Tim's Trying To Take A Break From His Family By Staying With YJ In San Francisco And Damian Shows Up.

Tim's trying to take a break from his family by staying with YJ in San Francisco and Damian shows up.

"Father is being irritating, and benched me. So I ran away."

Tim's having a heart attack like, "AND YOU CAME HERE? MY BROTHER IN CHRIST I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU. DO I LOOK LIKE RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON?"

Damian's unflappable. "I don't see the issue. You're always saying I may visit you."

"THIS IS NOT A FUCKING VISIT-"

Tim stares at Damian eating his food and insulting his baffled teammates and lies when Bruce calls him to ask whether he'd seen Damian. "Hm? No. Why would he come to me? Dick's closer to him in Blud. Yeah, I'll keep an eye out."

Dick calls, "okay, so he's either with me or you, and I know he's not with me."

Tim's relieved, "oh my God, yeah, he's with me, come pick up your little brother before Kon gets sick of him and 'accidentally' pushes him out of the third floor window."

they should invent a type of sleeping where you wake up and feel rested

I have three modes of reading

Dont read

Read a 500 page book in a day

Read only fanfiction until my eyeballs drop out of my skull from exhaustion

i just realized my last ask was so like straight to the point and rude 😭 but happy 3 million 🤭 but like saturn | maybe like baseball!steve seeing his girl at his practice and they get shakes after idk 😭🤭

lmao no you’re good soph 🤍 baseball steve makes me dizzy

gn!reader 0.6k words

You honestly didn’t think Steve Harrington could get any hotter. That is until you saw him swinging a baseball bat around like it was a fucking sword. You practically melted on the spot.

You’re sitting in the stands with Lucas as Steve’s practice comes to a close. You’d never admit it to anyone, not even Steve himself, but you’ve practically been drooling over him the entire time. Lucas has been graciously ignoring your obvious infatuation until now.

“Y/N.” He gives your shoulder a shake. “You’re staring.”

You blink. You’d been watching Steve pack up the gear with his team, his hair all sweaty and floppy and his arms practically bursting out of his jersey sleeves. The fabric on his jersey straining as he bends to scoop up a pile of equipment.

“Wasn’t staring,” you lie through your teeth. “Just observing.”

Lucas huffs like he doesn’t believe you, but it’s all in good nature. He knows you could bring up all the times you’ve caught him staring at Max, if you wanted to.

“Whatever you say.” Lucas rolls his eyes and stands up. “M’gonna go see where Max went. See you around, lovebird.”

He shoves your shoulder and you wrinkle your nose at the nickname. He’s only been gone about ten seconds when you hear your name from the pitch.

“Y/N!”

You eyes zero in on Steve, who’s gazing up at you with a hand over his eyes to block the sun. The pitch is mostly empty. You beam and wave, clambering down the rows of seats til you reach the bottom one. Steve jogs to meet you there and scoops you up into his arms when you do, spinning you around in the air til you’re breathless and giggling.

“Steve!” You squeal, hands braced on his firm shoulders.

He laughs from his chest, a lovely, hearty sound, and sets you down on the grass. You’re both smiley as you catch your breath.

“How’d I do today, angel?” He asks, setting his hands on his hips. One of his teammates calls his name from the edge of the pitch. Steve turns and they exchange a wave and then he’s right back in your personal space.

You wrinkle your nose teasingly. He smells like sweat and grass. “I don’t know anything about baseball, Stevie,” you deadpan. “You did look quite handsome, though.”

Steve’s laugh is surprised and fond and makes your chest burn. He shrugs and his grin is staggering. “That’s good enough for me.”

You grin and push yourself up on your toes to kiss him. He meets you halfway with all the eagerness in the world, hands on your biceps and mouth greedy. He kisses you so sweetly you could cry, but with enough fervour that your stomach explodes with butterflies.

When he pulls away you’re gasping for breath. You look up at Steve and find him looking about frazzled as you feel.

“You need to take a shower,” you say, pulling a face. Anything to stop him looking at you like that.

Steve fakes hurt and rolls his eyes. “You’re such a priss,” he says with less heat than a box of ice.

You scoff and shove him in the chest. He doesn’t move an inch.

“Seriously,” you say. “You’re gross and sweaty.”

He is sweaty, but he’s far from gross. He’s hot, with his damp hair and his burly arms, grass stains on his knees and a stripe of sweat on his forehead. It’s driving you mad.

Steve huffs. “Can we at least get milkshakes first? I promised Lucas and Max I’d drive them to the diner after.”

You sigh. There he goes again, using the kids as an excuse to get what he wants. The worst part is, it works on you.

“Fine,” you say begrudgingly. Or not so much. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if Steve stayed like this forever.

question on my lips

kia ora my loves, i'm stuck with writers block on another piece and this is hopefully the cure <3 its all sweetness as usual [established relationship + fluff + 2k words] mucho mwahs as ALWAYS <3!

Steve’s in a bad mood.

Which might be very fair considering the state of the weather outside. Flurries of snow batter against the windows and a hair-raising chill leaks into the panes, painting them in condensation. It’s cold. You don’t want to be caught outside on a night like tonight.

But, somewhere across town, there’s a reservation under Steve’s name that is being wasted. At a pretty restaurant, with 2 too many forks for your taste — but Steve had insisted. Even put on a suit.

And even though Steve has told you he prefers the quieter nights in with just the two of you, he seems quite… miffed that you can’t go anymore.

Maybe not quite a bad mood but… well, it’s a hell of a pout he’s wearing.

Amber drenches the wall of the room, lit by your bedside table lamps — a cozy cocoon that feels worlds away from the blizzard coming down outside. You’re actually quite excited; there’s seldom a comfort like being in Steve’s arms when it’s cold like this. Tangled together in your bed, letting his perpetually blazing heart heat the both of you.

But… he’s still pouting. You’re both unwinding a bit, taking off what you’d managed to put on before the weather took a turn for the worse — but Steve’s stuck, hands in his pockets. He seems to be fumbling with something.

His silence worries you more. Maybe you hadn’t realised how actually upset he was that your plans were cancelled.

He had been mentioning it all week, all month actually- since he’d first made the booking. Some claim that you’d love the food and he loved any occasion to see you all dressed up and drool-worthy— (“Not that that’s not all the time, babe.”)

“Steve?” You say. His head jumps up, hands in his pockets going still. “C’mon, come to bed.”

He softens at your coaxing words. Like the very sound of them, the sweet nature of your words, melts his hardened edges. He nods, tugging off his tie and beginning to work on his belt.

In the meantime, you creep into the bed. It smells like a smattering of something sweet that you know to be Steve’s hairspray, fabric softener, and maybe what you think love might smell like if it had a scent. You sink into it lovingly. Warm. Safe.

Your eyes find him instinctively. Watching, observing, drinking in the sight of your lover soothes you like nothing else. Love spools messily in your chest, like a knotted ball of yarn strewn through your ribs. It aches sweetly. Steve catches you as he’s pulling a pair of sweatpants up his calf.

“You’re staring,” He states plainly, but he’s smiling a bit, lips turned up in the corners. He jumps, hiking his pants up over his hips, and wanders closer.

You nod, hair scrunching against the pillow. Your voice comes out a bit muffled when you speak. “That a crime?”

Steve grins this time. He pushes the covers back, kneeling on the mattress beside you — pausing to push back the hair covering your eyes. He smiles down at you, eyes fond. “If it is, lock me up, baby.”

He pauses, thumb drifting over cheekbone lightly. “I could look at ya all day.”

Something delightful purrs behind your ribs, warm and all-encompassing. Where you would’ve once hidden your face away, this time you just let your glee wash over your face — and let Steve see every second of it. You’re happy. Steve makes you happy.

Steve gives an awed exhale and flops, bouncing down on the mattress beside you. He works the duvet around, bundling up as best he can before his hands begin to search for you. Traversing across the sheets, seeking, til they meet skin. He hums happily. Pulls you into his chest and lets you figure out how you want to wrap around him, like unkempt ivy. He’s warm, as always.

You’re not even trying to sleep yet, either of you, just having a moment huddled up in each other's embrace. The wind whirls loudly outside. You wonder what you’d be doing if your plans had gone through.

“M’sorry,” you say into his chest. It rises and falls with his breath, soothing and constant. “That we couldn’t do dinner. Y’seemed really excited.”

Steve makes a little noise, saying that he agrees. For a moment, your words hang in the air and then he clears his throat, pulling you closer.

“S’okay, not like you can control the weather.” He murmurs his reply. He pulls back to peer down at you with suspicious eyes, a tease on his tongue. “Can you? Because as your boyfriend, I should totally know that, and considering what we’ve seen—“

“Shut up,” you giggle. You poke him in the ribs because you can’t think of a good jibe back.

“Shutting up,” Steve says, before snuggling back closer. There’s another moment of quiet. The window rattles in the absence of words. Steve sighs.

“Just…” He starts. You can already tell he’s got his thinking face on, a little furrow between his brows. “Had some good plans for tonight, is all. Not a big deal.”

“A plan within a plan,” you muse thoughtfully. Steve chuckles. “How layered this night could of been!”

“And instead, you just have to have this, huh?” Steve murmurs, dejection creeping into his voice. Your heart twists. He must’ve planned a lot just to watch it go down the drain.

You pull back from his embrace and catch his eyes, searching his face. Disappointment lingers in his expression and it pushes a pout onto your lips.

“Well, is there anything we can do? That was like your plans?” You ask.

Steve breaks into a grin, giving a chuckle — but a glint in his eyes says he’s grinning for another reason. He stares at you lovingly, eyes dragging up and down your face as he seemingly thinks of his answer. He shakes his head.

“Nuh uh. Nothing we can do tonight.” He says, a tad forlorn. His hand on your back sketches a soft stroke up your spine. You shiver in a good way and Steve speaks again, eyes searching somewhere behind you, imagining something. “Well, not— not the way I want to do this.”

There’s a long pause. At the same moment a soft realisation blooms in your chest and on your face, Steve seems to realise he’s said too much. His eyes widen, the apples of his cheeks turning scarlet.

“Were you gonna—?”

You push back from him, suddenly sitting up in the bed. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, risking bruising the inside of your ribs with each resounding thud. You don’t even mind because… because…

Steve sits up too, wide-eyed expression still on his face. He looks flushed, taken off guard — he clearly hadn’t meant to tell you today. Well, he had meant to tell you today but he wanted to ask you at dinner, on one knee, and then the storm—

“You were gonna ask?” You squeak. A smile wobbles on your face as you try to rein in your reaction, even as joy floods every nerve. “Tonight?”

Steve seems unsure of the right way to answer. “Yes,” He stammers. Then crushes his eyes closed, dropping his eyes closed to curse. “Shit, I wasn’t supposed— I had it all planned! This isn’t—“

Steve pushes his palms into his eyes for a moment, dragging his hands down his face. You feel a pang of remorse for ruining your own surprise but it’s completely overshadowed by the rampant happiness. You can’t help yourself for what you say next.

“Yes.”

Steve blinks. “What?” A grin grows on his face, like your own is contagious even as he shakes his head. “I haven’t even asked you yet!”

He’s laughing, a glorious sound, and so are you. You're so full of love you feel stuffed like you’ve just eaten, it fills every crevice of your body. You nod. You think your teeth might be aching with how sweet the boy before you is— pouting and giving away his own surprises.

“I know,” you breathe. “But if- when you do, it’s a yes.”

And you’ve known it before. You have known it long before tonight that yours and Steve’s futures are knitted together so intricately that where one goes, the other follows. Still, knowing it and saying it— the difference steals your breath. You feel like a teenage fool again, back to the first time Steve ever asked you, ‘Be mine?’

Steve sinks into the pillows, deflating into them with a blinding grin. Like he hadn’t been sure up until right then. He giggles. Another awed sound, like he can’t quite believe what’s happening.

“Okay,” he breathes. You sink down too, curling up into him. His warmth feels burning hot now as he pulls you back into his arms, the same as he had a minute ago; this time, you swear your hearts are an inch closer.

“I gotta come up with a whole new plan now, don’t I?” Steve asks, eyes shining as he peers down at you.

You laugh a little bit, delirious, and shake your head. Gathering courage, even as your stomach twists up in the best way.

“Nope. You can… you can ask now, if you really want.”

You hope your voice betrays everything you mean; that he could ask anywhere and you would say still say yes. That it didn’t need to be somewhere fancy, didn’t need to be a big spectacle, he didn’t even need to get on one knee and you would still say yes.

Steve stares down at you, drinking in the sincerity of your expression and he softens impossibly more. Smile lines you adore get scrunched up as he gives a shuddering breathy laugh, punched out of him by his own enormous affection. Christ, he loves you.

His hand raises, cupping your jaw sweetly and he tugs you closer to meet him in the middle. You come home to him, lips meeting lips as he kisses you deeply and maddeningly. There are a thousand sentiments in his kiss, I want to marry you and I love you among them.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against your own. His hand on your jaw rubs soothing, fingers tucking some stray hair behind your ear.

“Got a plan.” He murmurs, a wickedly handsome smile on his face as he taps his temple.

You’ll have to wait, it seems. You think you can stretch your patience a little longer, especially for this. Your cheeks are beginning to ache from your smile.

Another quiet moment. Then, your eyes light up with the recollection of an earlier memory. They skirt across the room and land on their target, Steve’s crumpled pair of slacks on the ground. You recall his fumbling with his hand deep in his pocket.

Steve follows your eye-line and the moment he spots what you’re looking his head whips back.

Steve fixes you with a stern look, a warning that says don’t. You move an inch, more to tease than anything — you don’t want to see anything til he’s the one giving it to you — but you don’t get very far anyway.

“Oh no, you don’t—” Steve’s arms around your middle tighten, pulling you closer as you pretend to reach off into the distance.

He shifts you easily, setting you down into the pillows and then squishing himself atop you. You let out a strange noise, a surprised yelp as Steve lightly crushes you beneath him, a slightly maniacal grin on his pretty mouth. His hair is a mess, cheeks still glowing, and he looks utterly in love.

You wiggle a bit, seeing if you can free a limb. Maybe to pretend to escape, maybe to dig your fingers in and hold him closer. Either way, it’s fruitless.

Somehow, you’re not all the mad with the situation; squished lovingly beneath your hunk of a boyfriend so you don’t go scampering around searching for a- for your engagement ring.

“Can I at least get a kiss?” You ask, knowing he’ll say yes. If there’s one thing, it’s that Steve never denies you a kiss if you ask. His eyes look a tad misty as he looks down at you so so fondly, eyes drawing down to your lips.

He doesn’t disappoint.

[call me by blondie playing] THE STEVE HARRINGTON BABYSITTING SERVICE