Detective.”

“It’s not like I want to -”

“You just get caught up and lose track of time.” She finishes his sentence, with an ease that makes his heart hurt. She knows him, too well. Knows his lines, his excuses, his reasons. Dick loves it, most days. The ease of knowing there is no reason to hide himself from her. That he can be open and love, fully, without fear or judgement. “And to think I got all dressed up and pulled your favorite dress out of the closet.”

“Oh, not the red one.” Dick leans back in his chair, eyes closing as he tries to picture her in the dress.

“Yes, the red one.”

“Damn it.” He sits up, taking a swig from the now very cold coffee on his desk. “If I swear on my life that I’ll be home by 10:30, will you keep it on?”

“See, if I said yes, then you’d get away with forgetting our date. Again. And we can’t have that.”

“Kory, you’re killing me.”

“I am well aware of that.”

There’s rustling on her end of the line, like she’s walking through a door - or taking of the dress which pains him in more ways than one. “It’s a good thing that you’re predictable, Grayson.”

“What do you mean?”

“Turn around.” He does, at a speed that would rival Barry or Wally, and his breath catches.

Kory is there, a few rows of desks back, wearing the red dress and holding a bag of take out. “I had a feeling you’d forget so I called the front desk an hour ago and asked if you were still at the precinct.” She smiles and struts over to his desk, her stilettos clicking with every step, until she’s leaning against it as she places the food on top of the massive pile of papers. “So, I’ve brought myself and dinner to you. I’m forcing you to take a break and eat - and actually spend time with me.” She says the last part with a shadow of pain - as if she actually believes he’d ever avoid being alone with her.

“Hey,” Dick moves to stand before her, cupping her cheek in his hand, “I love you. You know that, right?” Her nod of acknowledgment is small, but it’s there. “Don’t ever feel like I don’t want to be with you, okay? I don’t forget on purpose.”

“I know,” Kory’s voice is small, unsure.

“There’s no where else I’d rather be.” He looks at her deeply, with all the love he has for her pouring into her vibrant green eyes. He kisses her briefly, before turning to the bag on the desk behind her.

“That smells amazing.” Dick reaches to pull the takeaway boxes out of the paper bag. “How’d you manage to get Parallel 37 to do this? I thought they didn’t do take out?”

“They don’t,” She smiles, moving around him to sit in his chair. “You’re not the only one with connections you know.” Kory crosses her legs in that way she does, a devilish grin on her face.

He laughs, shaking his head. He could pester her to find out how and who, but it’s not worth it. Not while she’s sitting here, at his desk, with food, looking like she’s just been dropped straight from Heaven itself.

Dick places his hands on either side of the chair and leans in close. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.” Kory smiles again, leaning her forehead against his own.

“I also really fucking love you in this dress.”She laughs jubilantly and he wastes no time in capturing her laughter in a kiss. It lasts perhaps a moment too long for their current setting, but he doesn’t really care.

When he can finally muster the strength to pull away, Dick makes quick work of turning his desk into a functional dining table. As he hands her a tupperware of food, he makes a mental note to set an alarm on his phone for the next date night. He’ll be damned if he misses another moment with her like this.

#dickkory #dickkory ff #titans #dc #koriand'r #dick grayson #took me way to long to get the end right #still dont like love but whatever #its dickkory fluff so really why complain lol

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loubuggins · 5 years

Note

Hey! Do you mind if I ask for some Titans!Gar headcanons of yours? :) Thanks!

Why certainly Anon! I’m always down to talk about my boy!

- Gar’s favorite jacket is his favorite because Rita made it just for him, by hand. It was Cliff’s idea to add the green paw print.

- Gar has perfect pitch even though no one knows it. Not even him. He just happens to be really good at playing most instruments and singing. When Jason went out to buy a guitar, he took Gar with him and the boy pick one up and started playing like a natural. He liked the feeling of playing it so much, he bought one too.

- When Rachel finds out he can play, she gets him to play a song for her. He’s super nervous about it, but as his fingers begin to strum the cords, he finds himself getting lost in the song. Rachel was too busy watching him that she forgot to poke fun at him and instead just sat and listened intently. When he was done, she told him if this hero thing doesn’t work out, he should start a band and she’ll be his manager.

- Kory reminds Gar of Rita in a lot of ways. Confident, classy, and good at advice. Sometimes when he feels homesick, he’ll try to hang out with her. Kory knows all too well what it’s like to miss home, even if you know you are where you belong.

- After the incident with Trigon, Dick has been extra nice to Gar. He always makes sure there’s a vegan option in the fridge or when they eat out. He doesn’t get onto him as much as he does the others if he’s late to training or goofing off. And whenever Gar wants to buy something, rather it is a new collectible, new clothes, or video game, it doesn’t take much to convince Dick to pay. Gar doesn’t take advantage of Dick’s kindness, but it’s clear to the others that Dick babies him a bit.

- Dick eventually breaks down and lets Gar talk to Batman over the phone. Bruce agreed to one minute and not a second more. Best. Birthday. Ever.

- Gar really wants to work on turning into other animals, but his favorite is still the Tiger.

- Gar has every gaming console one could want, including a vintage Atari. He can’t fit his old pinball and gaming machines in his new room, but at least he has more games to choose from.

- Gar loves streaming his games and sometimes Rachel with come into his room and watch him. He got her to say hi one time, but then all the guys started asking Gar about “his new girlfriend” and he got flustered and rage quit the stream. Rachel wasn’t too bothered by it, but Gar doesn’t ask her to talk anymore on his streams.

- Gar played video games with most everyone in the tower. He taught Rachel a few games, but she loses interest quickly and usually just prefers to watch. He and Jason can blow the night on a single game as long as it involves combat of some kind (Jason also introduced him to Grand Theft Auto). Dick found him playing in his room and was curious about what all the fuss was about so he gave it a go. Turns out, Dick really sucks at virtual hand-to-hand combat, but he held his own as an archer. Kory tried playing once too, but she got pissed and ended up melting Gar’s good controller. She gave him a $100 bill and said “Don’t tell Dick.”

- Gar becomes the official Krypto dogsitter whenever Conner can’t watch him.

- Dick got Gar a bunch of books about biology and anatomy to help him with his powers but found out through Rachel that Gar doesn’t know how to read. He’s functionally illiterate, which means he knows enough words to get by, but he really struggles with the academic books Dick got him. Realizing it’s not Gar’s fault he isn’t studying, Dick comes up with a new approach. He buys a bunch of nature documentaries, takes Gar to meet with biologists he has connections with, and yes, hires a private tutor to build up his reading skills.

I could go on all day, but hopefully, these are enough for now. Thanks for asking!

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caffeinatedtimdrake · 5 years

Text

Cookie Monster

A/N: 1.4k of Tim Drake x reader fluff in which he steals your cookies AND your heart, and you are not having it.

Tim watches you warily, azure eyes blown wide and brows lifted circumspectly. He gingerly lifts his left foot, sneaker squeaking against dark Cherrywood floors, to take a step backwards.

“Tim.”

He winces a little, wrinkling his nose and leaning further away. “Y/N?”

“Did you finish the last thin mint?” You inquire tersely with all the dark authority of a malicious villain or perhaps a seething school teacher, eyes narrowed, and mouth pulled into a stern line.

He withers beneath your glare silently for several moments, a flower deprived of sunlight. “I swear I didn’t know it was the last box, Y/N.”

You exhale sharply in a huff of carbon dioxide and agitation. Your voice is eerily calm when you tell him, “I’m going to end you.”

For a heartbeat he only sees you in the waning light of the manor, sun dust floating between the rays of light that peek through the long curtains against the parlor curtains and trace the pretty angles of your face.

And then he turns sharply on his foot and throws himself down the hallway, lanky legs carrying him away from your ire.

“I DON’T BUY IT, TIM DRAKE!” You snap, shoes slapping loudly against the floor.

“I PROMISE, Y/N!” He yelps, sharply turning a corner and flinging himself into the kitchen.

“YOU ATE THOSE COOKIES TO SPITE ME!” You bellow, wrenching open the door.

Tim dives behind Alfred. “Cookies are NOT worth murder!”

From the kitchen island, Damian quirks an eyebrow and sips apple juice. “I beg to differ, Drake.”

“Might I ask which cookies you two speak of?” Alfred inquires, inching away from Tim pointedly.

You squint at Tim and he flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “The thin mints.”

Alfred tuts disapprovingly. “Institutional cookies. Factory-made. Though I would be lying if I said they weren’t delicious.”

“Yes.” You agree. “And that is why Tim must pay with his blood and tears for finishing the last box.”

His voice gets a little squeaky. “They didn’t have your name on it!”

“When Diana decided to stash me here for the month, Bruce said I could have that tiny cabinet for food items I wanted to keep safe because he, and I quote, ‘lives with ravenous scavengers.”

Tim’s bottom lip juts out in a painfully endearing pout. Your fury wavers for a moment, tempered by his solemnity. “I didn’t know!”

This snaps against your skin like a taut rubber band, annihilating your saccharine daze. “Lies! You know everything, Tim Drake!”

Damian nearly cackles, beyond amused with the frivolous and quasi-violent exchange.

There’s a flare of weary hesitation across Tim’s features, milliseconds in which a tiny voice reminds you that no, Tim Drake does not know everything because he seems to have no idea you’ve been enamored with him for the past three months (but no amount of amour could excuse his cookie treachery).

He parts his lips, probably to offer another decrepit justification for eating your cookies, but he doesn’t get to finish because you charge at him again.

He yells and nimbly maneuvers around the counters and chairs and Titus’s water bowl, lunging towards the back door. He thunders down the cobblestone path, shouting defenses, feet stinging and heart racing.

Tim screeches to an abrupt halt when he realizes he doesn’t hear your footfalls nipping at his heels, glancing around the yard with narrowed eyes. He breathes in measured pants, chest heaving. He has surveyed the whole yard and thinks he might beeline back for the manor when you land on him with a surprisingly elegant thump.

He falls to the grass with a yelp and the two of you tousle for a bit between shouts and flying green – ineptly, in a manner that intensely undermines all of your superb superhero training.

“You asshat! I really wanted that last cookie!”

“But they’re so good! We can always – OUCH – buy more!”

“I don’t care, imbecile! I had a bad day! That cookie was my – AHHH – only motivation!”

“Killing me will not bring your cookie back, Y/N!”

“No, but it will bring me as much joy as that cookie would have.” You tell him simply.

You flip him over, effectively pining him to the grass, and he’s too tired to fight back – and, possibly, he enjoys this too much.

When Tim arches a brow, bemused smirk curling at the corner of his mouth and reaching his crystalline eyes, your pride hides her big head behind your shyness. “So, Y/N, how are you going to obliterate my existence?”

You freeze above him, spine stiff. Your thighs are tense and locked around his waist, and you gaze at him in horror because you are currently straddling the boy you want to both kiss and kill. You have him where you want him, but you don’t know what you want beyond this.

Tim is captivating here, sunlight pressing sweet kisses across his skin and evoking flecks of jade and honey and startling affection in his eyes, dark hair ruffled with echoes of bronze and chocolate. He is the type of lovely that leaves you breathless and being so close to him incites a dizzying spell of beauty – one that pacifies and then eradicates your bloodthirst.

He takes advantage of your lapse in judgement and overall functioning to flip you onto your back and you don’t even realize what’s happened until he leans over you, smart nose and raised eyebrows and the subtly cloying fragrance of…mint.

“W-what are you doing, Tim?” You warble, panic slithering down your throat and around your lungs and through your heart, settling the pit of your stomach. You know you have received enough training to effectively throw Tim Drake off of you and, probably, into the manor but you’re terrified. Something about the light dancing in his gaze and easy weight of his hips resting against your own petrifies you profoundly, more than any villainous force of evil.

The significance of an unhealthy snack seems minute in comparison to the way Tim Drake hovers above you like a fog of divinity.

His smile is warmer now and he leans back a little, shrugging. “Waiting for you to kill me.”

You have half a mind to grimace.

“From here, it doesn’t quite look like you’re in a homicidal rage over girl scout cookies.” Tim muses and you hate the startled gasp that escapes your mouth when Tim lithely springs to his feet, reeling a little from the sudden absence of pressure and his annoyingly pleasant preppy boy cologne.

He extends his hands to help you up and you lay there for a few moments before gingerly accepting the gesture of tentative peace. It takes him a few beats too long to drop your hands and you’re mostly numb, but it makes your face burn.

He clears his throat and you’re astonished to notice Tim in a similarly flustered state considering his formerly suave, coquettish front. “I really do apologize about the cookies. I, um, know they’re your favorite.”

Your mouth is little dry, but you shake your head and look at the grass. “It’s…okay.”

“I can go get you more. Or, if you want…” He trails off, glancing towards the brilliantly cloudless sky.

You look back up at him expectantly, pretty eyes bigger than the moon, and he wants to lose himself because they shine like sweet starlight and his heart is on the verge of exploding.

“We could go together?”

You blink at him. “I – yes. Okay. Together.”

From inside the manor, Damian and Alfred have been observing your interaction, promptly joined by Dick and Jason.

“I will bet three of Alfred’s chocolate chip cookies that Tim is gonna faint.” Jason declares.

Dick hums and counters, “Nah, five cookies says Y/N still punches him in the mouth for eating the cookie.”

Damian narrows his eyes attentively at the way you and Tim brush shoulders, ambling slowly back towards the manor with equally foolish smiles on your faces, and tilts his head thoughtfully.

“I would like to bet a whole batch that Drake and Y/N have already decided to go on a date. Most likely to somewhere outrageous, like a supermarket.”

Jason chuckles. “You’re on, kid.”

“Deal.” Dick says, unable to fight a cheesy smile when he sees the amorous, not murderous, interaction between you and Tim.

In the end, Damian spends the next night enjoying two dozen chocolate chip cookies while you and Tim spend the next weekend kissing and tracking all the thin mint vendors in the state.

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notforgottcn · 4 years

Photo

⧼ sophia bush, cis female, she/her / when the bell tolls by anthony ramos + taking a leap even though you don’t know how far the fall is, hot coffee and ballet shoes, filling out late night paperwork because you don’t want to go home yet ⧽ ━━ let me tell you a thing or two about ADELLA ROBBINS. the THIRTY SIX year old daughter of BRUCE WAYNE is a POLICE OFFICER in town, and has sometimes been referred to as THE PHOENIX. they’ve always seemed very DRIVEN & PHILANTHROPIC, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty ALOOF & UNFORGIVING, too. it’s common knowledge that they have NO ABILITY ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh?

tw: death,

BIOGRAPHY ::

you’re more alike to your birthmother than you will ever know, you have her smile, her walk. that’s what bruce would tell you if you were to ever ask him. you don’t. you feel enough of her ghost on your shoulders without having more information about her. you know a name that is all you want from the woman who left you first.

you are left on the steps to wayne manor. sometimes when you’re sad you like to picture what alfred’s face looked like when he found you out there in january cold. you stay with there for two months. there are photos of you with your siblings. dick kept one for years it would seem. still even here where you’re supposed to be safe, you only last for so long before you’re sent away again.

mr and mrs robbins gave you the best childhood that they could, and for awhile the pain of your origins are tucked away neatly in a draw that you don’t open very much. instead you excel at your education, throwing yourself into dance lessons enjoying the moments you could snag with your parents (they were busy people, you learnt very quickly not to hold it against them).

still things become harder as you get older, you’re the odd one out at that fancy school you attend. thought you’re not sure how they first found out. here is the first appearance of the fighter inside of you. it will be harder for you to ignore things now. your parents are called several times because you had lashed out at the people who had refused to leave you alone. you are told that were it not for your parents standing in the school community you would have likely been expelled. you are still incredibly proud of that black eye.

you take up martial arts as a compromise, with the understanding that you will behave in a manner more befitting your station in public. the fighting doesn’t really stop you just learn to mask your behaviour. a real sign that you are your fathers daughter.

at sixteen you’re sneaking into clubs making a name for yourself in the new york club scene. you only learn later that photos of you drunk and throwing up into a gutter are only going to undermine you later.

your parents passing in a mutant rights demonstration changes everything, throwing you into a world you’re not ready for. people want you to be an adult, but your nothing more than a child in your mother’s shoes. trying so hard but failing so fast. you easily see the bad sad of humanity, despite the fact that you come out relatively unscathed. it changes you, your angry and most importantly lonely. feelings that really wouldn’t go away.

the loneliness of being alone opens up things you had tidied away years ago. who were your birth parents? why did they give you up ? stupidly it would seem in hindsight you were trying to fill the space left by your parents with people you didn’t even know.

when the name on the test reads bruce wayne it stops everything. the first emotion you really remember is confusion. it was supposed to be someone you didn’t know, someone you could put behind you rather than someone who had been in the background for your entire life.

the first time you go to the mansion after the reveal you yell and scream as loud as your lungs could manage. how could he do this to you?? give you up to people who would manage to rip you apart. he hadn’t known, he couldn’t have, but you blame him for it anyway. him and them, the mutants that cause the accident, they’re the only ones you could, even as your brain tells you it’s stupid.

you remember telling him that you want nothing to do with him but even that doesn’t last too long. you move into the manor eventually, after digging your heels in and demanding to know everything. you find out about batman around the same time. the truth about your father, and as much as he knew about your mother.

that first year is hard, you are ripped from your life in new york and placed in a home that isn’t yours. the people in it are aching doing their best to heal from things that don’t involve you, and yet again you are unwanted by the majority a complication they don’t need.

still not everything in your life is bad, you are alive and for what it’s worth you have more family then you’ve ever had before. jason is the first to really make you feel at home. alfred assures you that the others will come around in time, you aren’t so sure.

taking up the cowl was technically dick’s idea, though you couldn’t become batgirl without permission from babs. just like everyone else in your family the bat becomes an outlet for your anger, a way to enact change and for a year you love it. you make the mantel your own and in some ways you’ve never felt more alive then you do in gotham at night.

just like everything else in life however it is possible to outgrow the hero antics and at nineteen you are more than ready to be something more than just batman’s sidekick. so you follow your heart and you leave. the next few years are a bit of lost time. you travel a lot (you parent’s money lets you) never really staying in one place for too long. still that doesn’t mean you don’t try for some form of stability. england is your favorite, grey skies and cups of tea, but somehow you always end up back in the states. especially after things there end badly. you get your heart broke and you can’t see the direction your pointing in anymore.

how predictable that you’d end up in new york again, some days feeling like you’d never even really left at all. still this time your not some wealthy girl. you’re enrolled in the police academy, you work your ass off and you’re on the streets by the time your twenty seven. it’s the perfect balance for you between the rush you used to get as batgirl but also working within the law. you can’t help but enjoy the fact you don’t need to cover your face.

still you’ve picked up a habit of moving on: new york, star city, gotham you’ve worked in each of them. paragon was an odder choice, after so long running from your family, your birth father’s legacy, but at the same time it feels like a good way of touching base for a while. besides, with everything that goes on in town, it’s probably a good idea to have a cop on hand who actually knows how the hero gig works.

FACTS ::

addy still dances but it’s more as a stress relief than anything close to professional.

her entire life goal (when it comes to the batkids) is to be considered the cool aunt though the extent to which that actually is questionable.

she has two cats toodles (x) and watson (x) and they’re her favorite thing in her whole world.

she functions entirely on caffeine, yes she knows it’s bad but it’s not a habit that she can see herself breaking.

a massive disney nerd!! she’s not sorry for it.

RELATIONSHIPS ::

family ;;

bruce wayne - father/ sperm donor. she doesn’t want this thanks.

alfred pennyworth - grandfather figure / secret keeper. they’re very close.

dick grayson - adopted brother / mentor. brings out the best in her.

jason todd - adopted brother / best friend. jason understands more than most.

tim drake - adopted brother / confidant. they go for coffee it’s cute.

cassandra cain - adopted sister / favorite batman. strong girls supporting strong girls

damian wayne - brother / terror. their dynamic is interesting at the best of times.

important ;;

adrian trevor - lost love / once in a lifetime. think luke and lorelai with extra angst.

friends ;;

andrea hill - close friend / ride or die. the person addy would call with a body.

ziva mizrahi - work friends / . someone addy trusts to have her back.

wanted connections ;;

travel buddies!! - anyone that she could have traveled with or met when travelling.

all the brotps: honestly give her friends.

anyone she could have interacted with as a cop good or bad.

league kids she’s keeping an eye on.

league kids her own age she likes to get a drink with.

any other kid she might feel protective of because lbr that’s all of them.

#sidekick.intro

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batfamily-trash · 5 years

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Heartless Assassins and Fluffy Stuffed Animals

Writing Prompt: A heartless assassin must put stuffed animals around themselves when they sleep to keep from rolling off their bed.

Warning: Language

v/n - Vigilante Name

f/c - Favorite Color

Italics are your thoughts

Working with the Justice League was no joy for v/n. Having to follow their rules and whatnot wasn’t enjoyable. v/n was born to be a heartless assassin. Not the Justice League’s lapdog. Especially Batman. He treated them like a little kid, and they were tired of it. v/n had finished with her ‘work’ so they made their way back to their apartment in Gotham City when they ran into one of the Batkids.

“Well, what do we have hereeee,” Spoiler exclaimed.

“A tired assassin who wants to go home and sleep for a week,” v/n grumbled.

“Cheer up v/n!” Spoiler said as she skipped her way towards v/n, “The night is still young and…”

“He needs me for something doesn’t he,” v/n Interrupted.

Spoiler stopped in her place and looked at v/n with amusement. She continued her way towards v/n and stopped about three feet in front of them.

“How’d you know?” She asked tilting her head to the side a bit.

“You guys tend to avoid me at any costs. The only time you or the bat brats try to engage in conversation with me is when Batman needs me for a stupid job that he can’t do or needs help with.”

“Okay, you caught me. He needs you to report to the Batcave.”

y/n just stared at Spoiler and groaned. Couldn’t he wait until morning or something? They thought.

v/n sighed and said, “Go tell that fucking emo looking, burnt walnut to talk to me about missions in ten hours or at least after I get an adequate amount of sleep to actually function like a fucking human being and not a damn robot.”

“Alrighty then,” Spoiler murmured as she back away from the tired assassin. After she made sure she was far enough from y/n, she made her way to the Batcave to tell Batman exactly what v/n said.

After walking and making sure to avoid the batfamily y/n arrived at their apartment living room window. They slowly opened it and made their way in. While making their way to their bedroom, they began to discard their outfit and weapons, not caring where they landed and if they were visible or not. All that y/n cared about was sleep.

y/n changed into their usual sleepwear and face planted on their bed. After a couple minutes, they realized that they forgot to ACTUALLY fix their bed to go to sleep. They groggily got off the bed and began to look for every single stuffed animal they owned and placed them on the edge of their bed to form a protective barrier to keep them from falling off the bed. Once they finished setting the barrier of stuffed animals they went to sleep.

Stephanie sauntered into the Batcave without a care in the world. Inside she found Damian and Cass sparring, Jason cleaning his guns, and Dick, Tim, and Bruce looking at some case files on the Batcomputer. Stephanie smirked and removed her hood and mask as she made her way towards Tim.

“I’m back!” She exclaimed.

“We can see that Brown,” Damian said.

Steph rolled her eyes and ignored him.

“Where’s y/n?” Bruce asked.

“Oh, about that. They told me to tell you to talk to them in 10 hours or at least after they got some sleep.”

“Did they actually say that?” Dick asked as he looked over his shoulder. By this time, Damian and Cass had stopped sparring and Jason was listening closely to the conversation.

“Yes, but they also called Bruce an emo looking burnt walnut.”

At that comment Jason immediately began to laugh, Dick, Tim, and Cass tried to contain their giggling but Bruce heard them anyway, and Damian, poor Damian was confused. Why would y/n call his father a burnt walnut? What kind of insult is that?

Bruce sighed and looked at his kids. “Fine, we’ll go talk to them in the morning, but for now everyone go to bed.”

“But we still….” Tim began.

“The case will still be here in the morning Tim.” And with that everyone left to their respective homes and rooms.

Morning came and the batboys thought it would be better to go get y/n without Bruce. All four boys changed into their suits and left the Manor and Batcave towards y/n apartment.

When the boys arrived they let themselves in through the same window that y/n came in through the night before. Once they entered, they began to explore the assassin’s home. Tim raided the kitchen for coffee while the rest looked for the assassin.

Jason came across a slightly opened door so he slowly opened it just to see the assassin they were looking for surrounded by stuffed animals. He covered his mouth with his hand to muffle the laughter and called the rest of the boys. None of the boys could believe their eyes. In front of them was the world’s most heartless assassin in existence surrounded by a variety of adorable and fluffy stuffed animals.

“AWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!” Dick said loudly.

The rest of the boys tried to hush him before they awoke the assassin but they were a tad too late.

“The fuck, THE HELL ARE YOU FUCKITY FUCKERS DOING HERE!” y/n yelled as they threw multiple stuffed animals at the intruders.

The boys ran off laughing as the angry assassin assaulted them with stuffed animals and empty threats

And ever since that day the Batfamily have never stopped teasing the assassin.

#batfamily #batman #batfamily x reader #stephanie brown #stephanie brown x reader #spoiler #spoiler x reader #batboys x reader

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heartslogos · 5 years

Text

EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT TO THE BATMAN [43]

“I do not know you,” Li says. “Do not speak to me. This time was not paid for.”

Tim loves her. Tim loves her so, so much. She’s what every employee should eventually be someday. Well. Either her or Tam. Those two are the only ones he’d trust with W.E. aside from Lucius, who, frankly, caves a little too easily to the Wayne’s for Tim’s comfort.

Honestly, Li and Tam could run this place if they cared to. If they cared about Tim at all they would take over. Seeing as how his boss is neither of these women, nor has he been fired, they obviously don’t care. Tim expects that kind of professional detachment from Li. It just hurts from Tam.

Jason looks like he’s been stunned with a cattle prod. Tim barely gets his expression of complete and total glee under control before he turns around to look at Tim with a look of utter bafflement.

“Are you a virus?” He asks. “Does your attitude spread to every single employee? All that your shadow touches? What’s the deal?”

“I’m quite sure that I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Tim says as Li steadfastly walks straight past them into the entrance to WE and disappears into the crowd of employees slowly coming back in from lunch breaks or errands out and around the city away from their desks. There are, of course, amenities on cite but several memo’s from HR and Benefits have been sent out encouraging employees to seek their breaks off of W.E. properties.

It’s doing wonders for overall company morale. People just feel safer bitching about their jobs and generally trying to zone out and astral project their souls into a different reality where they don’t work for Bruce Wayne when they aren’t on W.E. territory.

Much like how you’d feel much safer about not being mauled by, say, an alligator if you aren’t in Florida. Or how you’d feel more certain about your chances of not being savaged by a lion if you weren’t in the savannah.

Of course, this is Gotham, and your chances of running into someone with either the Wayne name or connections is statistically higher than being attacked by an alligator in Florida, or a lion in the savannah. Really, the odds of you interacting with a Wayne family member are statistically…awful. It’s unreal. It’s a truly disproportionate number. It shouldn’t be that high.

“I,” Jason blinks, still confused, “Did nothing to that lady. I think. I feel like I’d remember her if I did. I didn’t. I’m fairly sure I didn’t.”

“Li isn’t one for pleasantries,” Tim says. “I wouldn’t take it to heart, sir. You weren’t looking for her?”

“No. Why? Was I supposed to be?”

Ah, so Jason isn’t the next step in Mr. Wayne’s attempts at securing funding for a new aerospace project.

“No particular reason,” Tim says. “May I ask what business you have here today, sir? And if you’re alone?”

There aren’t supposed to be any Wayne family members on cite today. Tim’s eyes dart around. He doesn’t even try to hide it when he turns around to check if someone’s behind him. He’s normally better at sensing if someone is directly behind him, but Cassandra’s current geographical location is unknown and she has a true and unwavering ability to turn into a ghost that no camera, sensor, or human survival instinct can catch.

“What, I can’t see my favorite executive assistant?” Jason replies. “That’s cold.”

“That’s business.”

Jason rolls his eyes and follows Tim towards the elevators.

“Dick told me to come, said if I did I’d get to see something hilarious. I was bored and had nothing better to do,” Jason says. “My social life isn’t exactly booming, you know?”

“The perks of being incorrectly declared dead, I imagine.”

“Right. Perks. So. You have any idea what kind of bullshit Dick’s up to that he thought he’d be able to get me to do it for him?” Jason asks.

“At least you know when you’re being manipulated.”

“That was manipulation? Jesus. The bar’s really low these days. Back in my day — “

“Yes, yes,” Tim cuts in before Jason can go into an overly dramatic rendition of the early nineties like he and Tim aren’t almost the same age. Give or take. Depending on how you count the years. Jury’s still out on whether the years where Jason was counted as deceased count towards anything other than physical age. Literally, Jason’s new PR team has no idea on how they want to spin this. If they lean too far one way it could block off all potential uses for using it any other way.

This is why Tim’s been very carefully avoiding the issue for the past few years. Much easier to just not address the topic and distract the rest of the world with other things. Like Damian Wayne. It also sets up Damian with a lot of positive press and name recognition for later.

For when Damian takes over this god forsaken farce of a company and sets him free.

“So? What’s Dick up to? You can tell me, I know I’m your favorite.”

“Based on?”

“My incredible good looks? My charm and wit? My charisma?” Jason suggests. “The fact that I’ve caused you the least amount of stress lines?”

Tim, at his moment, does like Jason the most just because prior to today he hadn’t seen Jason at all for about a week. The less Waynes he has to deal with per day the better it is for his health. Honestly, Jason doesn’t come around very often which means Tim has less to worry about.

“Right,” Tim barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Mr. Wayne and Mr. Grayson are currently attempting to secure funds for personal aerospace technology research. Their attempts have been unsuccessful thus far.”

“How much money are we talking here?”

“Well over their quarterly budget,” Tim says as they get onto the elevator. Everyone immediately gets off. There is no one in the company who would willingly be in an elevator with a Wayne and Tim without a legitimate reason or explicitly stated invitation or command to do so. “Which they’ve already gone through.”

“Yikes. So…is that no on new motorcycles?”

“New motorcycle?”

“Oh, so you don’t know about it?”

Tim slowly turns to face Jason completely as the elevator doors close and Tim slides his card through the reader and entered the security code for lock down.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m about to.”

Jason stares at him.

“What is wrong with you. Did you just take an elevator offline?”

“We have four more functioning ones,” Tim answers. “Tell me about the motorcycles.”

“I’m no nark.”

“But you’re reasonable, name your price and I’ll offer you immunity. This is a one time offer. Remember that I will find out about this with or without your help. Tell me now and be spared, or hear me tell you about it later and face the consequences. Your choice, sir.”

#heartsfic #c: the dreamer who always sees the stars #c: icarus rising

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psyched2b · 6 years

Text

Drenched Cuddles (Dick Grayson X Reader)

Warnings: There is a whole line of swearing in the beginning.

MASTERLIST

The rain was pouring down on me and I felt like screaming. Of course, the one night all my friends go out of town, my car decides to break down in the middle of nowhere and my phone is dead. Not only that, but my keys are conveniently locked in the car, taunting me from the passenger seat where I had accidentally left them. Things couldn’t possibly be worse. And then there was a flash of lightning that brightened the sky and the thunder that followed shook the ground.

“Fuck, dammit! Damnity damn fuck shit damn!” I yelled in exasperation, cursing whatever greater power out there clearly had it out for me. I despised thunderstorms, and that was when I was safely tucked away in my house with a million blankets and four walls protecting me. Now I was left in the dark woods, at least twenty miles away from anything. In my anger, I kicked the side of my car, immediately regretting it as my foot began to throb. I guess it’s time to admit I need to work on my anger management, I thought bitterly to myself. Looking around helplessly, I debated what my options were. I could try to walk home, but again, it was pitch black, storming and miles away. Not to mention that the outskirts of Gotham weren’t the safest (as if any part of Gotham was). That plan wasn’t reasonable as I remember that my house key was attached to my car key, safely tucked away into my car and thanks to my overprotective boyfriend, it was impossible to break into my house like I used to be able to. The other option was just to wait by my car and pray that a kind Samaritan would drive by and take pity on me. Wasn’t likely, but there wasn’t any other option. If I could just get my hands on a phone, I could call Dick… I pulled my sweatshirt close to my body, praying for warmth that wasn’t going to be provided. The thin jacket was already soaked through and wasn’t doing any good protecting me from the sting of the harsh rain. At this point in my life, I was debating crawling underneath my car, that’s how miserable I was. Suddenly, I noticed headlights coming towards my car and I cried aloud in relief. Either way, this person would be my savior, whether they helped me or killed me. Excited, I ran out into the middle of the street and began to wave my arms frantically over my head, trying to flag them down. “Please stop,” I chanted quietly to myself, trying to telepathically send my message to the driver. “Please, please, please!” Sure enough, the car pulled up next to me and it took me a moment to realize that I actually recognized the sleek, modern built car. “Dick?” I questioned as my boyfriend jumped out of the car as soon as it was in park. He bounded over to me and scooped me up into his tight embrace and I was enveloped in his warmth. I was still in disbelief that he had managed to find me in this weather. “Dick, what are you doing here?” That was a stupid question, but my mind wasn’t functioning right due to being a human popsicle. My boyfriend ripped off his own jacket and pulled it over my shivering form and dragged me to the passenger side of the car. “I got nervous when you were late for dinner, especially since you’re always early.” He buckled me into the seat and then ran to his side of the car and climbed in. “I had Tim try to track your phone, but that didn’t work,” he continued, cranking up the heat and simultaneously reached into his back seat and grabbed an old blanket that we used whenever we went out for picnics and wrapped that around me. “That’s when Damian had admitted that he planted a tracker in your car once he realized your phone was dead more than half the time and your car had a habit of breaking down in the worst of places.” I snorted at that. It was true. I’ve had the car for seven years and at least once a month, it broke down on me for one reason or another. One of my favorites was when the breaks went out while on the highway…. “Good to know your family likes me,” I teased, relieved when I realized that I started gaining feeling back into my toes and fingers. Dick glared at me before focusing on the road before us. “Of course they like you, Y/N. They all know you are way too good for me, that’s for sure. I would even bet that they like you better than me!” That caused me to laugh out loud. Dick was the most likable person in the world and I couldn’t imagine anyone thinking I was better than him, but I didn’t bother to comment at this, knowing he would argue and try to imprint it into my mind that what he said was true. He could be more stubborn than Bruce sometimes. “What happened anyway?” my love questioned me, glancing at me with sparkling blue eyes for a second before focusing on the road once again. “My stupid transmission went out and when I went out to check it, my car did that thing when it automatically locks itself because it’s possessed by Satan himself,” I grumbled, leaning into Dicks warmth over the armrest and laid my head on his arm. “Then it started to rain, followed by lighting and thunder.” “Oh, babe,” Dick cooed at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as much as he could. “I’m sorry. I know how much you hate storms.” “Mmmm, not your fault that some greater power out there has it in for me.” Dick looked at me with sad eyes. “That’s not true, babe. You just have the worst luck. But, at least you have me!” We both chuckled at that and I couldn’t agree more.

—————————————

As soon as we got home, Dick ushered me into our bedroom. “Let me go start a bath for you, so you can warm up.” “Will you be joining me?” I asked coyly as he disappeared into the master bath. I could hear him fumble with the faucet for a second before there was a rush of water spurting out. Dick peaked his head out the door, winking at me, “Only to help you get warmer faster!” I stripped out of my wet clothes, tossing them into the clothes hamper next to the closet. “Think I could steal some of your clothes too?” I teased, going to our shared dresser, picking out a pair of sweatpants for myself and an old t-shirt of his that had the Bat Logo on it. He had an obsession with collecting anything related to his nighttime job. “Only if you behave!”

—————————————

Just over an hour later, we climbed out of the tub and got dressed. While I was addressing the mop of hair on my head, Dick headed downstairs to start the fire going. On his way out, he stopped at the bed and grabbed the fifty million blackness we had on there and continued down the stairs. After my hair was taken care of, I went and joined my love downstairs and was none too surprised to find him on the phone with presumably one of his brothers. “Yes, she’s fine. Just was a little cold, but that’s all taken care of now,” he said into the phone, not having heard me come down the stairs. “No, you don’t need to come over to make sure she’s still alive. I promise to have her call you tomorrow. Right now-“ I had snuck up to the back of the couch and launched myself over the back of it, landing right on top of the unsuspecting vigilante. “Whoa there!” he yelled, immediately dropping the phone and wrapping his arms around me to stop me from rolling onto the floor. I grinned up at him from his arms and he scowled at me. “That was rude,” he teased. I gave a shrug in response before grabbing his phone from the ground. Damian’s name flashed on the screen and I raised an eyebrow at Dick before putting the phone to my ear. “Hey, Damian. It’s Y/N. I promise that I am alive and well. Thank you for putting a tracker on my car. I promise to thank you by taking you out to lunch sometime soon. Now, I’m going to hang up so that I can cuddle with my boyfriend. Much love, babybat!” and with that, I hung up the phone before setting it down on the end table next to the couch. Dick was grinning at me and then placed a kiss on my forehead. “You handled that like a pro, babe,” he complimented. Snorting, I rolled my eyes. “Knowing your brothers, they will still show up later tonight to make sure things are alright.” He shrugged, “Probably, but that’s what happens when you have people that care for you.” We sat there in silence for a moment. “So, you want to cuddle or what?” I finally asked, snuggling into his muscular chest. Dick groaned appreciatively, shifting so that we were sprawled out on the couch. Then he reached over me to grab the pile of blankets that laid at our feet and pulled them over us. “You are so perfect. I love you.”

#Dick Grayson x reader #Richard grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #batfam imagine #dc imagine #fluff #dick grayson #Richard Grayson #Nightwing #batboys x reader

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thotzumaki · 6 years

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Dick Grayson Headcanons

before fans go crazy… THESE ARE ALL JUST MY OPINION

How do they feel about people shorter/taller than them? Honestly, he doesn’t care either way. He’s super laid back about it.

What are they like on social media? (What’s their username, profile pic, etc.) His username is definitely a pun about his name no doubt about it and his profile picture is goofy as hell but somehow he still looks really hot?? Like excuse you. He’s pretty active on social media whether it be posting embarrassing photos of his siblings or tagging Babs and Wally in memes.

Their sexuality? BICON. We stan a bisexual king

Preferred weather? S U N S H I N E

What’s their sleeping schedule? Dick is THAT guy. The guy who’s up for a workout at 6 am. He can function on little to no sleep (I’m jealous) Don’t get me wrong, this boy loves his sleep but he’s not Satan if he doesn’t get a solid 8 hours.

Favorite music? Unironically and unapolegetically anything that came out in the year 2008.

How’s their cooking? He’s not a bad cook by any means but Gordon Ramsey definitely roasted him on Twitter when he tweeted him a picture of the chicken parmesan he made the other night.

It’s movie night, what movie do they pick? Most of the time he’ll automatically pick a Disney classic but last movie night at the manor he chose Phantom of the Opera and may or may not have pissed Alfred off by hanging from a chandelier during the opening song.

How would they hold up in a pillow war? Right now he’s the two year reigning champion of the annual Wayne pillow fight. Three years ago Damian won. There was weaponry involved. Definitely cuts and bruises. Dick was not happy to give up his title.

What’s their sleeping position? On his stomach, flailed across the entire queen sized bed.

Who do they go to for comfort? Dick has an incredible support system, but he usually talks to Wally or Babs when he’s upset.

Something small that they enjoy? Reposting embarrassing photos of Bruce that tabloids have shared on Facebook

How do they feel about physical contact by others? Dick Grayson lives for this shit. He’s just a physically affectionate person whether it be platonic or romantic.

What is enough to bring them to tears? The No Man’s Land scene from Wonder Woman was definitely a recent one.

Biggest pet peeve? He’s super laid back so it takes a lot to get under his skin, but he can’t stand kill joys

How well do they take care of themselves? Dick is the epitome of good hygiene and self care.

What’s something they like that may be surprising to others? He’s actually super in to classic literature. He’s a pretty boy so apparently it’s strange for him to be well read.

Do they consider others family? Yes! If he cares about you, you’re family.

Any bad habits that they have? At times he’s can be a little self critical

What’s their idea of a perfect vacation? Lol what’s a vacation

Do they get lost easily? Will they ask for directions if they are? Nah. He’s gonna wing it.

The strangest thing they have ever seen? The kid grew up fighting crime with a man dressed as a bat. What ISN’T strange that he’s seen?

How well do they accept advice? He listens. It doesn’t mean that he’ll follow it to a T

How much do they swear? He tries not to in front of Damian or any of the youngsters that he’s around and he definitely doesn’t swear as much as Jason but he does. His swears more in bed than anywhere else.

How do they take advice given to them? He accepts it.

Do they like being in pictures? He likes it so much that he’s constantly photo bombing at Galas and other important events. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense for when a camera is out.

Is there anything they’re bad at? I wouldn’t say that he’s necessarily bad at this, because he’s a charming guy, but if he actually likes someone, he’s a delightfully awkward mess. Mostly he’s not able to NOT use puns.

What’s their morning schedule? Wake up, coffee, work out, shower, breakfast, kick ass.

Any past injuries? Nothing overly traumatic. When you were in the circus then go to fighting crime at such an early age, you’re bound to get banged up a little bit along the way.

Something that disgusts them? The fact that there are people in the world who don’t appreciate the humor of memes.

#dick grayson #dick grayson hc #dick grayson headcanon #batfam #batfam hc #batfam headcanon #batfamily #batfamily hc #batfamily headcanon #dc #nightwing #nightwing hc #nightwing headcanon

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cloakedsparrow · 7 years

Text

DC Ficlet: Cassandra & Tim’s clothes sharing habit.

Inspired by this headcanon by @timdraikes.

For several decades now, Wayne Manor has been kept in perfect order by Alfred Pennyworth. While his job requirements have increased from Head Butler to Head Butler plus Vigilante Tailor plus Emergency Medic plus Surrogate Father/Grandfather, he still takes a great deal of pride in keeping the manor (and its inhabitants) in tiptop condition. He has been doing such for so long that most of it, the butler aspects at least, takes very little concentration at this point. Everyday tasks such as dusting, cooking and doing laundry can be accomplished while Alfred’s mind is on more pressing tasks, such as making sure Bruce remembers Dick’s upcoming birthday or that Tim gets at least six hours of sleep that night.

At least, he normally could afford to let his concentration shift away from his chores. As of late, however, he finds that one particular duty has taken significantly more concentration. That being laundry.

It was always so simple before. He could never mistake an article of his own clothing for something of Bruce’s. The same went for Bruce and Dick or Jason. Even when his eldest two grew large enough to possibly borrow Bruce’s casual wear items, neither likely would. They had very different tastes. Even if Tim liked something of one of his older brothers’, he would never fit into them. The same went for Cassandra. Certainly, one would never confuse any of Bruce’s laundry for Tim or Cassandra’s.

Tim and Cassandra’s clothes, however, were another story.

While Cassandra was a couple inches taller than Tim, the boy had long legs for his height and he wore his shirts longer than Cassandra did. Neither ever wore over-sized clothes or anything too tight. Instead they wore fitted, functional clothing. They also weren’t prone to anything flashy or especially trendy, with the exception of superhero logo t-shirts.

The result of all these fact was that their clothing was identical in size and not all that different in style.

Add to that the ever growing bond between the adopted siblings, and the fact they often borrowed one another’s clothing wasn’t much of a surprise.

But it did make separating their laundry a challenge at times.

Alfred looked at the plain, ‘Nigtwing blue’ t-shirt for a solid five minutes, trying to place whom it belonged to.

There was an expertly mended tear near the seam on the left sleeve. Alfred only recognized it because he had stitched it himself. He had seen Tim sitting at the Batcomputer late one evening, tired but determined, and absently fidgeting with the torn sleeve. However, a few days later, he had seen Cassandra sitting in the library trying to read a selection of Emily Dickinson poems that Barbara had recommended, tired but determined, and absently fingering the extra stitching on the repaired sleeve.

Deciding that Tim would have appeared more concerned about the tear if it had been Cassandra’s shirt he’d damaged, Alfred placed the t-shirt in Tim’s basket.

Some articles of clothing were easier than others. Anything with Superboy’s logo on it was Tim’s. It didn’t matter if Cassandra was the one to find it and purchase it, she would immediately give it to Tim. Likewise, anything with a classic Batgirl symbol was Cassandra’s. Even if Tim had been the one to select it and bring it home, he would immediately hand it over to Cassandra. Both had the understanding that the other would be allowed to borrow said article of clothing in the future, but they weren’t going to deny the other something with their favorite hero’s symbol on it.

That meant that Alfred could confidently toss the classic Batgirl yoga pants into Cassandra’s basket even though he’d seen Tim wearing them last.

The Green Lantern t-shirt he folded next gave him pause.

Tim had been wearing it the other night. Alfred remembered Tim and Dick insisting that he let them do the dishes after dinner. He’d sipped his tea at the kitchen table and talked with the boys as they cleaned. Dick had indicated the t-shirt and made a comment about Bruce suspecting Tim of fraternizing with the competition.

But he’d also seen Cassandra wearing the shirt a couple days before. He’d paused to keep an eye on her after she’d answered the door for a delivery man from Wayne Enterprises. The man had attempted polite small talk and been met with a suspicious stare. Cassandra wasn’t good with small talk and so Alfred had stepped in, allowing her to slip away.

He finally placed it aside and decided he’d place in whichever pile was smaller when he was finished.

The Superboy sweater was clearly Tim’s, even if Cassandra had been wearing it the previous morning.

The Wonder Woman hoodie was the next confounding article of clothing.

Last Thursday, Tim had been wearing it while he and Cassandra trained together. The boy had taken a particularly impressive leap that lead to a very concerning fall when Cassandra had kicked him in midair. He’d landed hard, missing the training mats entirely, and had put his sister at ease by making a joke about the new hoodie apparently not giving him Wonder Woman’s ability to fly. On Monday, Cassandra had worn the hoodie when she and Tim were back to training together again. She blocked a rubber training Batarang with her arm as if the yellow sleeve was truly Diana’s bracer, teasing that it clearly took a true warrior to harness its power and earning an enthusiastic ‘nice one’ from her brother before he quickly dodged the return fire.

Alfred decided that the Hoodie was Tim’s, since it had been declared new when he wore it. Despite how frequently they borrowed each other’s things, there seemed to be a rule about not doing so until the actual owner of said article had used it first.

Socks were easier to figure out. Cassandra always wore out the heel first while Tim’s always gave at the toes. That meant the subtle Black Canary socks were Cassandra’s, since Alfred was clearly going to have to reinforce the heel. Meanwhile the red socks that had been darned at the spot the second toe generally rested were Tim’s.

Alfred had noticed Tim wearing the Aquaman sweatpants while he was running the other day, but he had stopped Cassandra from walking out the door with the size sticker still on the thigh a few days before. Because of the unspoken ‘new item’ rule, that meant they were Cassandra’s.

Surprisingly, underwear was not as simple as one would think. The sports bras were clearly Cassandra’s, but he’d taken the obvious route with the underpants before only to see the kids discreetly trade a couple pairs. Not that the kids shared underwear, but it turned out they split a package of each style after purchase. Apparently, Cassandra liked to sleep in boxers and Tim preferred boy-shorts (which Alfred learned were actually designed for females) while he was out on patrol.

The Batgirl boy-shorts were clearly Cassandra’s and Alfred took a guess that the Batman ones were hers as well, while the Robin pair were Tim’s. He also assumed the black boxers were Cassandra’s, as she seemed to prefer the color, which meant the red pair and the ones with little Flash logos were probably Tim’s.

In the end, Alfred gave the Green Lantern t-shirt to Cassandra by process of elimination and just hoped that he had a 75% accuracy rating at the least.

While such a situation might have bothered Alfred once upon a time, he found that he didn’t mind the extra effort or confusion with the laundry. It ensured his Butler skills were as sharp as his other skills that were used more commonly as of late. It also was a side effect of having the children in the house and Alfred wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

Not since Dick was a young boy had Alfred seen the Manor so lively. It brought a smile to his face to hear Tim helping Cassandra with her reading, or Cassandra showing Tim a different way to take down a larger opponent with a knife. To see them washing the dishes together or raking leaves, speaking quietly to one another or simply working side by side in comfortable silence.

Watching them with Bruce was the best thing yet. He still didn’t have the most obvious paternal skills, but neither of his kids seemed to mind. They read the pride in his stance as he watched them train or return from patrol. The felt the way he lingered when one of them was injured or potentially hurt. They heard the loving words he meant to say instead of the curt ones that actually left his mouth.

Yes, Tim and Cassandra were definitely a welcomed addition to the Manor, as far as Alfred was concerned. Even if their presence meant it took him three times as long to do the laundry.

Besides, sometimes they stopped to help when they weren’t busy. They just started folding their own clothes (mimicking Alfred’s method) while they told Alfred about their days, about what had happened on the previous nights patrol or during training. About Cassandra’s latest literary conquest or Tim’s upcoming test at school.

During those times, Alfred almost wished the chore took longer.

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