#red Robin x Reader

[rottenfyre]

For SpiderGirl Y/N, how would they react to her being injured or dead. I wanna see them suffer. Only if you are ok with it. Love all your stuff, btw.

If you being injured:

The mission had been brutal, the enemy relentless, and the stakes higher than ever. But somehow, they made it through. Barely. And now, there you were—injured but alive, laying on the med bay table like the biggest diva Gotham had ever seen.

“Oh, God, I’m dying,” you groaned, clutching your side dramatically. Your hand was caked in blood, but it was far from life-threatening. Still, that didn’t stop you from milking it for all it was worth.

“You’re not dying, Y/N,” Dick said, crouching beside you with a worried expression. “The wound isn’t even that deep.”

You shot him a glare, your lips curling into a pout. “Easy for you to say, Golden Boy. You’re not the one bleeding out.”

Jason snorted from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s got a scratch, and now she thinks she’s in a soap opera.”

“Shut up, Jason,” you snapped, though the bite was lessened by your theatrics. “I’m injured! I could have bled out on the battlefield. The least you could do is pretend to care.”

Jason rolled his eyes but walked over anyway, leaning down to inspect the wound. “You’re fine, princess,” he said with a smirk, ruffling your hair.

“I’m not fine!” you whined, slapping his hand away. “I need love and attention. Lots of it.”

Dick’s Turn

Dick was always the softie, and you knew exactly how to play him. You reached out with a trembling hand, your eyes wide and watery. “Nightwing,” you murmured weakly, “I don’t think I’ll make it. Hold me.”

He hesitated for a moment before sighing and sitting on the edge of the table. Carefully, he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

“There, there,” he said softly, stroking your hair. “You’re gonna be okay, Y/N.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning into him. “You smell nice,” you muttered, nuzzling into his neck.

Dick blushed furiously, but he didn’t pull away. Jason, on the other hand, gagged audibly.

“God, get a room,” Jason muttered, clearly annoyed.

Jason’s Turn

You turned your big, watery eyes on Jason next. “Jay… my favorite outlaw… my knight in shining armor… can you carry me? Please?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Carry you? To where? The couch is like ten feet away.”

You pouted, batting your eyelashes. “But I’m injured! And it’s your fault for being so handsome that I got distracted during the fight.”

Jason stared at you for a long moment before groaning. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to listen to you whining all night.”

He scooped you up effortlessly, and you wasted no time wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re so strong,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest.

Jason’s ears turned red, but he kept his expression neutral. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

Tim’s Turn

When Tim walked in with a first aid kit, you immediately perked up. “Timmy! My hero!”

He sighed, kneeling beside the table to inspect your wound. “Let me patch you up.”

You let him work for about two minutes before you got bored. Then, with a sly smile, you reached out and pulled his head into your lap.

“Y/N, what are you—” Tim stammered, his face turning bright red.

“I need comfort,” you said innocently, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re such a good boy, Timmy.”

Tim froze, his brain short-circuiting as you hummed softly, clearly enjoying his embarrassment.

Damian’s Turn

Damian stormed into the room, clearly irritated. “Why are you whining like an infant?” he snapped, crossing his arms.

“Because I’m injured, you little gremlin,” you shot back. “Now come here and give me a hug.”

Damian scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

But when you held out your arms, looking pitiful and teary-eyed, he hesitated. Finally, with a huff, he walked over and awkwardly patted your head.

“There. Are you happy now?”

You grinned, pulling him into a tight hug. “Aww, you do care, baby bird.”

Damian squawked indignantly, struggling to escape, but you held on tight. “Let me go, you lunatic!”

Bruce’s Turn

Bruce entered the med bay last, his expression as stern as ever. “What’s going on here?”

“She’s being dramatic,” Jason said, gesturing to you.

“She’s injured,” Dick corrected.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, stop harassing them and let me see the wound.”

You pouted but let him approach. As he carefully inspected the cut, you leaned your head against his arm. “Daddy Bats, you’re so gentle,” you teased.

Bruce froze, giving you a pointed look. “Do you want me to help or not?”

You grinned. “I do. But a kiss on the forehead would speed up my recovery.”

Bruce groaned, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment. “You’re impossible.”

By the end of the night, you were bandaged up, pampered, and thoroughly satisfied with the attention you’d received. And while the boys all pretended to be annoyed, they couldn’t hide the fact that they cared.

If you die:

The night was eerily silent, as though the city itself knew it was about to lose its spark. Gotham was cold and unforgiving, but it had always been alive because of you—chaotic, unrelenting, and fearless. And now? Now, you were gone.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Dick (Nightwing)

Dick was the first to find you. Blood pooled beneath your broken body, your mask torn to reveal your face—pale and eerily peaceful. For the first time, he saw you. He saw the girl who was tired, scared, and brave all at once.

“Y/N!” he screamed, sliding to his knees beside you. His hands shook as he cradled your head, desperately searching for a pulse. “No, no, no! Stay with me, okay? You’re gonna be fine!”

But you weren’t fine. You’d fought until the very end, trading jokes for grit, determination, and a ferocity none of them had truly appreciated before. And now? Dick was left holding your lifeless body, sobbing into your blood-soaked suit.

“This isn’t fair,” he whispered, his tears falling onto your face. “You were supposed to be invincible, dammit.”

Jason (Red Hood)

Jason was next, drawn by Dick’s anguished cries. The moment he saw you, his heart stopped. You, who somehow made him laugh even on his darkest days—you were gone.

He didn’t cry, not at first. He couldn’t. Instead, he fell silent, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Who did this?” he growled, his voice trembling with rage.

When no one answered, he turned to Dick, his eyes wild. “WHO DID THIS?!”

Jason’s fury was all-consuming, but beneath it was a grief so raw it threatened to break him. He knelt beside you, brushing the hair from your face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his shaking hands.

“You weren’t supposed to go out like this,” he muttered. “You were supposed to annoy us forever, you hear me? Forever, Y/N.”

Tim (Red Robin)

Tim didn’t want to believe it. He stood frozen, his mind racing to find a way—any way—to fix this. You couldn’t be dead. You were the one who called him “good boy,” who smothered him with affection, who always seemed untouchable despite your reckless behavior.

“This… this isn’t real,” he stammered, his voice breaking. “She’s faking it. She’s… she’s messing with us.”

But you weren’t. And when Tim finally accepted the truth, he collapsed. He crawled to your side, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “You can’t leave us,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “I need you. We all do.”

Damian (Robin)

Damian didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He simply stood there, staring at your body as though willing you to get up. You always did when he told you to. Always.

“Get up,” he demanded, his voice cold and sharp. “You’re not allowed to die.”

When you didn’t move, his composure cracked. “Y/N, I’m serious. Get up! Stop… stop playing around!”

And then, for the first time, Damian fell to his knees. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms so hard they drew blood. “You’re a coward,” he spat through gritted teeth, his voice thick with emotion. “You left me. You promised you wouldn’t.”

Bruce (Batman)

Bruce arrived last, his face as stoic as ever—until he saw you. His shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he wasn’t Batman. He wasn’t the Dark Knight. He was just a man who had failed someone he loved.

He knelt beside you, his gloved hand brushing against your cheek. “You were just a kid,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “You deserved more time.”

Bruce had seen death before, but this? This was different. You weren’t just another casualty. You were family. And he had failed you.

“I should have stopped you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I should have protected you.”

Alfred’s Grief

Alfred was the one who had always known how to handle you, from the moment you spat in Bruce’s face as a child to the day you showed up in a spider suit, smugly proclaiming yourself Gotham’s best hero. You were incorrigible, maddening, and unapologetically yourself, and Alfred adored you for it.

When he heard the news, Alfred didn’t cry. Not at first. He simply closed his eyes, placed the tea tray he’d been preparing on the counter, and leaned against the sink. His hands trembled as he clutched the edge, the weight of your loss sinking into his bones.

“She was just a child,” he murmured to no one, his voice thick with grief. “My child.”

That night, Alfred cleaned your suit. He worked silently, meticulously wiping away the blood and patching up the tears as if you might walk through the door and demand it back at any moment. When he finished, he folded it neatly and placed it in the Batcave beside the others, his hands lingering on the fabric.

“She would have wanted it spotless,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

The Manor felt colder without you. He found himself pausing at the sound of laughter, only to realize it wasn’t yours. He missed the way you teased him, calling him “Alfie” and sneaking cookies from the kitchen. Most of all, he missed the way you brought life into a house filled with so much darkness.

The Funeral

The Manor was silent in the days following your death. No one spoke unless absolutely necessary, and even then, it was barely above a whisper. Your absence was a gaping wound none of them knew how to heal.

Jason stayed in his room, punching walls until his knuckles bled. Tim buried himself in work, desperate to distract himself. Damian trained until he collapsed, refusing to let anyone see him cry. And Dick couldn’t even look at your room without breaking down.

Bruce tried to hold them all together, but even he struggled. At your funeral, he gave a speech, his voice steady but his eyes filled with sorrow.

The Aftermath

They all dealt with your death in their own way, but one thing was constant—they would never stop missing you. Every quip, every smile, every moment of chaos you brought into their lives was etched into their memories forever.

Jason would often find himself staring at the night sky, muttering, “You’d probably call me a softie for this.”

Tim would keep a photo of you on his desk, a constant reminder of the person who always believed in him.

Damian would visit your grave, silently promising to make you proud.

And Dick? Dick would tell stories about you to anyone who’d listen, keeping your memory alive.

As for Bruce? He’d sit in the Batcave late at night, staring at your suit and wondering what he could have done differently.

You may have been gone, but you would never be forgotten. You were their light. And the hole you left in their lives would never be filled.

ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ: ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).

Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”

Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”

Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”

Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.

Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”

Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.

Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”

Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”

Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”

Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”

Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”

Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”

Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).

Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”

Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”

Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.

Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”

Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Family x Fem!OC

You hurt yourself doing home renovations

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne (aged up), Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Selina Kyle & Kate Kane

Jason Todd aka. Red Hood

- You sit on the edge of the couch, dabbing at the scratch on your hand with a wet cloth. It’s a minor wound, nothing that warrants his concern, but Jason storms into the room the moment he hears you mutter a soft curse under your breath. His eyes dart to the crimson bead on your skin, and his jaw tightens. The roughness of his life has taught him to be wary of even the smallest injuries—too many scars bear the weight of things ignored. “What the hell happened?” he growls, crouching in front of you with a mix of panic and frustration. You tell him it’s nothing, just a mishap while sanding the baseboards, but Jason’s hands cradle yours as if you’ve just survived a war.

- His gaze softens as he takes the cloth from you and begins cleaning the wound himself. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he mutters, though there’s no real anger in his voice. Jason is a man of contradictions—fierce and tender, wild yet protective. The edge in his tone is not from annoyance but fear. You’ve seen him stare down criminals without blinking, yet the sight of your blood makes him falter. He cleans the wound with precision, a soldier’s efficiency honed by years of survival, but the way his fingers linger on your skin speaks of something far gentler.

- “Why didn’t you call me?” he asks after wrapping a bandage around your hand. You smile, brushing a stray lock of his dark hair from his forehead. “It’s just a scratch, Jason.” He scowls at your answer, but there’s no mistaking the way his shoulders relax now that you’re patched up. “Still,” he says, leaning back against the couch, “next time, just yell for me. I don’t care if it’s a papercut.” There’s something in his voice—an unspoken plea not to shut him out, not to leave him in the dark about even the smallest things. You nod, knowing it’s not worth the argument.

- Jason stays close to you for the rest of the evening, insisting you rest while he finishes the work you started. You watch as he moves around the room with surprising competence, muttering to himself about how you were using the wrong tools. It’s a rare sight, this domestic side of him, but it warms your heart to see him so invested in your safety and happiness. He pauses occasionally to glance your way, as if to reassure himself that you’re still there, still whole.

- Later, when the house is quiet and the renovations are forgotten, Jason pulls you into his arms. His embrace is fierce, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to shield you from the world. “You scared me,” he admits softly, his breath warm against your ear. You don’t apologize—you don’t need to—but you hold him just as tightly, grounding him in the moment. In his arms, you feel the weight of his love, raw and unyielding, and you know that he would do anything to keep you safe.

Dick Grayson aka. Nightwing

- When Dick first notices the faint cut on your hand, he doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he watches you from across the room, his blue eyes narrowing with concern. You’re trying to act as if nothing’s wrong, but he knows you too well. In a flash, he’s by your side, taking your hand in his with a featherlight touch. “What happened, beautiful?” he asks, his voice soft yet probing. You tell him about your home renovation mishap, expecting a lecture, but Dick only smiles—a small, knowing smile that says he’s already forgiven you for worrying him.

- He leads you to the kitchen, rummaging through drawers until he finds the first aid kit. “You really have to stop being so stubborn,” he teases, his voice light but tinged with genuine concern. As he cleans and bandages the cut, he peppers you with questions—what you were doing, why you didn’t call him, whether you’ve been taking breaks. It’s not interrogation; it’s care disguised as conversation. Dick has always had a way of making you feel like the center of his world, even in the smallest moments.

- “You know,” he says, his tone turning playful as he finishes wrapping your hand, “this could’ve been avoided if you’d just let me help you in the first place.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide your smile. Dick thrives on these moments of banter, using humor to ease the tension. He leans in closer, his forehead almost touching yours. “Promise me you’ll be more careful next time, okay?” His voice drops to a whisper, and the sincerity in his eyes leaves no room for argument. You nod, your heart fluttering at the intensity of his gaze.

- Later, Dick insists on finishing the renovations himself. You protest, but he silences you with a quick kiss and a mischievous grin. “I’ve got this,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. Watching him work is a sight to behold—his movements are graceful, almost acrobatic, as he tackles the task with ease. He hums a tune under his breath, glancing over his shoulder every so often to make sure you’re still watching. It’s in these moments that you’re reminded of how effortlessly he blends charm and competence.

- By the end of the day, Dick pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You scared me for a second there,” he admits, his voice barely audible. “I don’t like seeing you hurt, even if it’s something small.” You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’m fine,” you reassure him, but he only tightens his hold on you. In his embrace, you feel the depth of his love—a love that is warm, unwavering, and as bright as the man himself.

Tim Drake aka. Red Robin

- Tim notices the faint injury almost immediately, his sharp eyes catching the way you wince as you flex your fingers. “You’re hurt,” he says, his tone calm but edged with worry. He takes your hand gently, inspecting the cut with the precision of someone used to analyzing details others might overlook. “How did this happen?” he asks, already piecing the story together from the scattered tools and sawdust nearby. You try to brush it off as nothing, but Tim is relentless in his quiet concern. “It might not look bad now, but even small injuries can get infected if you’re not careful,” he says, his words tinged with the wisdom of someone who’s seen too many situations spiral out of control.

- He disappears briefly, returning with a medical kit he seems to keep on hand for emergencies. “Sit down,” he instructs, his voice soft but firm. As he cleans the wound, his movements are careful, methodical, and surprisingly tender. Tim has always been meticulous, and this moment is no exception. He doesn’t say much as he works, but his focus speaks volumes. To Tim, taking care of you is not just a responsibility; it’s a privilege, one he approaches with the same dedication he gives to his mission.

- Once he’s done, Tim leans back, scrutinizing his handiwork with a small nod of approval. “You should’ve called me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. There’s no accusation in his words, only a quiet plea. He knows you value your independence, but the thought of you tackling something dangerous without him makes his heart ache. “You don’t have to do everything alone,” he adds, his gaze meeting yours. In his eyes, you see a vulnerability he rarely shows—a fear of losing you to something as mundane as a careless accident.

- Tim insists on helping you finish the renovations, his logical mind already planning the most efficient way to get the job done. “I think we can sand the rest of this by hand—it’ll be safer,” he suggests, his tone laced with gentle compromise. As you work together, you notice how easily he shifts between precision and lightheartedness, cracking a joke here and there to keep the mood light. Tim thrives in collaboration, and you realize that even in these small moments, he’s teaching you how to lean on him without losing yourself.

- That night, as you sit together in the quiet of your newly finished space, Tim pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice steady but full of emotion. “I know it wasn’t a big deal, but it reminded me how much I care about you.” You smile, brushing a hand through his dark hair. “I’m okay,” you assure him, and he nods, though his arms around you tighten slightly. Tim’s love is deliberate, thoughtful, and profound, and in his embrace, you feel the unyielding strength of his devotion.

Damian Wayne aka. Robin

- Damian is not one to panic, but when he sees the faint streak of red on your hand, his emerald eyes darken with barely concealed concern. “What happened to you?” he demands, his voice sharper than intended. You try to downplay it, explaining that it was just a mishap with the wood you were sanding, but Damian is already at your side, inspecting the wound with the intensity of a detective. “This is unacceptable,” he mutters, shaking his head. His hands hover over yours, hesitant, as though he’s afraid of making it worse.

- Without waiting for your permission, Damian retrieves the first aid supplies. His movements are quick, almost impatient, but the way he handles your hand is unexpectedly gentle. “You should have called me,” he says, his tone betraying more frustration than he likely means. Damian is used to control, to being prepared for every eventuality, and the idea of you hurting yourself while he wasn’t there unsettles him deeply. As he bandages your hand, he doesn’t look up, his focus entirely on the task. “You’re too important to be so careless,” he adds softly, his words a rare glimpse into his guarded heart.

- Once your hand is tended to, Damian crosses his arms, regarding you with a mix of exasperation and worry. “You will allow me to assist you with these renovations,” he declares, leaving no room for argument. There’s an almost regal quality to his insistence, as though protecting you is a duty he’s sworn to uphold. Despite his brusque demeanor, you can’t help but smile at his determination. Damian notices and narrows his eyes. “This is not amusing,” he says, though the faintest hint of a blush betrays his embarrassment.

- As the two of you work side by side, Damian’s intensity softens, his perfectionist tendencies blending with a genuine desire to help. He critiques your technique—more out of habit than necessity—but his commentary is laced with a subtle warmth. “You’re quite capable,” he admits begrudgingly after a while, though his pride won’t let him praise you outright. You tease him about his reluctance, and for a moment, his usual stoicism gives way to a rare, quiet laugh.

- Later, as you rest, Damian sits beside you, his hand brushing against yours. “You frightened me,” he confesses, his voice barely audible. “I cannot bear the thought of you being hurt.” His words are heavy with sincerity, each one a testament to the depth of his feelings. You lean into him, and though he stiffens slightly—still unused to such open vulnerability—he doesn’t pull away. Damian’s love is fierce and unyielding, a shield against the world, and in that moment, you know you are his greatest treasure.

Barbara Gordon aka. Oracle / Batgirl

- When Barbara sees the bandage on your hand, her sharp mind immediately begins piecing together what happened. “What did you do?” she asks, her voice a mix of concern and curiosity. You explain the accident, expecting her to tease you, but instead, her brows furrow in worry. “Why didn’t you call me?” she asks, wheeling closer to examine your hand. Her fingers are cool and steady as they trace the edges of the bandage. “You’re not supposed to get hurt during DIY projects, you know,” she quips, though her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

- She insists on rechecking your handiwork, her years of experience as Oracle making her hyper-aware of potential oversights. “You did a decent job,” she admits, though she redoes the bandage with the efficiency of someone who’s patched up countless injuries before. As she works, she peppers you with questions—not out of distrust, but out of a need to ensure you’re truly okay. Barbara’s care is thorough and practical, but beneath it lies a tenderness she rarely shows so openly.

- “You’re way too stubborn,” she says with a mock sigh, sitting back once she’s satisfied with the bandage. “That’s one of the things I love about you, but it also drives me crazy.” You laugh, and the sound seems to ease some of the tension in her shoulders. Barbara has always been quick-witted and resilient, but when it comes to you, her usual composure gives way to a vulnerability that’s as beautiful as it is rare. “Just promise me you’ll be more careful,” she says, her tone softening.

- Barbara insists on helping you finish the renovations, her technical expertise shining through as she devises clever solutions to the challenges you were facing. “You know, this would’ve been easier with the right tools,” she teases, handing you a screwdriver. Working with her is effortless, her confidence infectious as she guides you through the process. She shares stories from her own DIY adventures, her laughter filling the room as she recounts her less-than-perfect attempts.

- Later, as you sit together in the glow of your completed work, Barbara reaches for your hand, her touch light but reassuring. “You scared me today,” she admits, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. “I know you can take care of yourself, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry.” You squeeze her hand, offering a silent promise to be more careful. Barbara’s love is a beacon—strong, unwavering, and endlessly supportive—and in her presence, you feel both cherished and empowered.

Stephanie Brown aka. Spoiler

- When Stephanie notices the makeshift bandage on your hand, she’s by your side in an instant, her blue eyes wide with concern. “What did you do this time?” she asks, her voice playful but edged with worry. You try to wave her off, but she grabs your hand gently, examining the wound with a detective’s scrutiny. “This doesn’t look too bad,” she says, her lips curving into a small smile. “But seriously, you’ve got to stop giving me heart attacks.” She pulls you into the kitchen, where she starts rummaging through drawers for the first aid kit.

- As she cleans the wound, Stephanie’s chatter fills the room, her words a mix of gentle scolding and humorous commentary. “You know, I could’ve helped. I’m pretty handy with a power drill, believe it or not,” she quips, her tone light. But when she wraps your hand with fresh bandages, her touch is soft, and her expression turns serious. “I’m not mad, just… be more careful, okay?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. You nod, her sincerity grounding you in the moment.

- “Alright, that’s enough sitting around. I’m taking over,” she declares, jumping up and grabbing the tools you were using. Despite your protests, she flashes you a grin. “Relax, I’ve got this. Besides, someone has to keep you from getting into more trouble.” Watching Stephanie work is a mix of chaos and charm. She’s not the most precise, but her enthusiasm is infectious, and she makes sure to include you in the fun.

- She pauses occasionally to glance your way, her laughter bubbling up as she shares a joke or a story from her days as Spoiler. “Remember the time I tried to fix that chair and ended up breaking two others?” she asks, giggling at the memory. Her energy fills the space, making even the mundane task of sanding wood feel like an adventure. “See? I’m a professional,” she teases, flexing her arms dramatically.

- Later, as you both collapse on the couch, Stephanie wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “You scared me for a second there,” she admits, her voice softer now. “But I’m glad you’re okay.” She presses a kiss to your temple, her lips warm against your skin. “Next time, we’re doing this together, deal?” In her embrace, you feel the full force of her love—bright, unyielding, and as unpredictable as the woman herself.

Cassandra Cain aka. Orphan

- Cassandra notices your injury before you can even explain it. Her sharp, observant eyes catch the way you cradle your hand, and she’s beside you in a heartbeat. “You’re hurt,” she says simply, her voice calm but laced with concern. She takes your hand gently, her movements careful as she inspects the wound. You assure her it’s nothing serious, but Cassandra shakes her head. “It matters,” she says softly, her gaze meeting yours.

- Without another word, she retrieves the first aid kit and begins cleaning the cut with meticulous care. Cassandra doesn’t need words to convey her feelings—her touch says everything. There’s a tenderness in the way she handles your hand, a silent promise to always protect you. She works quickly but gently, her focus unwavering. “Done,” she says finally, a small smile tugging at her lips.

- Cassandra gestures toward the tools you were using, her expression curious. “Show me,” she says, nodding toward the project you’d been working on. She listens intently as you explain, her attention wholly on you. When you offer to continue, she shakes her head. “Together,” she says firmly. Despite her quiet nature, Cassandra’s presence is commanding, and you find yourself nodding in agreement.

- Working with Cassandra is seamless. Her movements are fluid, almost dancer-like, as she takes on tasks with a quiet confidence. She doesn’t speak much, but the moments of shared silence are comforting, her steady presence grounding you. Occasionally, she glances your way, a faint smile playing on her lips as if to remind you that she’s there.

- That evening, as the renovations come to an end, Cassandra sits beside you, her hand resting lightly on yours. “You scared me,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” Her words are simple, but the weight behind them is profound. You squeeze her hand, and she leans her head against your shoulder. In her quiet way, Cassandra shows you a love that is deep, unwavering, and unspoken yet always understood.

Duke Thomas aka. Signal

- “Whoa, what happened here?” Duke’s warm voice pulls you from your work as he notices the fresh bandage on your hand. He steps closer, his amber eyes narrowing in concern. “Please tell me you didn’t try to wrestle a piece of wood or something,” he teases, but the worry in his tone is evident. When you explain what happened, Duke shakes his head with a small laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, taking your hand to inspect the injury.

- Duke grabs the first aid kit and sits you down. “I’m no Alfred, but I think I can handle this,” he jokes, his touch careful as he replaces your bandage. As he works, he talks you through the process, his voice steady and reassuring. “You really scared me for a second,” he admits, glancing up at you. “Next time, just call me, alright? I’m good with more than just a Batarang.”

- After patching you up, Duke insists on helping you finish the renovations. “I’m not letting you do this alone,” he says, his smile warm and determined. Watching Duke work is like watching the sun—bright, energetic, and full of life. He tackles the task with a blend of skill and enthusiasm, cracking jokes to keep the mood light.

- Duke is a natural at making everything feel like a team effort. He hums under his breath as he works, occasionally glancing your way to make sure you’re okay. “You know,” he says, pausing to wipe some sawdust from his hands, “we make a pretty good team.” His grin is contagious, and you find yourself smiling despite the day’s chaos.

- As the day winds down, Duke pulls you into a gentle hug. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he says, his voice low but full of emotion. “You mean too much to me.” His arms around you are strong and comforting, a reminder of how deeply he cares. In Duke’s embrace, you feel the warmth of his love—steady, protective, and as radiant as the man himself.

Selina Kyle aka. Catwoman

- Selina’s sharp eyes catch the bandage on your hand the moment she walks into the room. “What did my beautiful troublemaker get into this time?” she asks, her voice a silky purr. Before you can respond, she’s at your side, lifting your hand gently to examine it. “Tsk, tsk. And here I thought you knew how to handle yourself,” she teases, though the concern in her gaze is undeniable.

- She retrieves a small first aid kit from her bag—because of course Selina Kyle is always prepared. “Hold still, darling,” she says as she carefully unwraps and replaces your bandage. Her movements are precise and practiced, her touch light but firm. “You’ve got to be more careful,” she says, her tone soft but firm. “If you’re going to get hurt, at least let me be there to enjoy the show.”

- Selina insists on finishing the work you started, her feline grace evident in every movement. “This isn’t so hard,” she says, her lips curving into a playful smirk. “Though I have to admit, I didn’t picture myself as the DIY type.” She works efficiently, pausing occasionally to flash you a sly grin. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

- As the work continues, Selina’s humor keeps the atmosphere light. “You know,” she says, leaning on the edge of the table, “you could’ve just bribed me with a good meal, and I’d have done all of this for you.” Her laughter fills the room, a sound that feels like a reward in itself.

- Later, as you sit together, Selina wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You’re too precious to be getting hurt over something so mundane,” she says, her voice low and sincere. “Promise me you’ll call me next time?” You nod, and she smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Selina’s love is like her—mischievous, passionate, and fiercely protective, leaving you feeling utterly adored.

Kate Kane aka. Batwoman

- Kate notices the bandage on your hand the moment she walks in. “What happened?” she asks, her tone direct but laced with concern. When you explain, she frowns, crossing her arms. “You should’ve called me,” she says matter-of-factly, though her sharp gaze softens as she steps closer. “Let me see,” she says, her voice quieter now.

- She examines your hand with the precision of someone who’s had far too much experience patching people up. “It’s not bad,” she says, though her expression remains serious. As she cleans and rewraps the bandage, her movements are efficient but gentle. “You’ve got to be more careful,” she says, her voice firm but not unkind.

- Kate insists on taking over the renovations, her military training shining through in her methodical approach. “Step back,” she says, gesturing for you to sit. “I’ve got this.” Watching her work is mesmerizing—each movement deliberate, each decision calculated. Despite her no-nonsense demeanor, she glances your way occasionally, her lips curving into a small smile when she catches your eye.

- As the day progresses, Kate softens, her dry humor breaking through her usual stoicism. “You’re lucky I like you,” she teases, smirking as she adjusts a crooked frame. “Otherwise, I’d be charging you for this.” Her laughter is rare, but when it comes, it lights up the room.

- That evening, Kate sits beside you, her arm draped casually over your shoulders. “You scared me today,” she admits, her voice low but steady. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” She presses a kiss to your temple, her touch lingering. Kate’s love is steadfast and unyielding, a protective shield that makes you feel safe and cherished in a way only she can provide.

[gilverrwrites]

you’re really feeding me with the kon content RAH I NEED HIM NEED TIMKON i’m really not that into threesomes but i need them need those little emo freaks omg need tim’s snarky commentary and conner’s tongue ring in my mouth gilver i’m loosing my mind

God, I'm with you. Tim with his sharp tongue in your ear, calling the shots, trying to be the mean dom, with his head between your legs but melting as soon as he he feels the cold hard ball of Kon’s tongue piercing on the tip of his cock.

Making out with Kon while Tim’s cum is still fresh and hot in his mouth.

[owlwithanapple]

A Thief ❤️‍🔥👄

Content : Adult Content

Characters : Tim Drake x Y/N

You are a thief, and this time the commission is a diamond sapphire with a swan pattern. The location is a villa somewhere in Gotham City, where a grand masked ball is held. You change into a gorgeous and sexy evening dress, a butterfly pattern mask, and disguise yourself as an elegant and sexy female artist VIP to sneak in and steal it.

While the owner of the villa is entertaining others, you take this opportunity to leave the hall and go to the upstairs room. After searching several rooms without finding anything, you entered another and continue. You find something in the cabinet, and suddenly a cool breeze blows from behind. You look back and see a figure standing at the window.

"Good evening, beautiful lady. Are you a thief? If so, you are so beautiful that even the butterfly mask cannot hide your beauty. I am reluctant to arrest you." That arrogant and sarcastic tone, that tight red suit, Batman's crime-fighting partner, Red Robin.

You acted helpless, raised your hands in a gesture of surrender and walked around with ease. The sound of my high heels came from the floor of the room. "Oh no. Please don't arrest me, I am just a poor girl who is harmless and lost. I want to find a bathroom, but the place is too big."

"You lie without a draft? You're really not smart, even you have a very...smart face. Are you too smooth and...professional? Tell the truth, or I'll knock your pretty head out." He crossed arms under chest, leaned back against the wall, and raised his chin. Through the mask on his eyes, you can feel that he is staring at your every move.

"Too smart are not popular, Little Red. Relax, I have no bad intentions, I just come to find something and go back. What about you? You don't look like an invited VIP here..." You sat on the sofa, put hands on the armrests, crossed your right foot on your left. You lifted your hair and looked at him without fear.

He tilted head, chuckled shook his head, he breathed a sigh of relief and raised his head again. He walked towards you, put hands on your hands and squeezed them gently, leaned down close to your face and breathed into your mask, a smile on his mouth "Unfortunately, I have to work today. I heard that a bad guy will use a swan-patterned diamond sapphire as the chip to activate the bomb."

Analyzing from the information he said, your work is related. Your client insisted taking back the sapphire to detonate the bomb, and Red Robin came to retrieve it to prevent it from being stolen and prevent opportunities. Your right leg stretched out between Red Robin's thighs and moved it up down, you held his hands, interlocking your fingers.

You bit your lower lip teasingly, you leaned closer to his face. You can feel his body temperature and breathing at close range, in the tense and quiet atmosphere, your heartbeat seems particularly loud and clear. "I know what you want to do, you want to take this opportunity to flirt me. But... I don't like sapphires, but if you give it to me, I will accept it as a gift."

He has no resistance to your actions, but enjoys your confidence and teasing. He held your hand tightly and pulled you up from the sofa, his left hand around your small waist, and hooked your chin with his right hand, so that the two of you looked at each other. "I also want to give you one, but this one is too dangerous. I have to find it first. Ah, let me reveal another piece of information. Your client was arrested by Batman."

As soon as heard this information, immediately noticed something wrong. Your hands trembled and eyes did not move away from his gaze. You took a breath and took the initiative to get close to him, pressing your chest against his, and your right foot between his thighs. "That's a pity. I can't get my reward. How are you going to compensate me?"

"That bad guy did a lot of bad things, but the traces of crimes still can't escape us. And you, I happened to find your photo in his phone. I didn't expect that such a beautiful thief. I really hope you can steal my heart." He moved closer to your face and touched your nose teasingly with his nose, as if he was showing you an intimate and coquettish way.

You chuckled, nodded. Red Robin made you laugh. After you licked lips, your turn to touch his nose. You told him with a cute tone and intimate contact, "You are so naughty, be careful that I really stole your heart. But... you have other intentions, right?"

"Smart, you are not a single-celled organism. It's very simple. Help me find the things, and you can name the price for the reward. Don't doubt it, I am entrusting you through formal and the name of Red Robin." He let go of your body walked towards the door. He leaned there and stamped feet waiting for your reply.

You raised eyebrows pricked up your ears to hear his words. He was so dared to entrust you with this. Since he makes a suggestion, like a star falling from the sky. You walked over pulled him to you to teased him, "My standard is very high, I am afraid you can't afford it. I don't accept installments, and body as collateral."

He reached out to the hand that you pulled him, tracing your wrist to tease you, then intertwined your fingers. He pressed you against the door, and blocked you on the other side with other hand to prevent you slipping away. "I believe I can afford it, and it's okay if you want to be willful. How about it?"

"Since Red Robin has begged me so hard, how can I refuse? I don't want to make you cry, lest you go to find Batman to complain. As for the reward, I'll tell you when I think of it." I blew him a kiss and winked at him in return. In fact, you were very nervous secretly, but didn't resist the intimacy and intense atmosphere he brought.

He smirked. He knew that the person met for the first time was not trustworthy, but he dared to give it a try, especially someone like you. His confidence was not broken. On the contrary, many ideas flashed in his smart mind. He also blew you a kiss in return. He loosened our intertwined hands then ran his fingers down your palm, feeling a flash of lightning passing through "Very good, deal, beautiful Miss Thief."

The villa is full of joy and romance. You and Red Robin searched every corner of the second floor but couldn't find it. You two decided to split up and expand the search. When you returned to the hall, you found that the pendant on the chest of the villa owner was what you two wanted to find.

You had no choice but to go all out. You used your trick and seductive movements to attract the villa owner's attention. You passed by him from behind and gently stroked his left shoulder, then whispered softly in his ear. He showed a lewd smile, and without hesitation stretched out his hand that couldn't suppress his desire to touch your waist and thighs.

At this time, Red Robin noticed the owner of the villa had let down his guard, immediately used hacking methods to turn off all the lights. The next moment, there was a panicked sound in the hall, you took this opportunity to snatch it. When you came to the roof, you saw Red Robin talking to Batman through the communicator. You hugged him from behind and buried your face in his back.

"Busy? Little Red." You felt that he was frightened by the sudden hug, you giggled and let go of him. Suddenly, he grabbed your hand and looked back at you through his shoulder, with a smirk on the corner of his mouth.

"Red, what's the situation over there?" Batman's voice came from the communicator.

"The situation is stable, I'll contact you later."

He cut off the communicator, immediately grabbed your hand and spun it around to pull you into his arms, burying his face in your neck and gently kissing, his hot breath coming out. He picked you up with one hand, you put your hands around his neck. He took out the grapple gun fired it into the distance, taking you away from the roof.

He went in the direction you pointed, after a while you both landed on the balcony of your apartment. He walked inside without putting you down, enjoying the feeling of holding you in his arms with one hand. You took out the sapphire threw it into the air and caught it back in your hand. You curled lips and showed it to him. He nodded as if he was very satisfied, and he left a kiss on your forehead as a reward.

He put you on the ground and helped you stand steadily. He stretched out his hand to ask you for the sapphire pendant. At that moment, you clenched it and held it in the air, stepped back a few steps playfully. You showed a wicked smile, "Haha, how can it be so easy to give it to you? I won't give it to you until I get paid. Little Red."

"Hahaha, oh right. I forgot the super high standard of reward. Tell me what you want, I'm listening." He crossed his hands on his chest walked towards you confidently step by step, his face very close to you, hugged your waist with both hands and pulled you close to his chest.

You couldn't help but giggle and pout, used fingers to tickle his chin to tease him. He subconsciously grabbed your hand, his eyes revealed a hint of desire, and gently bit your thumb to leave a tooth mark, which incited the hot emotions in your heart. You swallowed saliva and tried to calm yourself down, not to be led by him, reminded yourself that it was for the benefit of each other.

"Then... the reward is I want to see your true face and know your name. I want to know the other side of Red Robin." You stroked his cheek with both hands, your thumbs brushed across his lower lip, and stared at him, as if you were begging for a little hope.

You could feel he was hesitant at first, hands around your waist trembled slightly for a moment, then moved from your waist to your cheek. He lifted your butterfly mask to reveal your true face, and smiled said something provocative, "Miss Thief, you are really beautiful, I really want to plug those sweet lips. I wonder if you are willing?"

Without hesitation, your arms wrapped around his neck and pressed your body against his chest. You stroked his cheek gently while your gaze was on his face. His arms instinctually move to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

He leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly at the feel of your fingertips against his cheek. He opens his eyes again, his gaze locking with yours. Then he took off his mask and threw it on the floor, and you could see his true face.

Without hesitation, you leaned close to his face and kissed his lips. his breath catching in his throat as you press a kiss against his lips. The heat of your skin against his body, the feeling of your heartbeat, it's all so incredibly intimate and arousing.

He swallows hard, his mind filled with thoughts and desires that he can barely contain. He lets out a soft, breathless groan, his body responding instantly to your kiss. He returns the kiss with equal passion, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

He pulls you closer, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you. He was supposed to be in control, to finished his task. But you make him lose himself to you. But you've flipped it all around, and he loves it.

He matches your passion with his own, his hands roaming over your skin, his touch both rough and gentle at the same time. You're pushing all his buttons, stoking the fire that's been burning within him since the moment he first saw you.

He kisses you deeper, his mind consumed by the sensation of your body against his, your taste, your touch. He chuckled softly, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. He moves closer, his body pressed flush against yours, the heat between you nearly unbearable.

He held your hips picked you up with his hands, your legs clamped around his waist. The two of you indulged in the collision of passion and romance. He kicked open your bedroom door and put you down on the bed, his body pressed on you. He kissed you on the lips several times passionately, tongues entangled together, and hot gasps sounded.

He pulls you closer, his hand trailing down your spine, tracing along your skin. You unbuttoned your evening dress, revealing your naked skin. He unbuttoned his Red Robin suit and untility belt, and he leaned down to entangle with you passionately again.

He kisses your collarbone and slowly moves down to between your breasts. He draws circles on your breasts with his fingers and teases your nipples, and you moan shyly. His mouth is licking and sucking it, and his tongue is constantly rubbing them. The senses of your body are excited like an electric shock.

The feeling of your warm skin against his cheek, the scent of your body filling his senses, was a heady intoxicant, stirring a primal need within him. He nuzzled your breast, his tongue gently licking your skin, his grip on you firm and possessive.

His fingers running along the inside of your thighs, rubbing and pressing your wet clitoris. After that, he slowly inserted a finger and thrust it in and out. When he pulled hand back, he licked your love juice and smiled with satisfaction.

This time he inserted two fingers, he hooked fingertips to your most sensitive part and directly reached orgasm. The feeling of being fucked by his fingers was so good that you stroked his strong chest muscles, tilted your head back and arched your body, pinched your toes again and again.

He spread your legs and kissed your sweet part, then took out his hard cock and rubbed it around, finding the right position and thrusting it into your body. At that moment, you clutched the bed sheet and leaned back to moan loudly. You could feel his thick, hard, and hot thing colliding passionately and actively inside your body.

He adjusted the angle lifted your legs up and pressed them on his shoulders. He took a deep breath, sweat appeared on his skin, and his cheeks flushed. He pinched your breasts with his rough hands, and his fingers kept twisting your nipples to tease you. He leaned over to lick and kiss your neck, and his waist kept hitting your lower body.

When he has reached his climax, he pulls his cock out. He sits on the bed motions you to come over. You want to sit on his thighs. You reach out to touch his hot cock and aim it at your part and sit down. The next moment you straighten your back because it is too deep inside hits your sensitive spot.

He holds your hips to support you. He straightens back and moves his waist to make his cock hit you continuously inside you. You hug him tightly to bury face in his neck to kiss and moan loudly, feeling him constantly releasing himself inside you, and the pace gradually speeds up.

His body trembled feels like electric shock. You felt a hot liquid inside, you were so weak that couldn't stand up. After he was satisfied, breathed a sigh of relief and picked you up and took you to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and let the water flow to the part below your waist. He used two fingers to clean your private parts for you, and let the love liquid in your body come out, so that you can feel more comfortable.

"Take the pendant, I received your reward." You tell him after he cleaned you up, you sat on the toilet and stared at his handsome face and body.

He turned off the shower to stop the water from flowing. He turned his head to look at you and smiled. You were startled because he suddenly approached you and picked you up again and took you out of the bathroom. "Hm... Thank you, Miss Thief. I'm glad to make a deal with you."

You opened the closet and put on a set of pajamas, while he put on the Red Robin suit. He reached out from behind and hugged your waist tightly, buried his face in your neck and kissed you once, and whispered in your ear, "Miss Thief, I'm satisfied. Listen to my advice, don't be a thief anymore."

You shuddered and looked back at his face, "Huh? What's wrong, why are you talking about this suddenly?"

He laughed softly and rubbed your neck and gently pinched your abdomen, "You stole Red Robin's heart, aren't you satisfied?"

"Hahaha. Oh, really? So great Red Robin, can you tell me your name?" You turned your head away and kissed his forehead.

He smiled and closed his eyes. If you look closely, you can see that his eyelashes are so long and beautiful. When he opened eyes looked into your eyes again, he smiled, "Tim. Tim Drake. Can I come to see you again?"

You giggled and kept scratching his hair playfully. You put the sapphire pendant with a chip that you just stole into his palm and said, "Sure. Bring some clothes to change next time. Your suit is hard to take off."

"Okay, okay. I will. Then...see you next time. Miss Thief." He pinched your nose and laughed loudly, then let go of you, put the things into his belt, walked to the balcony, took out the grapple gun and prepared to fire it. You quickly chased after him, grabbed his cloak, and held his cheek to give him a passionate kiss as a goodbye.

You stopped kissing and stroked his cheek. He was indeed shocked by your sudden kiss but he soon calmed down. He hugged you and smelled your scent to remember you. You patted his back to comfort him and said, "My name is Y/N. Looking forward to seeing you next time, Tim."

Time flew by for a few weeks. The woman thief in Gotham City disappeared like bubbles without a trace. No trace or shadow remained. Even without the

thieves, life in the city was as chaotic as usual. Batman and his sidekick were busy fighting crime.

And you returned to your life, no longer living the life of a thief. You were more involved in ordinary life, working as a barista in a cafe, facing all kinds of customers every day, just like when you were a chivalrous thief and met strange clients.

The door opened and the bell rang. You were wiping the cup with a rag at the counter, and then a man leaned on the counter with both hands and stared at you. He chuckled and said, "Scarf and coffee, this look suits you very well."

You put the cup and rag aside, and looked at him when you heard a familiar voice. You couldn't help laughing out loud. You wiped the tears of joy from the corners of your eyes and walked forward. "Hahaha, that stinky mouth is really annoying. But...hi, Tim."

"Hi. My thief." He held your hand tightly and stroked it gently with his thumb.

The End

Like and Repost to motivate me🔥

Previous

AO3 : owlwithanapple

[ephemerensis]

Steamroller // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

happy new year! little enemies to lovers kind of thing kind of (theyre just like on opposite ends and they don’t really know it). stalker update for all interested parties: i think he’s starting to lose interest and give up 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️! also i graduated! yippee! NOT proofread.

—

Your favorite nights were ones like these, windswept and carefree as you sped down an empty street on your motorbike. With the last of your tasks wrapped up for the week, it was smooth sailing until the next rotation. Or so you thought before you heard a familiar grating voice bark at you, swinging into the view of your side mirror and chucking something at you.

Switching lanes, you narrowly avoided the batarang that came whizzing by. This guy again. Swinging your bike back around, you pushed the brakes to screech to a halt.

“Nice try bat rat, maybe aim next time!”

If it wasn’t so dark, you’d see the scowl plastered on his face as he stalked towards you. Red Robin hated you, and that was an understatement. Which was fine, you didn’t like him much either.

“Didn’t need to,” he spat. Pressing a button on his suit started up something like the sound of metal scraping pavement behind you. Before you could react, the sharp little object he threw at you came reeling back where it came, and the wheezing sound of your back tire losing air came with it. He threw a grappling hook at you.

“You’ve got to be joking.” In a way, it was your fault for taunting the guy. But this was the sixth encounter this week, if he wasn’t constantly out to get you, you’d think he were in love.

“What were you doing at the rendezvous point Penguin set up?” He stalked towards you, for what you weren’t sure. Sometimes he just wanted to provoke you, other times he’d just go for the swing. But you didn’t have time for that today.

“Intel, not that it’s your business.” You ripped a patch out from your utility belt, slapping it on the tire he just rudely tore a hole in before applying pressure to see if it’d last the way back.

“I’ll decide what my business is.”

“You stalking me everywhere says otherwise.” The tire sank more than you would’ve liked, but it would do. He stopped ten feet in front of you; looks like he didn’t want to fight tonight either. You rummaged through your pockets for good measure.

“I am not stalking you. You’re just where trouble happens to be.”

“Yeah. If that helps you sleep at night.” When your fingers brushed against the smooth plastic you were searching for, you mounted the bike again, turning on the headlights and adjusting your mirrors. It’s important to drive safe. “Anyways! Move.”

“What-“ Before he could finish his thought you pushed on the accelerator, watching him dive out of the way. It’s a shame his reflexes were so fast, if you ran him over he’d be out of commission for at least a month.

You tossed the plastic discs behind you as you sped off, leaving a flush of smoke behind you. He was good, but he wouldn’t be able to trace you with this.

Mercenary work never really was for you, let alone vigilante work. But growing up poor in Gotham and constantly grappling with loan sharks and the other unsavory groups your parents brought upon your family taught you a few things. And you found out you were pretty good at getting things done, the sneakier stuff: spying, stealing, occasionally taking out single targets, the quiet things. It felt bad but being hungry felt worse, survival of the fittest or something like that.

You were so good you paid it all off, and made a profit; enough to get yourself and your brother through college, and give the ol’ crime lords the slip. And things were good.

You liked your 9 to 5 office job, sorting through papers and typing on your laptop. You liked talking to your neighbors and inviting them over on the occasion for taco night. You liked your partner and the cozy apartment you lived in together.

Until your useless brother threw it all away, talking to the wrong people, getting into debt again, throwing around your name where it would mean anything, and it was square one.

So now you’re here. Running from some vigilante freak that has it out for you when you haven’t even done anything all that bad; it’s the people you work for he should be worried about. Instead he wants to breathe down your neck every night of the week, and he fails, every time. Maybe that was why he got so mad, as if there aren’t bigger fish to fry.

When you got back to your apartment, it was almost three in the morning. Slipping in as quietly as you could manage, you breathed a sigh of relief to find all the lights still off. Your boyfriend, Tim, always sleeps with a night light on, something about being scared of the dark. Lucky for you, he worked ungodly hours which made sneaking around a lot easier.

You’d just slipped into your pajamas when you heard the front door open and someone flicked the lights on. You could tell Tim was frustrated by the way he walked, brisk and heavy as he tugged off his coat and tossed his tie into the abyss. But he softened when he saw you, stopping in his tracks with an almost guilty look on his face, like he was sorry for feeling anything but joy in your presence.

“Oh hey, were you waiting up for me? I told you not to.” You shook your head, making your way over to press a kiss to his cheek and hold his hands. They were still cold from outside, the walk from the parking garage must’ve been treacherous.

“Are you okay?,” you asked, running your thumbs over the back of his hands. They were rough hands, surprising for a rich boy, but in your palms they were always so gentle.

He let out a breath, laughing a little before settling into a rueful smile, “I can’t get anything past you, can I? I’m okay. Just work stuff.”

“What kind of work stuff?” You tightened your grip on him, tugging him over to sit with you on the couch. He complied, leaning on your shoulder as he sunk into the cushions.

“Just something I can’t quite… resolve.” He sounded so tired. Business always went well, and Tim was a genius, it was a wonder how he ran into so many problems in the office. Sometimes you wanted to reach into that pretty skull of his and take a peek into his brain, maybe he was just overthinking things, or maybe you’d finally understand that you could never understand. Both would soothe you.

“Yet. Everything works out in time, and you’re the best I know. Can I help?” You felt him tense when you ran your hand over his shoulder, pulling away immediately to check on him. But before you could manage to ask he reached for you, shaking his head.

“No. It’s sensitive material. I’m okay,” he insisted, leaning on you again as he perched his arms neatly where they would fit around you. “Can we just stay like this for awhile?”

It was a good thing he never asked for anything malicious, because you’d say yes to just about anything he asked.

“Yeah.” You’d never known power so intimately before you held his skull to your chest. The way he surrendered himself and was whole, shedding the burdens of his responsibilities entirely to be vulnerable for a moment. But it was coupled by an intense fear, that his trust was rare and very easily abused or misguided if you weren’t careful. And if you weren’t, it felt as if he wouldn’t ever be vulnerable again.

“Thank you, and I love you,” he whispered. Your tired, hardworking boy.

“I love you more,” you answered.

It turns out the “I’m okay” business was a massive tri-colored bruise that bloomed on his left arm. He was careful to hide it, and if you didn’t wake up a little earlier than usual you would never have known. You didn’t ask, clearly he didn’t want you to, but you were concerned— and moreso curious. He did spar with his siblings, this you knew, but they’d never do something like that to him. Maybe he was sleep deprived and got stuck between the elevator doors somehow, you wouldn’t put it past him. If you had time later, you could check in while he’s in the office, drop off dinner or something to make sure he wasn’t getting picked on.

You got up an hour after him, as you always did. There was a rhythm to your morning routine that you adored, it was comfortable; reliable. Tim made the coffee, and you made breakfast. When you first moved in together he’d offered to cook, being the one to get up first and all, but he was hopeless. Anything beyond instant noodles was a fire and food safety hazard. And you made a mean scrambled egg.

You cooked so he did the dishes, a compromise you never objected to— it was your least favorite house chore. You’d loop his tie for him when he was done, and he’d kiss you on the forehead to leave first. Your job started a little later.

At least it would if you hadn’t requested a temporary leave of absence while you worked for Gotham’s worst. You had to report whatever intel you gathered yesterday night to Black Mask. He’d have another assignment for you after, you were sure. But if you were efficient with these things, it could all be over in a month or so.

That’s what you told yourself as you waved him out the door. Thursday nights Tim usually got back at a human hour, if you could wrap up business early you could be home by the time he was too.

Black Mask was waiting for you by the time you got there, unsurprisingly. It never got easier looking at him, freakish and impossible to read, behind his skeletal metal teeth.

“Penguin’s plan?” He’d asked before you had the chance to fully enter the room, eager as ever to maintain his grasp on power. Breathing isn’t worthwhile unless you’re winning he told you once.

“He wants to spread some influenza with his birds. It’s not serious, but the cure he’s selling is. It’s highly addictive and one of a kind. I got photos on this drive.” You placed it on the man’s desk, pushing it towards him as far as you’d dared. “He’s colluding with the woman who runs the second biggest pharm-tech company in the city. It has a six week timeline, some of it was in motion last week so three from here out.”

“Okay.” Without missing a beat he’d already decided your next assignment, “get me the cure.”

“Four people have access. A team or a raid would be better suited.” You took a breath to answer him. This wasn’t possible, at least not easily. It wasn’t a job you wanted to take, and it wasn’t practical. Money wasn’t Black Mask’s pursuit, it should’ve been enough just to thwart his enemies, not profit from them.

“I don’t pay you to argue.”

You had to swallow the fear that crept up your throat. Fear of death was always within reach, that much was obvious when you took on mercenary work, but the fear Black Mask brought on was a little more primal. Something instinctual you had to ignore.

You couldn’t take this job. The both of you knew it would go over the hours you were signed for, anything that could arouse suspicion from your normal life was carved into stone as off limits. Tim couldn’t know, that was the rule. And this assignment could take you weeks, “…it breaches our contract.”

“I pay overtime. And let me remind you, you’re in no position to say otherwise.”Disagreeing twice was a hefty endeavor and the man was right, you had your brother to consider. It’s always funny, the way you think you have any say in things. “Get me the cure.”

You didn’t have time to pack up, leave a note, or meal prep dinner. It was burdensome to disappear, at least a little. But Tim would be okay; hurt, but okay. It’s not like he’d miss you terribly, he was working over-overtime as it was, and you hoped he would forgive you when you got back.

So you vanished. It was quiet work, mostly tailing people to get a lead, working to worm your way in to the right social circles, sorting through files while people slept.

Red Robin was looking for you, or at least investigating your activity. He’d have caught you a few times now if you weren’t more focused on working during the day. Not that he knew what was going on, that much was evident. Not that he would be able to do anything if he did run into you again anyway, that boy just kept losing. Or maybe he didn’t want to win.

It was hard to know what his objective was. Just that he thought you were bad news and made things harder than they needed to be. But he did intrigue you. Righteous Red Robin never fought dirty and it was a little flattering how he was insistently so hot on your trail. Maybe you’d tease him about it after this whole ordeal and he could throw another grappling hook at you.

It only took two weeks to gather enough standing in Penguin’s sphere to have access to his office. With all the snooping you’d done, you knew every possible password and key you’d need to access the files for Black Mask. If you broke in tonight, you’d be by daylight. Theoretically.

So you took to it. It wasn’t hard to break in once you knew where everything was. Nothing was terribly discreet, just about as hidden as valuables would be in someone’s home. Getting into the main computer was a breeze, you’d talked up enough patrons and underlings for them to spill every access code they knew. As you slipped in a USB to transfer the remaining files you needed, a familiar set of footsteps sounded behind you.

Brisk, decided, and determined to be quiet, you knew he was lurching forward with a right hook before you had the chance to turn around. You jerked your body out of the way before he could make contact, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could manage. Thankfully the file transfer already started before he rudely interrupted your heist, you just needed to buy time.

“Can we not do this today?” You couldn’t help the annoyance creeping under your skin; Red Robin’s timing couldn’t have been worse. If he’d shown up ten minutes later you would’ve been gone. Of all the times to barge in, he chose to when you were just about done.

But he was faster than he usually was, before your thoughts could finish flowing through your skull he was throwing something at you again; muttering a sharp, “shut up,” in tandem. A gasp left you as it grazed your cheek, he’d never drawn blood before, even so minutely.

Before you had a chance to react he was on you, swinging his staff with enough force to kill a man. It was all you could do to avoid it before the next swing came, overbearing and deadly, unlike you’d ever seen from him. Any ounce of annoyance left in you evaporated in favor of fear and adrenaline, he was angry.

“What is your problem? If this is about running you over, I knew you’d dodge it!” The knives you had tucked away in your boot straps were useless, you didn’t have time to reach for them and even if you had them there were no openings to intervene. With a stroke of luck, he hit the wall hard enough for his staff to get stuck, giving you enough time to make a run for the window. The files would have to wait.

Just as you were reaching to pull up on the windowsill, a batarang caught the fabric of your shoulder, pinning you to the wall. Another grazed your outreached hand, distancing you further from your escape route.

If you were scared of Black Mask, you were terrified of Red Robin. Or at least, this state of him. You’d never noticed before how the whites of his mask looked like headlights, barreling towards a sundered deer. With whatever cognition you had left, your uninjured hand reached for the dagger in your boot, but you were slow and he wasn’t feeling gracious. He grabbed your wrist with one hand, pinning it next to your shoulder, and with the other he jerked you forward by your collar.

A glimpse of metal hanging on your neck made his scowl deepen and you winced for whatever he would throw at you next. But instead of a punch or getting hit with a blunt object, you felt the release of pressure when he snapped the dainty silver chain from you.

“Where did you get this?” he barked. There was something off about the way he said it, untethered. The necklace in question wasn’t something controversial; a chain with a pendant Tim had inscribed with his initials next to yours.

It wasn’t particularly valuable, nothing anyone would steal, but it meant something untouchable to you. Exactly eight months into dating he told you he loved you for the first time and presented you with it. The letters were rough around the edges from mistakes in sanding and carving when he etched the metal for you himself. And now it was being dangled in front of you, a reminder of all you could stand to lose if things went wrong. So easily snatched from you, as if they never belonged in the first place.

“Give it back.” You moved to sweep your leg under his feet, kick him, whatever you could to get it back and get out. It wasn’t fair in the slightest, he should know it wasn’t something to steal. But he just tightened his grip on your wrist and kneed your ribs once hard enough for you to keel over and stop moving.

“Where did you get this?” His anger was building, you could hear, but you didn’t care much anymore. He didn’t have the right.

“It’s mine,” you spat through gritted teeth.

“Liar.” A pang of confusion hit you, as if this were something to lie about. He was in your face now, and you glared back behind your own mask. If he didn’t back off soon you had half a resolve to bite his nose off. “What did you do to the owner? This is your last chance.”

Like Red Robin could do anything to you. You felt like a dog backed into a corner, sure enough. But upper hand or not, no one wins in a fight against a rabid dog, even if you manage to put it down.

“And I’m telling you for the last time, it’s mine.” But if you get put down, you can’t crawl back. The courage behind your words was starting to sound like desperation. “My boyfriend gave it to me and you need to give it back.”

And then your resolve was gone altogether, a plea more than a demand, for absolution. Your voice quivered on the last few words, maybe it was for the better, it seemed like that was the only part he heard anyway.

The blood in your wrist started flowing again as he let go of it, looking at you with something akin to terror. Swallowing lead, you considered taking the chance to run; rip the sleeve that was caught and book it. But something held you there, vulnerability? Or some deviant of the terror he was feeling. Your legs wouldn’t move now.

He was slow in reaching for your mask. You must’ve been slower, because you didn’t stop him. You couldn’t do anything at all, not with the way your heart was pounding in your ears. Everything in you was screaming all at once, but you couldn’t understand a thing they were saying and it was getting hard to breathe.

You squinted to adjust your vision once the mask was off, and something wet slid down your cheek. Dust must’ve gotten under the thing, you weren’t one to cry.

“Y/N?” He’d caught you and you let it happen. You heard the chain clink on the floor, and you were so sorry to Tim that you let it happen. Soiled something he put time into. Maybe it was fitting, you always took that boy for granted.

You flinched when he reached for you, pressing your eyes shut. But Red Robin didn’t cuff you like you expected. Knock you out, threaten you, chain you to a street lamp outside for the police to collect. Instead you felt arms wrap around you, hefty and secure, a welcoming warmth in juxtaposition to the cold, stagnant office air. And you knew these arms, and you knew this feeling, and you knew this scent.

“Tim?” It came out like a squeak, you didn’t intend that.

And then his head was buried in your shoulder again, his spot as it’d always been. “I thought someone took you.”

He took the liberty of freeing you from the wall first, and you dropped to the floor. Your knees felt like jello. It made sense, some of it. The late nights and the injuries.

“Without a ransom note?” you murmured. You didn’t know what else to say. It’d been Tim the whole time.

“Don’t joke.” He knelt beside you, tucking a stray strand behind your ear. After the shock, the guilt came barreling in. You caused his injuries. You got in his way. You ran away without saying anything. You’d been hurting him the whole time.

“I’m sorry.” You squeaked for the second time. After the guilt was the confliction. You didn’t know to do. Half reaching for him, half shying away.

So Tim grabbed your hands, stilling you completely with just that. He pulled a strip of cloth out of his belt to wrap around the palm he cut moments before. It was shallow, nothing that would scar.

He was probably as confused as you were, quiet to sort out the events as they’d unfolded— and the before. There was a lot to ask and a lot to explain, you wouldn’t know where to start. And if you did start, you didn’t know if you could stop. It was too much. You were tired. There were time constraints. The first bit of reality slipped itself into your mind, the two of you weren’t the only two in the world and you were here on a job. “Please don’t ask, I’ll tell you when I have the heart but please don’t ask. I might cry. I’m sorry.”

“You’re already crying.” His thumbs brushed your tears away as if just to prove it. But they stayed after, running the pad of his fingers over your cheeks for as long as you’d let him. A soothing pattern.

“Am I? I’m sorry.” Your eyes were locked onto him, and you knew he was looking back even if his eyes weren’t visible. The longer you stared, the more the tears seemed to flow. And you couldn’t fathom why you were crying.

“For what?” He said it as if nothing were wrong, and that’s all it took for the dam to burst. Flinging your arms around him to cry your worth into his shoulders. You didn’t deserve this boy.

“I love you,” you sobbed.

“I love you more,” he answered.

[vinamari]

How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

[spectorgram]

FAN BEHAVIOR

characters: dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake summary: batboys with a celebrity! reader content/warnings: fem! reader, fluff

DICK GRAYSON

You’re an actress who has had a meteoric rise, moving from doing small, one-off parts in TV shows to becoming a breakout star on a particularly popular series to being cast in major movie productions

Your stardom is still a little surreal to you and when you’re invited to a wayne enterprise charity gala, you contemplate not going — what business do you have being somewhere with people far more famous than you? But when you tell your agent this, she gives you a look that says you’re insane for even considering declining

You’ll forever be grateful that she urged you to do so because that’s where you meet Dick

He’s standing with Bruce Wayne, chatting with some frequent donors, dressed in a perfectly-tailored navy blue suit when he sees you out of the corner of his eye and he lights up. He approaches you first with that megawatt smile and introduces himself with an extended hand and says, “I’m a huge fan! I’ve been watching your stuff since you were in Legends of the Kingdom!” And the rest is history

Dick goes to every red carpet event you invite him to and he makes it a point to attend every private premiere screening and public opening night

He definitely shushes anyone who talks during your movies or TV shows and does not care if people think he’s obnoxious.

You’re definitely the ‘it couple’ and your faces are plastered constantly on magazine covers and two-page spreads

There are people who try to sow discord in your relationship and their go-to is either pointing out how different you are to Dick’s former girlfriends; that you’re not his type, that this isn’t going to last, etc., or that you’re not talented enough for the fame you have or to be dating Dick Grayson

It definitely gets to you and does nothing to whatever lingering imposter syndrome you harbor but Dick is such a grounding force, reminding you that it’s all just noise and that he loves you completely and unconditionally

At home, he likes to rewind your scenes in shows and movies, and it flatters you as much as it flusters you

He also likes to read through scripts with you when he can and his voices for the various other characters bring you to tears from laughter 

So many intentional and unintentional thirst trap couples pics. Like, a selfie you post one morning — Dick is shirtless and you’re in one of his old t-shirts and its sliding down your shoulder and showing your collarbone and you’re both laying on your stomachs in your shared bed, hair sleep (and sex) tousled with the morning sun making both of you look like you’re golden and glowing 

JASON TODD

You meet Jason as Red Hood first when you’re running from the paparazzi but you don’t know it’s him

They chase you down a couple of blocks before someone tugs you into an alleyway and you’re about to scream for help when you see who it is. Red Hood shields you as the paparazzi pass and when you ask him why he helped you, he simply says, “I hate the paps and you looked like you needed a hand.”

Once he’s sure the coast is clear, he walks you back to your hotel using the back alleys of Gotham. You make several attempts to strike a conversation up with him in the first few minutes of your walk but what seems to catch his interest is when you start rambling on about just finishing Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. 

You’re disappointed when you arrive at your hotel and you’re rush inside to find a pad to scribble your number on but he’s gone when you return, disappearing into the night

It’s by chance that you meet him again (unbeknownst to you), this time in his civilian identity as Jason Todd. You’re in disguise at a bookstore in Gotham when you bump into him and spill his iced coffee all over both of you, apologizing profusely and offering to buy him another drink, which he accepts. (His voice is oddly familiar to you but you can’t put your finger on why) 

You two keep in touch and start dating privately. The long-distance is difficult at times given your very different and busy schedules and Jason is pretty cagey about what he does but you both make time for each other as much as possible

He tells you that he listens to your music during his workouts and in the background while he’s doing stuff around his apartment. He hums along too.

He recommends your songs to anyone who listens, which raises suspicions in the Batfam, and it obviously doesn’t take long for them to figure out that he’s dating you but he makes them promise to keep it to themselves. 

Whenever you have a concert in Gotham, which you make a point to do frequently, Jason is in the VIP box, bobbing his head and mouthing along to your songs. When it ends, he’s right there backstage with flowers and a thermos of tea for your throat

Your relationship goes public when fans capture of video of you two leaving one of your concerts together, Jason’s leather jacket draped over your shoulders

You eventually move to Gotham to be closer to him and the two of you spend every free moment either of you have together, making up for lost time. 

You still try to keep your relationship as private as possible but fans eat up any crumbs they get, including the occasional selfie of you both 

He is your biggest inspiration for songs and also your biggest help. You love bouncing ideas off of him and he likes sitting with you when you pick at your guitar strings and mumble a half-formed melody

(You eventually do find out that he’s Red Hood when he tumbles through the window of your bedroom, bleeding profusely, and you have to take his helmet off to assess the damage)

TIM DRAKE

You’ve known Tim since you were kids given that your parents ran in the same social circles

You started out as a child model in department store clothing catalogs. Tim did some shoots with you too but while his parents eventually stopped auditioning him for such jobs, you continued until the present day, and you’re now a well-known supermodel 

You two have been friends forever and the internet laps up your interactions together. There are compilations of videos and photos of the two of you at banquets and red carpet events and memes with text like “when will someone look at me like that?”

Before you two even started dating, there were articles about a supposed romance and sexual tension between you two. In interviews, you would vehemently deny anything asked about it and reiterate that you two are just good friends

At some point, however, you start seeing your childhood friend in a different light. He’s kind, brilliant, funny, attentive, and very handsome. It’s not that you didn’t know that before but it’s different now. You find yourself shying away his casual touches and suddenly conscious of your actions around him — did you laugh too loud? Is your hair in your face? Does he know how you feel? Can he tell?

You don’t want to ruin your friendship, as cliche as it sounds, so you did your best to keep your feelings under wraps, which resulted in you distancing yourself. When Tim would text to congratulate you on your latest Vogue cover or runway show, you would simply shoot a simple ‘thanks!’ text back instead of the usual ‘THANK U’ followed by five heart emojis. 

He confronts you about it one day and you’ve never really been a good liar in front of him so you tell him, bracing for a gentle rejection but instead receiving a kiss. 

You made a hard launch post with him on Instagram and received hundreds of DMs of people saying they were vindicated in believing that “friends don’t look at each other like that”

Tim is in the front row at every single runway show you have, dressed impeccably in an expensive suit. He takes pictures of you and visits you backstage with your favorite sweet treat.

After fashion shows and other events, you return to his apartment to let your hair down and put your feet up. You do your skincare routines together, sheet face mask and all, and snuggle on the couch for some TV or just to hang out and talk endlessly

You’re very active on social media with him and you two have a lot of couples posts together. When you both have time, you do Instagram lives where people watch you two make dinner together or answer some questions from viewers. A fan favorite is when you choose outfits for each other.

During a runway, you blow a kiss at Tim in the audience and the camera zooms in on his face, where he just watches you with a lovestruck expression and bright red ears — it’s in almost every video compilation that’s titled something like ‘15 minutes of Tim Drake being a simp’

[kitkatscabinet]

SNUGGLE BUG

Summary: The boys try to get out of bed, their partner has other plans.

Pairing(s): Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, x reader

A/N: unedited

DICK GRAYSON

Dick's always been a physically affectionate person, far more so than the rest of his family. It's why he'd been so ecstatic when he'd found you, a partner that was just as, if not more affectionate than him.

On more than one occasion his siblings had been given front-row seats to the snuggle show when they broke into his apartment, served them right really.

What Dick hadn't accounted for, was just how difficult it was to peel himself from your arms in the morning. Torture would hurt less he's sure.

"Ten more minutes," you whined childishly, burrowing your face into Dick's bare shoulder, tightening your arms around his torso.

"We've already said that three times." Your partner laughed, wriggling out of your hold but with far less strength than you knew he was capable of.

Both of you were fully aware just how quickly he could extracate himself from your arms should the neccessity rise. Technically speaking he did have to go to work, but surely it couldn't hurt to be a little late?

Though a quick glance at the hello kitty alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed he was already late.

"Dickie, can't you just call in? I wanna cuddle."

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

It wasn't like he really needed the money anyway.

His boss's ire is worth it to feel the way you smile into the skin of his neck, your warm breaths and little laughs as you lay tangled together.

So worth it.

JASON TODD

"You planning on letting me go anytime soon?" Jason grunted, though you know him well enough to hear the smile he's attempting to hide.

"Never," you mumble into the skin between his broad shoulder blades, the mattress slouching beneath the combined weight of you and your boyfriend.

Jason, undeterred by your attempts to drag him down, stands with a grunt. A cracking noise you know to be his knees rings out, and though you feel a little bad, you're unwilling to back down in your quest to get him back into bed.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is built like a brick shithouse and is just as stubborn as you. Slowly, he manouevers around your small apartment all the while you hang off his back like a drunken Koala.

"Babyyyy," you whine petulantly into his ear, arms tightening around his neck in an attempt to only slightly choke him into submission.

Sighing, Jason starts to wander back into the bedroom. Just when you think you've won, he spins around, falling backwards onto the mattress and crushing you beneath his bulk.

In the minutes you spend winded, recovering, from being squished like an ant, Jason makes his escape. When you finally manage to come back to yourself you notice something incredibly distressing.

"Clothes! Why are you wearing clothes!" you wailed, sliding off the mattress and onto the floor in a pathetic slump.

Despite himself, Jason smiles at the sight, bundling you up in his arms before hopping back into bed with you. "Ok, you big dramatic baby."

Hey may have sounded put out, but the both of you knew he wanted to cuddle just as much. Besides, nothing was as important to him as you.

TIM DRAKE

He’d tried to be quiet. Truly, with years of training in the art of stealth Tim had intended to simply slip out of the bed and leave you to the sleep you needed.

He’d almost made it, both feet on the floor and the mattress no longer bearing most of his weight when all of a sudden a hand darted out, grasping his wrist.

Tim froze, slowly turning to look down at you with wide, guilty eyes. You're glaring up at him, sleep-addled face far more adorable than threatening, not that he'd ever tell you that, for fear of getting his ass beat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" your voice is hoarse and gravelly from sleep but the threat is evident.

Mouth suddenly dry, Tim awkwardly chuckles, "Oh, babe, you're awake."

"Thanks to you," you grumbled sleepily, guilt and fear in equal measurements settling heavily in his chest.

"M'sorry, tried not to wake you but I gotta get to work on this case."

"No." You grunted, wrapping your arms around Tim's waist with freakish speed, nuzzling your face into his side.

He can't help the way his heart skips several beats at your casual affection. Tim's always been starved for touch, for the soft loving touch that you've always provided as if its as natural as breathing.

He should be used to it but despite the years worth of love and affection you've poured into Tim in the time you've spent together he still hasn't acclimated.

Tim knows, that you know, just how weak to your touch he is. It still doesn't prevent his resolve from crumbling when you refuse to let him budge, tugging him back down into your warm embrace.

"Good boy," you murmur against the skin of his neck, wrapping around his back like an octopus and trapping him against the expanse of your chest.

His skin runs hot at your words, mind numb to anything that's not your touch as he's eventually lulled back to sleep to the soothing sounds of your breathing.

[i-yap]

Batboys x reader- call in the middle of s*x

no minors read this pls

Dick grayson

CHEEKY TEASING PIECE OF SH*T this man is. Will calmly lift his face from your neck to grab the phone on the bedside table. "babyyy* y/n groan mad that he would stop. Oh she wishes he would stop. Because dick put the speaker phone on, kept the phone beside her face and continued to rail her. And she swears he got faster. "you don't want them hearing you do you sweetie? don't want them to know you're a whore right? you'll be good wont you?" he whispers. Somehow all this isn't affecting how he is talking on the call. his voice steady and friendly, but you can tell its hard for him too with the way his hand grips you tighter and his hips stutter.

Jason

Gets mad. how dare someone take away his moment of enlightenment, or joy, or ...ugh he cant even put it in words. has he not suffered enough? will growl and throw the phone against the wall smashing it completely. you let out a yelp in shock your eyes widening in fear which he quickly shuhses holding you face in his hands with gentleness that makes u think u hallucinated the aggression just second ago. slowly rocks into you kissing you slowly as if lulling you back into bliss.

Tim

didnt even realize. You have to tug his hair away from your breasts.."t-tim the phone" you point out "hm?" he is too far gone to register anything..too pussy drunk to think straight.."tim!" you say firmer, " ill call them back" he mumbles. not even the annoying ring of his phone can snap him away from you.

Bruce

groans before siting up to take the call still gently rocking into you. but unlike dick he isn't being mean about it. "bruceee" you whine clawing at his abdomen "pleaseee" you nearly sob. he's teased you enough before this( always does some form of foreplay and usually a lengthy one- usually denial rather than overstimulation) I places his finger to his lip to tell u to shush. Grunt as he talks over the call, will clamp his hand down over you mouth if you make too much noise

[ahqkas]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with having a s/o who doesn’t know they have hero identities yet and they find out s/o has some merch of their hero side at their house? S/o just thinks that heroes neat and uses one of the figures as a door stopper so the door does not slam when it’s windy and the windows open or paper weight for important paperwork so it doesn’t go flying everywhere?

♯SECRETS WE KEEP CLOSE TO OUR HEARTS

— gn!reader, kinda based it of the stuff i own !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

IT STARTED OUT LIKE ANY OTHER MORNING AT WAYNE MANOR. the first rays of sunshine peeked through the heavy curtains of bruce’s grand bedroom, the golden light pooling across the floor. you shuffled out of bed, your feet cold against the hardwood, and grabbed the nearest hoodie to ward off the chill. you’ve never been a morning bird. but what would change it now?

unbeknownst to you, bruce was already awake, freshly showered and shaved, nursing a steaming cup of coffee alfred made for him in the kitchen. he was going over the morning’s headlines of the gotham gazette when he heard your light footsteps approaching. a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. mornings like this—quiet, unhurried—were rare but cherished.

“morning,” you greeted, still groggy as you walked into the kitchen.

“morning,” he replied, glancing up from the paper. the casual warmth in his voice faltered the moment his eyes landed on your figure.

you were wearing that hoodie. black, oversized, and emblazoned with a bright yellow bat-symbol on the front. he recognized it immediately—he’d seen it on display in some tacky downtown gotham shop months ago. he’d even scoffed at the inaccuracies back then, not expecting you to own one, let alone wear it. and now you were draped in his merch.

bruce blinked, caught off guard, but quickly schooled his expression back into neutrality. “what are you wearing?” ( curiosity on the outside , panic on the inside ) . what if you knew of his nighttime activities?

glancing down at yourself and your choice of clothing, you tugged at the hem absentmindedly. “oh, this? yeah, i love it. it’s super comfy. got it on sale a while back.”

“you’re a fan of batman?”

you gave him a curious look. “who isn’t? he’s gotham’s hero. besides, the bat-symbol looks pretty cool.” you shrugged, heading to the coffee maker. “though i guess it’s a little weird wearing merch of someone who’s technically, like, a crime boss for good.”

bruce choked on his coffee, barely masking it with a cough. “crime boss?”

“well, think about it,” you teased, pouring yourself a mug of the dark liquid. “he’s got henchmen—like robin and nightwing—and a lair filled with gadgets. he’s just . . . on the good side.”

the batman fought the urge to laugh. he leaned back in his chair, observing you with a mix of affection and amusement. who knew he had such a lovie around his finger? “that’s one way to look at it,” he replied smoothly, though he couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride.

you turned, leaning against the counter, and sipped your coffee. “why? you don’t like him?”

his brows arched, genuinely curious. “what makes you say that?”

“you’re awfully neutral about the guy for someone who lives in gotham. most people either think he’s amazing or a total menace. you’re, like, switzerland on batman,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“let’s just say . . . i have a unique perspective.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE LAZY AFTERNOONS WHERE THE TWO OF YOU HAD DECIDED TO STAY IN. the sun filtered through the curtains of your cozy apartment, casting warm, golden light across the room as you lay curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, while dick was sprawled in an armchair across from you, pretending to do his own stuff at his phone but mostly watching you with a soft smile tugging at his lips.

everything was perfectly normal—until he noticed what you were wearing.

it was a t-shirt, oversized and clearly one of your go-to comfy options. but not just any shirt. emblazoned across the chest was the bold, angular symbol of nightwing, printed in that unmistakable electric blue. now that got his attention.

dick blinked, lowering the glowing screen slightly to get a better look at you. for a moment, he felt a mix of pride, amusement, and sheer panic wash over him. you had nightwing merch? did you know? were you teasing him? or had you just picked it up as a casual fan of blüdhaven’s vigilante? there were so many questions but so little answers.

“nice shirt,” he commented casually, though his voice had an edge of curiosity, asking you with saying the question out loud.

you glanced up, oblivious to his sudden attention. “oh, this?” you plucked at the hem and grinned. “yeah, i thought it was cool. i found it at this little street market the other day. plus, the guy’s kinda awesome, you know?”

he quirked a brow, trying not to look too amused. “kinda awesome?”

“okay, really awesome,” you gave in with a laugh. “i mean, he’s out there keeping blüdhaven from going completely off the rails. and unlike some other heroes, he doesn’t have a million-dollar budget or fancy gadgets. he just . . . handles it.”

your boyfriend leaned back in the plush chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “sounds like you’re a pretty big fan.” talk about narcissism.

“well, yeah, who wouldn’t be? he’s smart, agile, and has a heart. plus, have you seen his—” you caught yourself, suddenly looking flustered and with a good reason. you were caught ranting to your boyfriend about nightwing.

“seen his what?” dick was intrigued even more now after your little slip up, leaning forward with his smirk deepening. oh, he was just starting.

you waved a hand dismissively, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “nothing. forget i said anything.”

“uh-huh. sure. so, did you pick that shirt just because you’re a fan, or . . . ?”

you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at his suspiciously amused tone. “what’s with the third degree, grayson? are you jealous or something?”

“me? jealous of a guy in spandex? never,” he replied with mock indignation. but the way his lips twitched betrayed his amusement—and the fact that he was having way too much fun with this.

“good,” you teased, leaning back into the pillows. “because if i ever run into him, i’ll totally make sure to tell him my boyfriend is completely secure and not at all threatened by a superhero.”

dick laughed, shaking his head a little. “oh, i’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.”

seeing you in his symbol was both endearing and a little surreal. part of him wanted to come clean right then and there, to tell you that the guy you admired so much was sitting right across from you, teasing you about your t-shirt. but for now, he decided to keep his secret.

still, as he watched you lounge in that nightwing tee, a soft warmth bloomed in his chest. if you only knew the truth, he had a feeling you’d still think he was kind of awesome—though he wasn’t sure you’d ever let him live down the spandex comments.

. . . JASON TODD !

IT WAS A BREEZY SATURDAY AFTERNOON, and the windows of your small apartment were wide open, letting the crisp, cool air in. papers were strewn across your desk as you worked on sorting through bills and notes. to keep the occasional gust from scattering everything, you’d grabbed the closest thing you could find—an action figure.

( not just any action figure, though. )

sitting proudly on top a stack of papers was a small, highly detailed replica of gotham’s infamous red hood, complete with his signature leather jacket, red helmet, and pistols. even the little red bat on his chest matched the original.

your boyfriend walked in, carrying takeout bags in both hands as he kicked the front door shut behind him, his boots making soft thuds against the floor. “babe, i got—” he froze mid-sentence when he spotted the figure perched on your desk. his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, trying to process the absurdity of the situation.

no fucking way.

“is that . . . ?”

you glanced up briefly, barely registering his confusion. “huh?”

he set the bags down on the counter, crossed the room in a few strides, and picked up the small figurine. jason held it up, examining it with an almost comical mix of horror and amusement on his face.

“this,” he said, gesturing to the action figure like it had personally offended him, “is red hood merch.”

“yeah, and?” you replied nonchalantly, not looking up from your stack of papers.

“and?” he repeated, incredulous. “why do you even have this? do you collect vigilante merch or something?”

“no, i just saw it at some random shop a while ago. i thought it looked cool, so i bought it. plus, he’s kind of a badass.”

jason blinked, caught between pride and disbelief. “you think he’s a badass?”

“yeah, don’t you?” you finally looked up at him. lips curving into a teasing smile. “what, are you jealous of a figurine now?”

his jaw ticked, his expression unreadable as he turned the figure over in his hands. “jealous? no,” he muttered, though the tightness in his voice suggested otherwise. “i just think it’s funny that you’re using this to keep your papers from flying out the window. kind of disrespectful to the guy, don’t you think?”

you laughed. “oh, please. i’m sure gotham’s notorious anti-hero doesn’t care if his likeness is helping me with my paperwork. honestly, he should feel honored.”

“honored?” jason echoed, his lips twitching into a smirk despite himself. “yeah, i’m sure that’s exactly what he’d feel.”

you leaned back in your chair, watching him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what’s with the attitude? are you secretly a red hood fanboy or something?”

he rolled his eyes, setting the figure back down on your desk—albeit more carefully than he’d picked it up. “oh, yeah, totally. i’ve got a whole shrine dedicated to him at home.”

“hm, i bet you do,” you teased, grinning as you watched him retreat to unpack the takeout.

jason shook his head, his smirk lingering as he pulled out the food. internally, he was debating how to feel about the whole situation. on one hand, the fact that you admired red hood (even if you didn’t know it was him) was oddly flattering. on the other, the sight of his miniature self keeping your papers in line was downright hilarious.

as he set the table, he couldn’t resist throwing a final jab over his shoulder. “just saying, if you’re such a big fan, you should probably treat him with more respect. maybe let him do something cooler than babysit your bills.”

“oh, relax,” you shot back, laughing. “if he has a problem, he can come tell me himself.”

jason snorted, shaking his head as he brought the plates over. “careful what you wish for, babe.”

don’t be surprised when red hood comes knocking on your door, sweetheart!

. . . TIM DRAKE !

THE NIGHT WAS CLOSING IN and tim was stretched out on your couch in your apartment, his phone resting on his lap as we tiredly watched the tv. the soft hum of the crime documentary filled the background as you dug through your bag by the door, fishing around for your keys.

“found them!” you declared, holding them up triumphantly.

tim glanced over with a small smile tugging at his lips. you were adorable like this, excited over the smallest things. “that’s a lot of enthusiasm for finding keys.”

you walked over, jingling the keyring in the process. “it’s not about the keys, it’s about this little guy.”

you held up the ring, pointing specifically at a tiny lego figure hanging off of it. the miniature figure wore a domino mask and a red-and-black suit with a yellow “R” emblazoned on the chest—a miniature red robin.

your boyfriend froze on the spot. his brain seemed to hit a wall as he stared at the tiny version of himself dangling from your keys. the little figure swayed slightly, as though mocking him.

“ . . . where did you get that?”

“oh, isn’t it cute?” you beamed, completely unaware of his internal crisis. “i found it in one of those comic stores a while back. thought it’d make a perfect keychain. and it has! look at him, so heroic, guarding my keys.”

tim blinked, unsure whether to laugh or groan. heroic? lego him? guarding your keys?

“you’re a fan of red robin?” he asked carefully, tilting his head.

you shrugged, plopping down onto the spot on the couch beside him, immediately leaning into his warmth. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s kind of underrated, though, don’t you think?”

“underrated?”

“yeah!” you set the keys on the coffee table and turned to him. “i mean, everyone talks about batman and nightwing—and robin, obviously—but red robin? he’s like . . . the smart one. the strategic one. he deserves more credit, you know?”

tim raised an eyebrow, trying not to look too smug. “so, he’s your favorite, then?”

“mmm,” you pretended to consider. “he’s up there. though nightwing’s a close second. sorry, but the guy’s got moves.”

he snorted, leaning back against the couch. “can’t argue with that.”

“but red robin’s, like, the total package,” you continued, gesturing animatedly. “he’s clever, he’s got that whole detective thing going on, and he doesn’t get as much attention, so he’s probably not as cocky as some of the others.”

your hero boyfriend choked on his laugh. “not as cocky?”

“yeah, he strikes me as humble, you know?” you leaned forward, picking up the keychain again and holding it up like it was a sacred artifact. “plus, he’s got great taste in suits. red and black? iconic.”

tim bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep a straight face. “so you carry him around everywhere?”

“of course,” you said, grinning. “he’s like my little sidekick. protects my keys from danger. well, mostly from me losing them, but still.”

he shook his head, unable to hide his smile anymore. “you’re something else, you know that?”

part of him wanted to tell you right then and there that the figure you adored so much was literally him—but there was something too sweet, too hilarious about the situation to ruin it just yet. besides, you looked genuinely happy talking about red robin, and he kind of liked seeing himself through your eyes, even if you didn’t know it. he made a silent vow to tell you the truth soon. but for now, he let you keep your little lego protector, amused and endeared by the fact that you unknowingly carried a tiny version of him wherever you went.

[super-marvel-dc]

Bruce: Stressed.

Dick: Depressed.

Damian: Possessed.

Tim: Obsessed.

Y/N: Impressed.

Jason: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Jason: I just wanted to join in.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “WHY ARE YOU CRYING LAIN.” ── .✦ ( what it takes for batboys to cry about their s/o btw I don’t see this as angst!reader but I’m writing a angst fic soon!! )

a/n: this is a request by (here) anyways 620 followers under a month?!?! What the hell tysmm this was shocking to wake up to anywayss um yeah here, I genuinely think this was like only a general hcs of what only batboys cry over but I turned it into like a s/o hc too so sorry tags: ( batboys x s/o )

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Losing You, Even Momentarily: Dick is the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the idea of losing you whether you’re hurt, missing, or even distant emotionally breaks him in ways he doesn’t know how to hide. If you were ever critically injured during a mission or got caught in the crossfire or a health scare, he’d hold you in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he begs, “Don’t you dare leave me. I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me.”

When You’re Hurt Emotionally: Dick is empathetic to his core. If he ever caught you crying, struggling silently, or feeling like you couldn’t talk to him, he’d break down too. “Why didn’t you come to me? You’re not alone—you’re never alone.” His voice would crack as he hugs you, feeling helpless because he wants to fix it but doesn’t know how.

A Fight That Goes Too Far: Dick hates arguing, but sometimes even he loses control. If words were exchanged that hurt you, he’d cry after you left, clutching his face in his hands because he knows he messed up. He’d spend the entire night trying to fix it because the thought of you being upset because of him kills him. (He has a bit of people pleasing tendencies like me 😭)

JASON TODD ── .✦

Thinking He Doesn’t Deserve You: Jason has deep-seated feelings of unworthiness, and if he ever felt like you deserved better or like you might leave because he’s “too broken,” he’d quietly lose it. You’d find him sitting on the edge of the bed, tears in his eyes as he mutters, “Why are you even with me? I don’t want to ruin you too.”

You in Danger: Jason prides himself on protecting the people he loves, but if there were ever a moment where he couldn’t save you where you were hurt or out of his reach he’d shatter. Holding your unconscious body, he’d whisper through gritted teeth and tears, “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m sorry—I should’ve been faster. Stronger.”

Fighting and Losing Control: Jason fears becoming the worst version of himself. If you ever fought and he lost his temper, saying something he didn’t mean, he’d be crushed afterward. He’d cry silently in his room, replaying the fight over and over in his head, scared you wouldn’t forgive him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

You Pulling Away: Tim doesn’t always know how to balance his work and love for you. If he noticed you drifting away or feeling neglected because of his vigilante life, he’d hit a breaking point. One night, he’d find himself sitting alone, staring at his phone, tears silently falling as he whispers, “I don’t want to lose you. I’ll do better—I promise.”

When You’re in Pain: Tim’s logical brain often protects him from his emotions, but seeing you in pain—physically or emotionally would be his undoing. He’d try to keep it together for you, but once he’s alone, he’d sit at his desk, head in his hands as sobs wrack his body because he hates seeing the person he loves suffer.

If You’re Gone (Even Temporarily): If you ever went missing or were presumed dead, Tim would break in ways no one else would see. He’d bury himself in work, desperately trying to find you, but in the quiet hours, he’d collapse on the floor surrounded by papers and maps, tears streaming down his face as he murmurs, “Please come back to me. Please.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Failing to Protect You: Damian is fiercely protective of the people he loves, and if you were ever hurt on his watch, it would destroy him. He’d stay at your bedside, barely speaking, but his tears would fall silently as he holds your hand and says, “You are strong so much stronger than me. I am sorry I let this happen.”

Realizing You’re Hurt by Him: Damian doesn’t always know how to express himself, and if he ever unintentionally hurt you—through sharp words or coldness—he’d crumble. He’d isolate himself, his back to the door as he mutters to himself, “I am unworthy of their love. I am no better than the monsters I fight.”

If You Were Gone: Damian doesn’t cry easily, but if he lost you, he’d lock himself away for days. No one would hear his sobs as he grips something of yours—a sweater, a necklace and whispers, “I failed you. I should have been stronger. I would trade anything to bring you back.”

GENERAL ( WITHOUT LOSING YOU OR GETTING HURT YK? ) ── .✦

Dick: He’d cry watching you do something incredibly mundane—like laughing at a joke or helping a stranger because he realizes how lucky he is to have you. The thought of a life without you, even for a second, shakes him to his core.

Jason: He’d cry when he thinks about how you’ve accepted him so completely. “You don’t look at me like I’m broken,” he’d say through tears, pulling you into a hug. “You love me. No one’s ever loved me like this before.”

Tim: He’d cry in relief after a near-miss—maybe you were almost hurt on patrol, but you’re okay. He’d break down in your arms, holding you tightly. “I can’t lose you. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

Damian: He’d cry quietly while watching you sleep, overwhelmed by how much he loves you. He’d brush your hair from your face and murmur, “You are my heart, beloved. Without you, I would have none.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The Fear of Losing You: Bruce has already lost so much his parents, allies, and people he couldn’t save. If you were ever gravely injured or put in harm’s way, he’d be stoic at first, tending to your wounds or making sure you’re stable. But when the danger is over and he’s alone, the walls would finally break. He’d sit in the Batcave, hands trembling, staring at the blood on his gloves and whispering, “I can’t lose you too. I couldn’t survive that.” His tears would fall silently because he rarely lets himself cry but for you, the thought of losing you would be unbearable.

When You Break Down First: Bruce is emotionally guarded, but if he ever saw you crying really crying because of something he caused or something he failed to protect you from, it would destroy him. He’d pull you into his arms, his voice shaky as he mutters, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear on everything, I will never let this happen again.” When you’ve fallen asleep, he’d sit beside you, quietly crying to himself because the person he loves more than anything is in pain.

During a Rare, Heated Argument: Bruce doesn’t lose control often, but when he does, his words can cut deep. If a fight escalated to the point where you walked away, leaving him standing there in silence, the guilt would eat him alive. He’d find himself sitting alone in the dark manor, hands in his hair as he whispers, “I can’t believe I let that happen. I promised I’d be better.” He wouldn’t hesitate to apologize immediately, but he’d cry later when he realized how close he came to pushing you away.

Realizing You’re the Light in His Life: Bruce is haunted by his past, and sometimes, the weight of his mission makes him forget the beauty in life. But when he sees you—laughing, smiling, or simply existing—he realizes you are the brightest thing in his world. He wouldn’t cry in front of you, but in a rare, quiet moment alone, he’d sit in his study with tears in his eyes, overwhelmed. “I don’t deserve them. But I won’t let anything happen to them. Ever.”

If You Were Gone: Bruce would completely unravel. He’s already built his life around loss, but you? You were his hope, his reason to believe in something beyond the cowl. Without you, he’d wander the manor like a ghost, sitting by your favorite chair or staring at a photo of you for hours. In the dead of night, when no one is around, he’d finally let himself grieve—hands gripping the edges of a desk, shoulders shaking as he whispers your name like a prayer. (Madonna ref?)

MOMENTS WHERE BRUCE GETS EMOTIONAL ── .✦

Seeing You Safe After a Scare: If you ever came home late or after a dangerous night out, Bruce would hold you tightly, kissing the top of your head and murmuring, “You’re home. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.” His voice would crack slightly, betraying the emotion he tries to hide.

When You Remind Him of His Humanity: Bruce isn’t always good with words, but when you’re there—kissing him goodnight, teasing him about his brooding, or cooking something terribly but with love he remembers what happiness feels like. He’d quietly brush a tear away as he watches you, thinking, “They make this life worth living.”

If You Call Him Out on His Guilt: If Bruce ever tried pushing you away because he thought you’d be safer without him, and you confronted him with a heartfelt speech about loving him no matter what, he’d break. He’d pull you into his arms, tears falling as he whispers, “You don’t know how much you mean to me. I can’t lose you. I need you.”

[mixingandmelting]

You Know Other Men Meme HC

Summary: when he gets randomly jealous while cuddling on the sofa and you tell him he’s the most jealous man you know feat. Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, and Damian

Dick

“You know other men?”

He’s offended. Shocked. Insulted. Disappointed. 

Like who are the other men??? There were other men???

Snaps his head up and looks at you with either eyes that can probably beat Batman’s when he’s angry or the saddest, puppies eyes you’ll ever see on the planet though the grip on your waist says otherwise

Starts questioning you who these “other men” are and goes from wanting their information including address to phone number to since when you started knowing them or where you met them

But when you tell him “I know only one man and it’s you”, he’ll quickly melt - getting all dopey with a silly smile on his face as he peppers kisses all over you

Cuddles into you more though asking for you to look at something else. If not, he’s going have to use a different method to get you to listen ; )

Jason

“Yeah and you better remember it.”

It’s not confidence in himself that makes him say it - rather, it’s knowing that you chose him and would always choose him over anyone else

Like, what is there to compete? All the other guys (cough Bruce and Dick cough) are already sucking it since he’s winning with having you, the best thing in his life

Plus, since you made him yours, you’re stuck with him for eternity whether you like it or not 

Does playfully pull you into a suffocating bear hug, enjoying the warmth of your body seeping into his

Chuckles if you play along and tap his biceps, shoulder, or chest, spouting “uncle”, “I lose”, or something that’ll show you surrender

Gives you a kiss on the lips or cheeks before going back to critic and rate whatever you were looking at earlier

Tim

“You do realize I’m the only man you know?”

Rolls his eyes and pretends your comment isn’t bothering him - after all, knowing you inside and out, there are no “other men” other than him

He’s awful at hiding it though when he starts to nuzzle into the junction where you neck meets your shoulder to hide his disgruntlement

Shuffles and pulls you closer to him, trying to “imprint” himself on you. Whether it’s conscious or subconscious that is yet to be decided

Play with his hair and tell him “yes and you’re the only man I also love” will earn a warm grin from him

That or him hiding his face into your shoulder with the tip of his ears burning red as his Red Robin suit

Either way the arms around you won’t loosen up for a while, going back to cuddling in his embrace. This time with him not minding what you’re looking at making a comment here and there, mostly jabbing at your taste

Duke

“I thought I was your man?”

He’s so confused by what you just said

What do you mean “most jealous man I know” - you know other men??? Is he not your only man???

Literally will start overthinking and confront you on whether you actually have starting seeing people behind his back

Has his head-up with an “excuse me?” written all over, needing to confirm you aren’t hiding anything based on your expression

Only to feel silly and embarrassed when you give him sass e.g., “are you not the only I’m dating?” or “do I look like I have another man besides you?”. Especially if your eyes are deadpan

Poor guy ends up hiding his face, becoming the smaller spoon. Dies but appreciates if you snuggle closer to him and pat him

Damian

“You know other men?”

Does the same thing as Dick but much angrier and more hissing

It’s going to take a while to calm him down especially when he’s ready to end things there and then with plans to also take down and ruin those “other men’s” lives

Listen. You are his and only his. How dare you have other men besides him???

When you tell him “you do realize you are the only person i’m dating?” that gets him to put the katana down

He’ll ask you who these “other men” are and realize they weren’t there from the start. Not when it’s his siblings and father

He just grumbles about how you should’ve said that from start and expect you to go back cuddling with him, head pats and all other expressions of affection to comfort him

Will succumb and completely “forgive” you if you give kiss on the top of his head 

[nosyrobin]

IMAGINE

Tim having you in his lap with you snoring. Tim’s groggy eyes look down at his sleeping friend that so very much clingy. But he can’t help but enjoy their presence, Tim shuffled your head a bit, making sure it doesn’t hurt. You groan, clinging to him more as the workaholic just smile. Taking one of his hands off the keyboard and putting it in the side of your hip. You stopped moving and relaxed, snoring again in his touch. Tim just chuckled, kissing your head before he actually got up. Saving his document of reports, and turning off his computer. He lays down with you still clinging to him. Legs wrapped around the man’s waist as his arms are around you safely. Careful to not touch you inappropriately. As he closed his eyes, he felt you smile in your sleep. Hugging him, it felt comforting enough for him to pass out.

[glamourscat]

It was 3am and you were supposed to be asleep, but after dating TIM DRAKE for almost two years now, you picked up on his weird sleeping patterns. Tonight in particular your brain won’t rest. Not until you will receive his usual post patrol message.

2am, then 2:30, 3 and 3:30am rolls around and your lack of sleep was slowly turning into anxiety. Why hadn’t he texted yet? Did something happened? You try to make sense of the situation, but your brain is refusing from making you think logically. And just as you were about to message him, his message comes through.

“sorry for the late message. had to run in the shower immediately after i arrived home cause i was covered in blood” he texts 

“not mine btw” he follows up, knowing already to clarify. 

“good, good. im glad you’re ok love, i was beginning to worry. what are you doing now then?” you text back, eyes fluttering at the screen waiting for those three dots to appear. But they don’t. In their place a picture appears. 

Him. In front of the mirror. His face covered by his phone, one arm on the sink leaning a bit to flex his muscles and that towel dangerously low, enough to see his v-line and the outline of his hardness against it. Oh….

“damn, drop the towel? 🙂‍↕️🙏🏻”  “for scientific purposes obviously…” you add in two consecutive texts. 

You know it’s unlikely he would do it, but teasing him comes naturally to y— he did it. You cannot even continue your train of thoughts because suddenly his next picture comes through. The towel gone, his pretty cock— and that damn blushy pink tip— staring right back at ya, hard against his stomach. 

You can’t even begin to form a coherent thought  as another picture comes through. 

This time he is on his bed, on his knees— which are open to show the view between his legs— His hungry, leaking, cock is begging to be touched; while his face now—no longer covered by the phone— looks at his phone through the mirror reflection with a knowingly devilish grin. And your mind goes to one thought, and one only, how desperately you wish to have a dick. Because he looks so damn breedable right now. 

“cause I don’t feel like I did it right the first time ;)” he texts back within seconds from sending that second picture. 

“hey…? you still there lol?” he texts back after 10,  long minutes without a reply from you. Did he overstep? Was it too much…?  But then the outdoor camera alerts him of a movement outside his front door. 

“im outside. open me up.”  ________________________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

A/N: I wrote this at 5AM and had the sudden, horny, urge of writing for Tim. Nothing else to add lmao. Also this is not proofread :(

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