timothy jackson drake wayne

Tim Drake x Reader - Soulmate AU

AU: Whatever you write on your arm/body shows up on your soulmate’s in the same place and in your handwriting. The writing doesn’t show up, however, until you and your soulmate meet.

Requested: Anon

Word Count: 2044

Tagging: @memento-scribet @avengerdragoness @cait-writes-stuff @solis200213 @damian-is-a-kitten @king-wolfie @the-singing-canary @addicted-to-dc @angstytodd @nightwingdiva @colormemeow @maruthor


You doodled, a lot. All the time in fact. You carried a pen everywhere, always drawing spirals and flowers, lines and words all over your wrist, hand, and arms. You had always been told not to, that is may bother your “Soulmate” but those were rare now a day. “Soulmates” were common when your grandmother was a child, but they had become less and less common, to the point where if you had one, you were a rare exception. Your parents were lucky, and they were soulmates, convinced you would have one as well, but you, not so much.

You thought the idea was amazing, and yeah, it would be awesome, but you didn’t believe you had a soulmate, so every time your parents told you to stop drawing on your arms in pen, as to not give your soulmate ink poisoning, you ignored them, thinking how on earth could you have a soulmate? Until the last day of school.

You were walking down the hall, towards the door, when all the sudden your feet were swept from under you. You fell to the floor, backpack falling as well, and everything spilling out and onto the ground. You looked up to find the star baseball pitcher and a couple of cheerleaders all standing over you, glaring at your scattered things and fallen figure.

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Shattered Heart

Request: Yes, For the prompt, could you do 1,5,8 and 11 with Tim Drake?

Pairing: Tim Drake X Reader

Prompt: 1: “I don’t want to stop loving you.” 5: “I didn’t want it to end, I just thought you’d be better off without me.” 8: “You hide it in jokes and sarcasm, but I can see how broken you are.” 11: “Please..don’t leave.”

Warning: Self-harm and Angst 

Tags: @rebecca-x4 , @solis200213 , @ti0261 , @colormemeow , @overunderjustwhelmed , @epickimmie , @gokusanfan , @yj-tt-batfam-forlife , @gracesnowstorm , @blxkestnight , @batarangtotheheart , @angstytodd , @abiitheawkward , @batfamily-imagines , @dc-imagine-central , @pinkwitch21, @mintymacaronrain , @starshipofgotham , @tim-help , @avengerdragoness, @senpai-gabby , @just-a-girl-maybe , @schninner-writes-some-stuff , @books-netflix-and-pizza , @memento-scribet , @speedypan 

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, Tim Drake, Robin, Red Robin whoever he was he shattered your heart into pieces. He used the “my superhero work can put you in danger” break up. Ever since you were never the same and you never wanted to see him again. Every picture you found that had you both were broken and shattered since you would throw it out of anger. Sometimes you wouldn’t bother to clean up the shattered glass which caused you to get scars. But you didn’t mind, you loved watching the sharp glass cut through your wrist soothingly and as blood dripped from the fresh cut. You did it again and again until you saw nothing but black.

“Will she be alright, doctor.” You hear a voice ask as you opened your eyes. You could see everything faintly yet you knew you were in a hospital. Again. You looked at your wrist to find it patched up and a little sore. Everything was sore actually and you wanted to know who the person was. He sounded extremely familiar.

“Yes, she will be fine. Were you aware of this, about her suicidal attempts?” The doctor asks.

“No….”The other person replies sadly as you try to squint your eyes so they can focus on him. Finally, as the blurred image disappeared and you could see him, Tim. He looked so concerned and worried as he put his hand on his neck. Tim was the one who took you here, he wanted to go visit you to talk but found you unconscious instead. He was so shocked and worried so he drove you straight to the hospital. 

“Well, she has a record in this hospital for suicidal attempts. I keep advising her to see a psychologist but she won’t oblige.” The doctor says as he looks at you awake. “You’re awake I see.” He takes your wounded wrist so he can see causing you to hiss. He examined it closely and slowly. 

“It’s the same wrist as last time.” He says looking at you but you weren’t looking back at him instead, you were glaring at Tim. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He says last as he leaves the room.

“[F/N]….” Tim says your name and you couldn’t remember how it sounded. it used to sound cheerful but this time it sounded dreary 

“Oh so now you are here.”

“Please [F/N]-”

“No Tim there is no such thing as please! You left me and shattered my heart! You didn’t see how broken I was ever since and you never checked up on me! You stopped loving me and left me…”

“I..I didn’t want it to end, I just thought you’d be better off without me. And I don’t want to stop loving you, I never wanted to stop loving you.” 

“Then you would have seen how broken I was!”

You hide it in jokes and sarcasm, but I can see how broken you are.”

“Then why..? Why didn’t you come back?” 

“…..”  Tim was speechless because he didn’t have an answer.

It was time for you to leave the hospital and the doctor made it an order to see a psychologist however, you didn’t and went home. You were so mad at Tim and wanted to go home to cut yourself some more, it was the only satisfaction you could receive. As you entered you found Tim but in his Red Robin costume. 

“What do you want?” You ask rudely.

“I wanted to apologize.” 

“It’s too late Tim besides I know you are happier with Stephanie, right?” You look at him with hate and loathe.

“No [F/N] it’s not that. It  never was like that.” 

“If only I could believe you.” You say as you try to leave your apartment.

Please..don’t leave.” Tim begs as you turn the doorknob.

“I’m sorry Tim.” 

Tim Drake x Reader - Scars

Prompts: 10 - “my life will never be the same”     31 - “Don’t hurt her, hurt me”


Song: Breathe me - Sia

You sat on the bed you shared with Tim, every night, in the empty and lonely apartment. Staring into the mirror that stood across from you, and looking over all the aspects of yourself, your brain broke down. Your mind felt foggy, different. Your head was full of negative thoughts, and reasons to do something you knew you would regret. A voice whispered in your ears, and altered your thoughts, telling you, “It will be quick” “You need it” “Stop fighting”. Then there was laughter, cruel and terrifying. It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore the voice, and you ended up pulling at your hair, silently screaming for it to go away, to stop controlling you.

It, however, didn’t seem to want to do so and got louder, more convincing, stronger. You had no chance, but you fought. You fought until you were a sweaty, heavy breathing mess, with tear stains down her face, and very smudged mascara. Your hands shook, and your mind buzzed. You couldn’t feel your arms move, as well as your legs when they subconsciously carried you to the bathroom. Your vision was blurred, and it was as if your mind had a plan of its own.

You opened the floorboard and grabbed a razor. You had never done this before, but lately, you craved it, your soul begged for it, and you fell into the thoughts of just giving in. You didn’t want to, not even close, but you couldn’t fight it anymore, and it just seemed so wrong, yet so right. You thought to yourself, “Goddamnit, my life will never be the same after this…”, but you couldn’t stop yourself, you were too far along. You had no clue how everything happened, it just kind of did. One second you were a crying mess with a razor in her hands, and clean arms, and the next, the razor was in the sink, covered in blood, and haunting you. You looked down at your now sliced arms and cried even more. Why couldn't you control it? You always had control over the voices in your head. Why was now different? Why did you give in?

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  • Kon: ??Me?? Obsessed with Tim? Pffft, no, wtf, who in their right mind would be obsessed with Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne the Red Robin son of Jack Drake and Janet Drake born on July 19 1997 super smart with a <i>great ass</i> the rightful leader of our team like wtf why are you asking me this stop accusing me wh-
  • Bart, who has accused Kon of literally nothing and hasn't spoken to him at all: uh

AN- For Anon…I hope you like it:)

(This didn’t come out as good as I hoped and I am so sorry!!)

“Did you want chocolate chips or strawberries on your- Tim!”

“Hold still, Y/N, the lighting is perfect.”

You held up a hand, covering the lens as you laughed lightheartedly. He looked up from the viewfinder with a pout on his face. “Y/N, careful. You’re going to leave fingerprints all over th-“

“Tim, I swear to heaven above, if you take another picture I will push you out the window.”

You removed your hand, quickly going back to the black, Star Wars themed waffle iron that was flashing a red light slowly. You turned the heavy cast grid over, slowly opening the top revealing the beautifully made waffles. You smiled at the sweet smell before casting a glance at Tim who quickly lowered his camera when he saw you looking.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you continued making your breakfast, artistically adding toppings to your waffle. A shutter sounded, so soft that you would have missed it if it weren’t so quiet. You turned towards Tim who swiftly lowered the camera with a sheepish smile.

“I saw that Tim!” you exclaimed, looking down for a second and grabbing the first thing your hand came in contact to. With more force than necessary, you threw the object in your hand, catching your boyfriend off guard.

Tim let out a sound of disgust as the albumen of the uncooked egg dripped down his face. He looked at you fiercely for a few seconds before smirking mischievously. He lifted his camera from his neck and placed it gingerly on the counter, a safe distance from the brewing war. Using the tips of his fingers, he scooped what was left of the egg off his face and pretended to examine it for a few seconds. You watched him suspiciously, your mouth slightly open in a frozen laugh.

“It was just a picture…” he said in a monotone. Suddenly he flicked his hand, the motion of it making the egg remains slip off his fingers and onto your face, some of it making its way into your mouth. You shrieked in surprise, your hands instantly flying to your face and wiping at your tongue.

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne!” you shouted, “You’re so going to pay for that!” You grabbed the chocolate syrup that sat on the counter and squeezed it, aiming your assault with little precision and getting it all over Tim’s face and clothes.

“Y/N, my camera!” he exclaimed.

“To hell with your camera Drake! Revenge has a high price!”

You released your grip on the bottle, allowing Tim a second to breathe. He looked at you, his hair matted down and his skin painted with chocolate. Syrup dripped onto his shirt, staining a path wherever it went.

“You’re a freaking model! You have your picture taken every day!” he reasoned.

“Yeah but I’m usually ready. I’m not even dressed! My hair isn’t brushed and I don’t have any makeup on.”

He spit out a bit of chocolate but smiled sweetly, “That’s kind of the reason why I’m trying to get your picture.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at his words. Despite your smile you squeezed the bottle again, making the dark colored syrup shot out at Tim once again. “Y/N!”

“Justice never stops, not even for you baby.”

To your luck, the stream of syrup stopped, spurts of chocolate laced with air coming out instead. You looked at the bottle, feeling the emptiness and sighing before dropping it back onto the counter. You looked at your boyfriend who stared back at you knowingly. It took a few seconds but you caught the silent message in your eyes. With a yelp, you turned to run away but Tim grabbed you from behind tightly.

“Tim don’t do it,” you warned. He hummed thoughtfully, not responding for a moment. “Tim, no. Don’t do it,” you repeated.

“I’m gonna do it.”

To prove his statement, he grabbed a can of whipped cream from the kitchen counter and sprayed it all over your front. You squealed, squirming in his grasp, desperately trying to break free.

“Viva la revulacion,” he told you. He let you go, stepping back but never letting go of the now empty can of whipped cream. You turned, wiping your eyes and swallowing what had gotten in your mouth.

“You didn’t even pronounce that right,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

You looked up at your boyfriend and huffed, stalking over to the counter and grabbing the bowl of freshly cut strawberries. “I said its payback time,” you said before getting a handful of strawberries at throwing them at his face.

Tim mimicked your actions, dropping the whipped cream can and grabbing a bowl of blueberries after recuperating from the strawberry attack. “You’re no match for Timbotron,” he said in a menacing tone.

The two of you used whatever you could get your hands on: milk, butter, cream cheese, peanut butter, caramel, even coffee beans, much to Tim’s distress. The small war only stopped when Tim slipped on some of the melting butter and pulled you to the ground with him, him somehow ending on top of you. Even then, Tim had used your guy’s position to his advantage. He wiped what was on his clothes and smeared it all over you face.

“I see I have met my match,” Tim said from his position above you. He let out a tired breath and let his head rest on your chest, both of you breathing semi-heavily. You giggled, running a hand though his hair covered in chocolate and peanut butter.

“You smell like desert buffet,” you told him.

“You’re no better,” he hummed. With a laugh, you pushed him up. “Im going to go take a shower.”

“Yeah me to. You know…they say we’re in the middle of a drought. Help save water and shower with me,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. You laughed, patting his chest, “If anything, we’d waste more water showering together than separately.”

“You’re right. Well then, how about we skip the shower and I can lick you clean?”

“First of all, you are a terrible flirt. Secondly, I want to know where the sudden burst of confidence is coming from.”

He leaned towards you, “I don’t know…something about you covered in whipped cream makes my head spin. The thought of licking it off does sound so appealing.”

You hummed, closing the distance between the two of you. “I was thinking the same thing about you,” you told him before pressing your lips to his. You could tell he was trying to heat up the kiss, make you yearn for his touch the same way he yearned for yours. The thought made your heart race.

You pulled away. “Get your camera and meet me in the room. I have an idea.”

He looked at you with a glint in his eyes before obeying your wishes. “Does it involve the camera?” he asked.

You stood up with him, teasingly pressing yourself against him as you ran a hand down from his neck to his chest. “You’ll have to wait and see, wont you?”

Tim Drake x Reader - Sweater Weather Pt. 1

Requested by: Anon

Song: “Sweater Weather” - by The Neighborhood

Word Count: 1319

Tagging: @solis200213 @angstytodd


It was a cold and humid day, the clouds could never be more dark gray. The air in the atmosphere was dense, and the temperature was a cool and chilling 40 degrees. Lucky for you, you had only packed shorts, and the plan was to go to the beach today, so this was going to be, interesting, to say the least.

The wind whipped at your bare legs as you walked through the back door of the beach house, stinging the skin. Tim had taken you on a vacation this week, and the two of you went to a convention for video games yesterday and were now relaxing in the house on the beach he had rented for your week.

You walked out the sliding glass door to the beach, Tim following behind you. You ignored the sting in your legs as you walked down the stairs, following the pathway to the cool sand and freezing ocean. You had worn a sweater to keep your torso and arms warm, luckily you had at least brought that. A pair of converse covered your feet, and your hair was windblown and tangled from the ocean breeze.

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anonymous asked:


He is on my radar yes (something about coffee???). What should I be reading to know more about him? Also I’m 100% sure the entire bat family is bad at looking after themselves except for Alfred. At this point Alfred can do no wrong because of how much shit he has to do like…. Fuck me. Ahaha I adore Alfred.

TimKon Week- Day One

Title: Call Me

Summary: He told Tim from day one to just call him and he’d be there…

Rating: T for uncomfortable situations

Pairings: TimKon

I know I’m a day late… I’ll try to get Day Two posted up today too

To say that Tim is in way over his head would be the understatement of the century. He’s going to get an earful about this when Bruce gets back with Dick and Damian.

He probably shouldn’t have tried to take own the gang on his own. No, scratch that; he definitely shouldn’t have tried to take down the gang on his own. But he’d been tracing leads for months, working his ass off to discover even one of their movements, to figure out where the hell they were getting military weapons from and why the gang would put them on the streets

So when he’d finally discovered that tiny little gap in their almost traceless movements, finally getting just half a step ahead, it hadn’t really occurred to the frustrated teen to call in any kind of backup. After all, Bruce, Dick and Damian were in Hong Kong, and if he waited for them to get back, the lead would be gone, and he’d be back at square one. Making the only option to recklessly jump into the mess.

Which leaves Tim where he is now: kneeling in the middle of a warehouse with his arms above his head and at least forty semi-automatic guns pointed at him from all sides. A hundred percent trapped.

God, he’s so stupid…

“Looks like we’ve trapped a little bird, haven’t we?” Their leader, who is apparently only known as Chief, steps forward crouching down in front of the captured hero. “I’m honestly impressed, Red Robin… Nobody’s ever come this close to catching me before… How does it feel to have me slip through your fingers yet again?”

Tim scowls but holds still. He’s reckless, not stupid. He should’ve thought this through… “Night’s still young. How do you know that my backup isn’t coming?”

“Because I know full well that anyone else who works for Batman is at least three hours away from the city. And that’s too far away to reach you in time.” Chief gets up and punches Tim hard across the face. Those brass knuckles are sure to leave a bruise.

“You hit like a girl,” the vigilante snaps, pushing himself back up.

“Do I, now?” The gangster snaps his fingers, and two of his men fall out of the circle. “Strip him and tie him up. The rest of you: get ready to leave! We have half an hour!”

And just like that, all the thugs vanish, and Tim only has three weapons pointed at him: two semis and Chief’s pistol. He’d try to fight his way out, but considering how his left eye is already beginning to swell up, it probably isn’t smart. Of course, neither is letting the two men approaching him take off all his armor and weapons…

One of the oncoming men produces a wicked looking knife, kneeling behind Tim and beginning to cut away his clothing. It slices through his Kevlar like butter and leaves the shallowest of cuts on his spine.

“Leave him modestly covered,” Chief orders, tone bored. “And don’t take off that cowl. I’ll do that myself.”

Well shit.

Tim’s left in briefs on the cold warehouse floor, barely covered by his cape and cowl. The thugs drag him backwards towards a metal pole stretching from floor to ceiling and force him back to his knees, his shins on either side of the pole. One holds a gun to his forehead while the other moves behind him.

He can hear some sort of metal clanking behind him before handcuffs click closed around a wrist and the opposing ankle- did they really have to take his shoes? It puts an uncomfortable strain on his shoulder, and the next one will make it hurt to move at all, make it impossible to break loose…

It’s now or never, and Tim makes his move. Just as the next cuff clicks around his left wrist, he jerks his hand away and throws his right foot up to kick the man before him between the legs. The weapon drops to the floor as the thug collapses, and he’s about to move back to take care of the other lackey when there’s a gunshot and pain shoots up his free arm.

He gasps and presses that arm to his chest, knowing that there’s for sure a bullet lodged in his forearm. Blood begins to trickle down his bare chest, and Chief snaps another order, storming forward with a smoking gun in hand.

Tim’s bad arm is yanked back behind the pole and cuffed to his ankle. Both sets of handcuffs are painfully tight, and it’s beyond uncomfortable to stay kneeling on the hard floor without any sort of padding. He’s completely exposed, his chest pushed outward as his body tries to compensate for the awkward position of his arms.

“Leave us,” Chief mutters, and then the other thug is gone, leaving Tim alone with a furious man who probably hates him by now.

He definitely should’ve stayed home today…

“For someone smart enough to find me, you really are quite stupid.” Those brass knuckles collide with his chest, and Tim hears and feels a rib snap, emitting a soft moan. He can’t even double over to protect himself against the barrage that comes next, grunting softly every time he’s hit. Face, chest, stomach…

Finally, the fists stop, and Tim can catch a wheezing breath, eyes clenched shut against the pain. He’s going to have a hell of a time patching this up by himself…

Chief laughs, and Tim can hear him taking off the probably bloody brass weapons. “Now… let’s see who’s under that mask, shall we?”

“No…” It’s little more than a whisper, but Tim starts tossing his head from side to side, as if that’ll deter the man before him from revealing his identity.

A strong hand wraps around the teen’s throat, making him choke and hold still. Warm fingers slide under the edge of the cowl, pulling it back and yanking the cape off as it leaves. Tim shudders as his bare back is pressed against the frigid metal behind him, still struggling for breath.

“Open your eyes, kid.” The hand bites harder into his neck and Tim groans and forces his eyes open. Bruce is going to kill him…

Chief suddenly stops choking him, looking down on the hero before him. And then he laughs, pushing in on the bruise by Tim’s eye to make the young man hiss. “I don’t believe it… Timothy Jackson Drake. Little orphan boy and richie rich extraordinaire, heir to Wayne Enterprises… You’re a vigilante?”

Tim glares up at the gangster before him and snarls out, “Don’t sound so surprised. It’s okay to be jealous; not everybody is smart enough to get a college degree and earn themselves a real living.”

That earns him a steel-toed boot to the ribs, and he lets out a whimper like a wounded dog as the pain makes bile crawl up his tongue.

“It’s just so disappointing that I can’t do anything fun with this… Exposing the identity of a vigilante would cause a hell of a fuss, and then I could do anything with you… Ransom you off; see if I could sell you to some human traffickers… Bet lots of people would pay big bucks to have a celebrity be their personal slave… It’s a shame that I can’t risk my secrets getting out.”

Tim’s eyes narrow as he watches Chief walk away and open a crate across the room. Curiosity bubbles up inside of him as the man removes something, and then panic crawls up Tim’s throat and chokes up when he sees what’s being brought towards him.

It’s a bomb. A really, really big bomb, with five minutes frozen on the clock. Chief sets it down a mere six feet away from Tim, grinning at the trapped vigilante over the top.

“Don’t worry, Timmy. I’m sure Bruce can be Batman without you.”

And then the timer starts counting down, and Chief sprints from the warehouse, taking the entirety of Tim’s costume with him.

Almost instantly, Tim begins a frantic struggle, all sense of pain vanished in his panic. The handcuffs won’t budge, only bruise him further, and they have no give. Even if he could break free, Tim’s never seen this kind of bomb before, couldn’t diffuse it in the time frame even with his tools, and definitely can’t do shit tied up without his suit. He has no communicator, no one to call; nobody who can get to him in five minutes.

He’s not ready to die… He has so much left to do… He intended to get a master’s degree in computer engineering, wanted to show Bruce his plans for Wayne Enterprises, introduce his plan for a teen’s shelter downtown. He never took Dick up on his offer for a brother’s night out, never got Jason back for the time the elder shoved snow down his suit on patrol. Hell, he’s never gotten drunk, isn’t even old enough to legally drink, he’s never gone to the beach for anything that wasn’t a mission, he’s never even gotten close to having sex, hasn’t told his best friend and boyfriend of two weeks that he loves him.

His newly-titled boyfriend and best friend, who told him from day one to just call his name and he’d be there…

“Kon!” It barely comes out as more than a whisper, and Tim knows he’s going to have to do better than that for the clone to hear him. He clears his throat, coughs a few times, and ignores the burning pain as he sucks in a deeper breath. “Kon! Kon-El! Help! Please, help me!” There’s no response, and ice cold terror starts to settle in. “Kon! Kon, please! There’s a bomb, and I can’t get away from it! I need your help! There’s only-”

And then Tim makes the mistake of glancing over at the timer, and suddenly, he can’t breathe at all.




He’s wasted three minutes panicking… “O-oh my God… There’s… There’s only two minutes left!”

If Kon isn’t already on his way, he’ll never get there in time. Oh God, is he off world too? Tears start to roll down Tim’s cheeks, panic eating away at his chest. He’s going to die like this, naked and alone in a warehouse he shouldn’t have gone to… Just like Jason…

“Kon please! KON! O-oh shit, I… I don’t want to die like this! KON!”

Tim’s dizzy and lightheaded from all the yelling, panicking and starting to sob. How could he be so stupid!? He should’ve known they would overpower him, should’ve given into that want in the back of his head to just call Kon and have a night in, should’ve called for backup or called the cops in, should’ve, could’ve… didn’t…

And now the clock is only at thirty-two… thirty-one…

“KON! KON PLEASE!!” It feels like his throat is bleeding, and it gives out before he can scream again. Tears blind him as he watches those damning red numbers continue to count down. He throws himself forward, hears more than feels the muscles in his shoulder tear, gasps for breath and sobs loudly.

He’s going to waste the last ten seconds of his life crying like a baby, praying that Kon just doesn’t show up at all, instead of arriving seconds late to find what’s left of his corpse.




Tim feels like he’s going to throw up and clenches his eyes shut. All at once, the bomb starts beeping at a fever pitch, and there’s a clanging metal noise, and he can feel himself being swept away, feel his wrists and ankles seeming to tear apart at the seams as he’s thrown into the air by the bomb-

And then he hears the explosion go off behind him, not as deafening as he would’ve expected, and he braces himself for the agony that will be the last thing he feels-

“Tim! Tim, Tim, holy fuck, Tim; are you okay, oh my God!”

He’s being crushed by warm, solid arms, heavy breathing surrounding him as big, strong fingers search for his pulse. Realization hits him like a semi-truck.

It’s Kon. He made it, just barely in time.

Tim opens the eye that isn’t swollen shut by now to see worried, piercing blue orbs staring back at him, his worried best/boyfriend staring down at him. One of those massive hands cups his cheek, feather light and shaking.


And then he breaks down, digging his fingers into Kon’s shirt and wailing. His entire body hurts, his right arm is on fire, all the way up and down, he can’t breathe enough, but he’s alive and nothing else matters right now.

Kon touches down on what must be a rooftop and shifts Tim in his lap, cuddling the other teen close and letting him cry. Tim doesn’t pull back until Kon’s lips are on his cheek, his quiet, soothing voice asking him how to bypass the security on his apartment window.

Tim doesn’t even realize that he said anything to Kon until he’s being gently laid down on his bed and a fuzzy, warm blanket is enveloping him. He opens his eye to see Kon fly out of the room, returning moments later with a warm washcloth and a medical kit.

Kon’s TTK gently pets at Tim’s hair and closes his eye, rubs his back like a miracle massage as Kon’s hands work to bandage up all of Tim’s injuries. Tim barely feels any of it, exhausted and already most of the way asleep as Kon reports a broken wrist, five broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, that bullet wound- luckily shallow,- and heavily bruised wrist and ankle.

Tim couldn’t care less. He’s alive, his beating heart no longer painful in the near-death situation. He hears Kon moving around, then feels those warm hands touch his cheek.

“Tim? Do you need anything else?”

Tim glances up at his boyfriend and manages a pained smile. The hand that hurts the least reaches out and tangles in Kon’s shirt. “Just you…” His voice is little more than a raspy whisper coming from his abused throat, but he knows Kon can hear him.

It’s confirmed as Kon gives a little grin and crawls into bed beside the beaten teen, wrapping his warm arms gingerly around the smaller. His fingers run soothingly through Tim’s hair, close to lulling the other to sleep before-

“I love you, Kon… So much…”

There’s a long pause, and Tim’s heart skips a beat, but then Kon’s lips press against his forehead as the clone mumbles, “I love you too, Tim. I’m so glad you’re okay…”

With that, Tim falls asleep in his lover’s arms, making mental plans to get to a beach as soon as possible.

anonymous asked:

Prompts? We'll I'm not sure if this counts but I read your loopy!tim headcanons and absolutely loved them right away. But I mean all your hc's are golden tbh. The one where Tim gets pouty after being scolded for doing something a loopy teen definitely shouldn't be doing made me smile and I just imagine he collapses on the flour into a puddle a frowns and sprawled out limbs with the occasional mumbled whine when someone walks by. Mind continuing this hc or any loopy Tim hc's? They're too cute. <3

im so glad you like my hcs!! so here’s some more loopy!Tim hcs for you 💜

¤ when he’s lying on the floor, he’ll try to trip anyone who’s walking past by grabbing at their ankles (except for Alfred’s bc Alfred is nice to him)

¤ “Help me to the couch.” “Tim you have two legs that work perfectly fine. Stop moping and get up yourself.” [high pitched] “Everyone is so mean to me.”

¤ very easily distracted and his siblings get a lot of enjoyment of making him go suddenly off tangent only for him to pause a moment later and; “Wait, what was I saying?”

¤ reverts back to horrible 90s slang

¤ walks around aimlessly, sometimes pausing to stare at something like a wall with vivid interest, keeps commentary running the whole time

¤ teaches Cass horrible 90s slang bc he’s terrible

¤ asks Bruce really weird/deep questions and is always smug when Bruce doesn’t have an answer and Bruce is ?? so annoyed ??

¤ orders take-out to be delivered but always orders excessive amounts and everyone’s like “Tim we can’t eat all this this is insane.” “You can’t eat it all, but I can. Just watch me.” “We’re not gonna watch you give yourself a heart attack or diabetes Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”

¤ do you know how many times they bring out his full name during these times

¤ so many times like Tim keeps a tally


                                Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. CEO of WE.

                         Photographer. Cool Nerd. Batman & Robin Enthusiast. 

                                                  // FC Ryan Potter //

                                                  insta. aesthetic 1/?