#tim drake!robin x reader
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
âBatman, you need to-IS THAT A BABY ?!â - Batfam x Fem!reader
Synopsis : Bruce and Batmom bring their newborn daughter to the Watchtower, so she can meet their friends (or vice versa). Includes an overprotective Damian, League members who cannot believe the Batman is smiling, and other shenanigans. Â
Oop, Iâm back (?). My dudes. Itâs been TWO YEARS since I last posted here. Two. Years. I posted like, two life update...donât know if some of yâall saw it, but long story short : I got married, I have a son now, and everything is going so well in my life that I didnât really need the validation I got from writing online...Buuuuuuuuuuuuut, I still love writing. And so, after quite a long break, here I am :). Hope you will enjoy this, donât hesitate to let me know if you do :Â
Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.
My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives
________________________________________________
âYouâre evil, you know that right ?â You say, raising an eyebrow. Â
âI donât know what youâre talking about, my love.â He answers, a small smile on his lips. You turn to him and...Oh that smug look, that smug look you loved so much. He definitely DEFINITELY knew what he was doing.Â
And that it was utterly...evil.Â
âItâs going to be FUN !âÂ
Ah, and hereâs his little devil. Damian himself. He loved this. Partly because he thought it was funny to mess with everyone, partly because he liked showing that you guys were a family.Â
âThey wonât believe their eyes !â His little voice kept going, followed by a big roar of laughter that sounded, by all means, more childlike than devilish.Â
âThat they wonât, they always seem so surprised when Bruce acts like a human.âÂ
Jason. Still not calling Bruce âdadâ (except sometimes, by âaccidentâ, and even him donât realize he did), heâd only slowly been back at the manor, with all of you. And, for sure, a certain important event which happened about four months ago made it so he came back to live at home.
Dick chuckled and added :Â âWho would blame them ? Weâre talking about a man who eats his burgers with a knife and fork !â He gestured to his father with his left thumb, his other hand shielding part of his mouth as if he was telling them all a secret, as if he was trying to be discreet, so his dad wouldnât hear...Always quite the little clown, that eldest son of yours. With his exaggerated mannerism, and that sparkle in his eyes, in his smile.Â
âIâm certain some of them thought he was genuinely a cyborg for YEARSâ Tim added, quite seriously, his tone the opposite of his older brother (and that was just his way of joking...you think). And honestly ? Yeah, you were pretty sure some of your friends at the JLA thought your husband was a robot, at one point.Â
Oh yes. Thatâs where you were going, to the JLAâs headquarters. To execute Bruceâs plan. Quite the evil plan indeed.Â
âHell, even I thought he was one before I met you guys !â Duke chimed in, and that made Cassandra smile widely, as she shook her head up and down pointing at Duke as if to say :Â âwhat he just saidâ.Â
And in a very Bruce manner, your husband kept a straight face, ignoring his childrenâs teasing. Only you, saw that twinkle in his eyes, that smile that might not reach his mouth, but was definitely dancing in those bright blue eyes.Â
Oh yes. Yes, your friends were in for quite the surprise.Â
************
Meanwhile, in the Justice League headquarters :Â
âOh, hey ! Look, Batmanâs zeta tube is turning on ! We havenât seen him in a while right ?â Â
Indeed they havenât. Because, well, letâs put it this way : Batmanâs wife just had a baby.Â
A baby girl (finally, right ? You and Cass werenât TOO outnumbered anymore).Â
And Batman had been VERY busy doting over his baby girl.Â
Batman had been busy being Bruce Wayne.Â
Just a man, who thought heâd never be happy again, not knowing how to handle all those feelings he had for his wife (for you), for his children.Â
That was happiness then, right ?Â
So, yes. Batman hasnât been much at the JLAâs headquarters lately. But your husband thought, it was finally time to go see his friends a little bit. He knew they were all up there, because it was their monthly reunion (once each month, they gathered to talk about the state of the world, the universe, what threat lingered, what lurked beyond...and to get very drunk, and see their friends, the only ones who knew what it meant to be a âheroâ).Â
And that whatâs made him particularly evil.Â
He knew, they would all be there. He knew what their reaction was going to be. After all, his memory was amazing, he definitely hadnât forgot the way they reacted the first time they saw you, the first time they learned he had children (childrEN, plural !).Â
And he knew they were a little worried about him.Â
He had missed their last three reunions, and only answered : âEverything is okâ to their messages asking if he was alright (they hadnât dared to go see if he was indeed ok, because last time they did that, they found him bed ridden with all the bones in his body broken, and he got so mad at them for butting in his business he worked twice as hard when he was fine again, and didnât talk a WORD for months...that was, of course, years ago, before you were in his life, but the experience was still in their minds and so, they decided to respect his privacy, he would come to them when ready). And he never pushed his âred buttonâ, him, or anyone in the family.Â
They just assumed he was busy, they hoped it wasnât anything bad.Â
Yes. They were worried. For him. For you. For your kids. For Alfred. For your dogs, your cats, your cow...They. Were. Worried.Â
And Bruce knew.Â
You told him, when your pregnancy was confirmed, to tell his friends. That they would be happy. But after his own initial happy thought, his surge of hope and love at knowing he was going to be a dad again, he started to make his plan.Â
Why tell them, when you could toy with them ?Â
âThey deserve it.â He told you, and you werenât sure if they did, but you werenât about to fight him on that. After all, you too, thought it could be amusing. Amusing to hide your pregnancy, making up excuses as to why they couldn't come see you, and you didnât come up the headquarter. Amusing, to even hide it quite expertly from any form of news (Bruce was a MASTER of disguise, not only for himself), so it would be a real surprise.Â
Amusing, to have your little girl in secret, with only your family. Amusing, but also what you wanted. For this good news to be just between you, your children, and Alfred. Your close family. Because you had too few things that just were yours.Â
This had to be yours. Your thing, your secret, your own happiness. Yours, and only yours. And you found it was good, that you guys spend the first few months of your daughterâs life only between yourselves.Â
It was nice, to go out âdisguisedâ as a normal couple, and show your daughter Gotham (and how her little eyes already tried to take the entire world within them).Â
It was nice, to live in total privacy for a little bit.Â
So, yes, you had been a little selfish. And he had, too. You knew it wasnât just to prank his friends, he kept it all a secret. That it was also to have some quality time with his family. To spend the first few months of his daughterâs life being the only one being utterly smitten with her.Â
Though, this last thing wasn't true...You were, too. And your children ? Letâs just say your daughter had not been alone ONCE since she was born. And she seemed to love it.Â
Whenever she made the slightest sound, smiled, laughed (or cried), they were there, Bruce was there, absolutely loving that little baby.Â
She was almost 4 months old now, and Bruce thought that the gist had to be up. What scale did he use to measure this amount of âreadinessâ ? You had no idea. You thought he was just now ready to share his happiness with his friends, and not just his close family.Â
And so here you were, after months of secrecy carefully crafted and orchestrated by your husband, in the JLAâs headquarters, along with your family, the little new addition to said family in your husbandâs arms.Â
Evil. Your husband was downright evil.Â
He knew that what was about to happen would have a massive impact on his friends. He. KNEW.Â
And as the zeta tube brought all your family up there, you knew that as he saw their faces, your husband was a little TOO happy with himself for his little âprankâ.Â
************
âBatman, are you al- IS THAT A BABY ?â Very typical, very in character : the first to react was Flash himself.Â
None of the other noticed, and they seemed inclined to think Barry had lost his mind but then...
Bruceâs face didnât move an inch, he just held that little âpackageâ, and had his same stoic expression except...Except there was a little hand grabbing at his chin.Â
Then another hand appeared out of that bundle Batman carried, with a bat plushie bunched in a tight fist, shaking it and...Cooing.Â
Cute little sounds, and the way- EXCUUUuuUuuuUSE ME ?
The way Batman just softly looked at her, the way his cold expression was replaced by a tender one as he lowered his eyes to her ??
WHAT ?!Â
They knew. They knew he had THE softest spot for his family. They knew his scary aura greatly dimmed when he was around his wife and children. They knew that when they werenât there, he was only made of shadows. They were his light, his salvation.Â
They knew he didnât have the same face expression, when they were around.
Well, when they were looking at him...Barry swore that Batman loomed around his family, standing menacingly behind them, his eyes cold and calculating as if he was ready to fight any seconds to save his loved ones, and then whenever they turned to him his feature would instantly soften. He will ALWAYS remember the first time he met little Dickie, 9 years old and so full of joy and life, and how whenever he would look at Batman and talk to him, said Batman got a softer expression somewhat, but then when Dick turned around, Batman looked about to murder them whenever they came too close from him.Â
Once, Tim, also 9 at the time, years after the JLA met Dick, told Barry matter of factly :Â âHe doesnât kill people. He could break your knee caps thoughâ in a very Tim fashion. The kid was serious. And had noticed the aura surrounding his dad, how it changed when he was around (he noticed more than his siblings, because for a while, Bruce had been really cold and distant with him, since he met him not long after Jasonâs death..understandable. So he was the only one who had this sort of behavior aimed at him, the shield Bruce put in front of him to keep everyone away so he wouldnât be hurt, the shield that now was lowered for them and only them).Â
It was his eyes. His eyes that were always hard and cold, became different when looking at you or his children.Â
Not to say that his family never exasperated him, or that he never had his âmaskâ around them. After all, Bruceâs stoic expression was his face by default. Itâs just that he was often too focused. And that he spend years practicing hiding his emotions, practicing keeping a blank face. Because Barry also remembered seeing Dick perched on his fatherâs shoulders, letting himself dangle in his back, his head upside down, whistling and kicking his feet, and Bruce having this stoic mask on, concentrated.Â
Anyway, they knew all that. It had been years, since Bruce finally trusted them enough to bring his wife here, and his kids. But yet, yet they were still surprised sometimes.
Like today.Â
The picture of Batman holding a baby was...a little weird.Â
Even if he opened up to them over the years, he was still mostly very cold, distant and aloof. You know, Batman. Thatâs just who he was. So sometimes, to see him so devoted to his wife or kids, it was odd to say the least.Â
And right now, as he walked towards them with a baby in his arms, the shock was real. Damn it, will there be a day when the Bat didnât surprise them with something ?Â
How did none of them notice you were pregnant ? Proof again Batman was a master of his craft. And that little girl...
Oh your daughter was such a beaming ray of sunshine, that in his arms it was particularly a jarring image.Â
The big scary bat, tall, broad shouldered, muscular in every way, his face void of expressions, holding a tiny baby who kept smiling at everyone around, and playing with her plushy.Â
Odd.Â
Yet, sweet.Â
Were they surprised ? Yes.Â
Were they a little mad he hid something (AGAIN) this important from them ? Definitely.Â
Were they shocked that his daughter was so darn cute and smiling and laughing that much ? Not really, because you were his mom too.Â
Were they happy for him ? For sure.Â
Were they going to adore that little girl ? Probably as much as they adored his other kids already, which meant...yes. Yes they were going to.Â
Damn that bastard Bruce. Always so sneaky.Â
Hal, couldnât help but think : âFirst, heâs not a vampire, then, heâs married with children, and now, he has that cute baby. This guy ??!!âÂ
***********
The initial shocked passed, and only after your children MOCKED all of your friends (you had to give it to Dick, he knew how to imitate them so well..and when Damian joined in ? Oh, oh it was a fit of laughter impossible to fight that attacked them), did they approach your daughter.Â
âHer name is Martha.â Bruce said âWe named her after my mother.â and it wasnât his usual flat tone he used as Batman. No, it was a soft voice he usually only reserved for his kids. And the reason he was using it now ? Well. He didnât want to scare his daughter, as he still held her.Â
She beamed at him when she heard her name, and babbled some baby nonsense. She then turned towards all those new faces, and you saw Bruceâs hand hold her a little tighter.Â
Your beautiful, sweet soul husband. He clearly was worried sheâd be scared, meeting all those new people. Especially since they all wore mask. But Martha-
Martha let go of her bat plushy (which Damian caught before it touched the floor, rolling on the ground in a way you thought was quite comedic. Oh, that boy), and lifted her arms up towards-Â
âWhat a sweet little girl !â Diana said with a voice you NEVER heard her use. You realized it was her âvoice reserved for babies and domestic animalsâ, and it made you smile. It was higher than her usual voice, and full of softness.Â
You thought your daughter reached for her because she could feel the warmness in your friend. And after all, amongst all of those gathered here today, she was probably the one that adored babies the most.Â
Diana looked at Bruce, who only inclined his head a little to give her the ok to lift her from his arms but-
Another arm stopped her, and took the baby away.Â
Damian.Â
Damian, the one who took his role as a big brother a little too seriously.Â
He held Martha protectively against him, and literally sneered at all your friends.Â
************
Damian deemed most of them unworthy to hold his baby sister, and only Clark ended up being allowed to carry her. And that was partly because Clark was the only one who knew about Martha, the only one who saw her already, and he had months to convince your son to trust him with her.Â
Being an extremely close friend and all, you just couldnât hide this from him and... no, really, you literally couldnât hide this from him as he was the immediately noticed that second heartbeat when he listened in to make sure you and your family were safe. Bruce hated when he did that, but Clark wasnât about to let them be in danger without moving an inch.
Anyway, Clark was allowed to hold her, but he gave her back to you rather quickly because your sonâs stare made him uncomfortable. If eyes could kill, right ?Â
Damian took his job as an older brother very seriously. He would protect her at all cost. And you had no doubt that he would be the kind of person to burn the entire world down if it meant saving his family.Â
Damian only glared at everyone, letting them approach ONLY after they put on a surgical mask so they wouldnât give her their âviruses or whateverâ.Â
You had to admit he was a bit much, and you asked him nicely to calm down a little. He relented on the face masks, but made them all wash their hands (twice).Â
You ruffled his hair affectionately, what a sweet little boy. It broke your heart, how so many people judged him too fast. He really was, a nice kid. With a heart of gold. He just didnât have much luck for the first few years of his life.Â
But he chose to be like this. Chose to love, instead of hate. Chose to protect, instead of attacking.Â
Although, right now, as Diana came back towards his sister, he definitely seems ready to high kick her (which definitely wouldnât have hurt the amazon).Â
************
It was a hassle, to convince Damian to let go of his sister so they could hold her. As per usual, itâs Dick who managed to convince him, saying Martha was all soft and cute, and everyone deserved to hold her at least once. Adding that if one of them dropped her, he would be allowed to do whatever he wanted to them.Â
Some of the mightiest heroes of the planet were gathered hear, but the threat didnât fall on deaf ears. Damian could be a little intense, and scary sometimes.Â
They werenât fooled by Dickâs agreeable smile either. A smile that didnât always reach his eyes. They knew if they messed up, he would find every way to rip them to shreds. Dick was often seen as the calmest of your children, but his anger issues from when he was a child were never far. And he could be ruthless. Â
Diana held her first, and your daughter babbled to her excitedly.Â
Of course, being only 4 months old, she just talked gibberish. And it was so sweet, how Diana answered her :Â âWhat ? *babbles from your daughter* Noooooo. *more babbles from your daughter* I canât believe he said that. And then what ? *babbles babbles babbles*â.Â
After that, Dick took her back, and asked if someone else wanted to hold her, under yours and Bruceâs watchful eyes.Â
Then again, in the room, many were also already parents and knew how to hold a baby. They werenât too worried, except-
Except Dick, that little sh-, had found a new game in recent weeks. Whenever he gave his little sister to someone else...he pretended to drop her.Â
And it made him laugh and laugh and laugh, to give mini-heart attacks to EVERYONE whenever he gave them his baby sister to them, as they always all panicked and screamed seeing her dropped (Dick always had her secure, he only pretended to drop her of course).Â
âOh no careful !â Heâd scream, dropping his arms suddenly (she looooved it) while still gripping her, and theyâd scramble to catch her, and he would just laugh.Â
âYou little-â Halâs colorful words were...imaginative. And Damian was inclined to agree, since his brother pranked him oh, I donât know, only about A HUNDRED TIMES since their little sister was born.Â
You wouldnât admit it, but it made you laugh a little too. Even if he got you a few times as well, pretending he was going to drop her. Then again, you trusted your eldest son. Once you and Bruce wouldnât be around anymore, you knew he would hold this family together.Â
************
Martha was a calm baby. She let people hold her, curious enough to not fuss and watch them all intently. It made Barry uncomfortable, how she held his gaze and would just stare at him.Â
She would stare, and stare, and stare, and her bright blue eyes were EXACTLY like Bruceâs, it felt like being stared down by a miniature version of Batman.Â
He didnât like it. So he gave her back to whomever was closest, which happened to be Jason
Jason, who was always very delicate with his little sister. He handled her as if heâd break her. It broke your heart, to know he probably literally thought that.Â
He refused to hold her at first, sure he would hurt her. But she kept reaching for him, crying when he wouldnât take her, and she was so adorable and-
He caved, of course. After a little while. And he was oh, the fixture of a patient older brother. You knew he would ALWAYS be part of her life, and step in whenever she needed to.Â
Right now, she was grabbing his hair, which were getting quite long, and pulling hard on them as babies do and- He didnât say anything. He just let her do it.Â
You really hoped she wasnât going to take advantage of this when sheâd get older, even if you already had visions of her having her brothers and father wrapped around her little finger, having her sister too, and...apparently, the entirety of the JLA.Â
************
âHow can such an a-hole make such a cute baby ?â Hal said, looking at the little girl he held. She was sort of dozing off, which for sure was adorable.Â
Bruce only glared at him, which amused Hal greatly. He just gave him the shock of his life, he could laugh at his expense a little, right ?Â
âI believe, to make a baby, you need to-â
âUm, no, Jon, please, I know how to ! Itâs just-Oh, forget it.âÂ
Flustered, Hal Jordan was flustered. Jon Jâonzz didnât seem to get why, but then again, human sarcasms and irony were still very foreign to him. He always answered pragmatically to people.Â
Talking about pragmatism. Hal handed back your daughter to Tim, who slipped her in his favorite new contraption : the baby carrier 3.0 (of his own design). Made so he could do all sort of work while having her strapped to him. Keeping an eye on her at all time.Â
Tim adopted the use of a baby carrier, so he could still work while taking care of her (he stole the idea from his dad, who definitely hung around with his daughter EVERYWHERE with that thing...which was the most adorable thing youâve ever seen, this tall broad man and this tiny baby attached to his chest).Â
It was so cute to see her little feet dangling while he was working. Damian nearly lost it when he found Tim WELDING two pieces of metal together with the baby carrier on his front. Tim merely said :Â âI made her baby sized goggles and a fireproof pyjama, sheâs fine, and she likes itâ and indeed, your daughter didnât have a scratch, and cried when Damian hauled her away from the sparks. Ooooh the smug look on Timâs face as his brother gave her back reluctantly. Damianâs was utterly vexed.Â
Vexation he forgot just a few minutes later, when Martha decided she had enough of sparkles and made little sounds of protest (not quite cries), and reached her little arms to him.Â
As of now, Tim had her in this baby carrier again, and was strolling around the JLA headquarters, showing his new little sister to everyone.Â
************
Cassandra didnât say a word, as per usual. She never liked big crowds, only spoke to those she trusted the most. Her brothers, her parents.Â
She only gestured to others. Remained quiet. But she monitored every little movements.Â
Hawkgirl approached her sister ? Noted. Carefully studying every move. Martian Manhunter asked if he could hold her ? Noted.Â
Superman made little babbling sound at her, while her dad held her ? Noted, with amusement. It was funny, to see one of Earthâs mightiest hero grimacing to a baby to make it laugh, while said baby was held by another mighty hero who was utterly stoned face. Cassâ smiled at her dad, who smiled back for a fraction of seconds before Clark shifted his head up to look at him too, and Bruce went back to his :Â â -_-â face, by reflex really.Â
Cassandra never spoke much, but she loved a lot. And her way of loving her little sister ? It was to always keep a watchful eye on her, so she could react to whatever she needed. And give her space when she needed to.Â
She had many brothers, she often joked that if she lost one, she could just replace him (a joke you didnât like much, because you knew it was just a self-defense from her, to shield her heartbreak at the mere idea of loosing a sibling), but only had one sister...
Yes. Your youngest child definitely held a special place in everyoneâs heart.Â
And you could see her slowly creep in every membersâ of the Justice Leagueâs heart too.Â
Gods, you couldnât even imagine what would happen to the person who would one day try to hurt her. You could bet, though, he wouldnât get out of it unscathed (to say the least).Â
************
Martha was particularly fond of Dukeâs inuit kiss. He had the capacity to instantly calm her, and he could easily feel her inner emotions.Â
As she was passed around everyone, and she started to be tired and cranky, he simply retrieved her and brought her to Bruce, because he knew that was her preferred spot to fall asleep.Â
He kissed her on the forehead, and sure enough, she was asleep before he could pull away. Your husband put a warm hand on Dukeâs head, a warm smile on his face. That boy could always tell what others felt. It was a gift, really, and sometimes a curse as othersâ feelings could leak into him. Which is to say that sometimes, when others were sad, he would be too...
But for now, he felt content. At peace. Because his dad was, too.Â
And indeed, Bruce, holding his sleeping daughter against his heart, his hand supporting her head gently, was utterly at peace.Â
He loved the idea that his arms were his daughterâs favorite place to sleep, and never refused to hold her to help her sleep. You sure were a little jealous, but he told you :Â âThey all always come to you when they need comfort, one kid out of six, you surely can give me, right ?â and though you knew he was joking, it broke your heart a little.Â
So, you let go of your jealousy, and let him have this indeed. Martha was definitely a daddyâs girl. And that was good. You could see the impact on your husband, how having a baby in the house soothed him.Â
He loved his kids so damn much. He often said they were his lights. And the fact Martha found comfort with him ?Â
It reminded him of his own parents. How he would go to his mom, a Martha too, to find the same comfort. To fall asleep in the same way.Â
You let go of that small jealousy, as you saw her falling soundly asleep, cuddled up against her dad. And it was funny, how Bruce would take his usual Batman persona, stone faced, standing straight and-Â
Having one of two fingers held tightly by both of his daughterâs little hands. She grabbed them as he took her, one hand holding her (she was so tiny...and he was a big dude), the other, she used as a sort of comfort plushy. She held them with all her might, as she slept.Â
And Bruce was speaking battle plans, and you had to fight the laughter in you as all your friends couldnât help but stare at the scene, not knowing how to feel.Â
Hal snickered at one point, and he made a gesture for him to zip it, and it was quite an odd scene, as he held his daughter and did that childish gesture.Â
Seriously. That guy !!Â
************
Batman smiling was...different.Â
They all got caught staring at him, when he had his daughter in his arms. Staring because his broad smile was-
Well. Broad.Â
It wasnât his signature smirk. It wasnât a soft smile. It wasnât a half-smile. It wasnât a smile that you could only see in his eyes.Â
It was a full on big ass smile (as Barry would say).Â
And sure, they already saw him smile like that (although he schooled his face back to âstone modeâ when he noticed them looking), never that much.Â
As if the birth of his daughter gave Batman another new light, and it was just impossible to yield to his old demon, to brood, when holding that ray of sunshine.Â
It made them all feel...soft. And warm.Â
It was nice, to know the bat wasnât just a machine. They forgot it sometimes, that he was, in the end, âjustâ a man. They forgot why he became Batman. The pain and guilt he held inside. But moments like this, they were reminded of it.Â
That the Batman didnât exist because of hatred, but because of love.Â
Because he loved his parents, his city, and now-Â
His family.Â
It was nice, to get reminded that there was a man below the mask. And though he could be an âa-holeâ sometimes, there, holding his baby, he was just that.Â
A loving man, who wanted to protect others.Â
************
You made a note of every moments you would cherish forever of you introducing your daughters to them all :Â
1. The shock on their faces as they beheld the sight of THE BATMAN holding a baby against him, and being so delicate.Â
2. Your daughter being the star of the show, all of them smitten with her !
3. Your friends wanting to hold her, and how they beamed at her (and she beamed back, except with Barry, whom she only stared at for some reasons).Â
4. Dickâs âgameâ of pretending he dropped her, and their panicked reaction.Â
5. The success of Timâs baby carrier, and how now, there was always one up in the tower.Â
6. Diana and how it definitely seemed like she would move mountain for that child.Â
7. How Clarkâs eyes filled with tears again, as he looked at Martha. Because it made his friends so happy. You and Bruce. And especially Bruce. And Clark was an emotional man, who suffered too, and was just so happy âThe Batmanâ was happy.Â
8. How Jason seemed at peace with his little sister, and how whenever he held her, he seemed less weary than usual around everyone. Like Cass, he didnât like much being amongst too many people. But now, it felt like he had an âemotional support babyâ. Ah.Â
9. Their reactions, past the shock, welcoming that new life in the world.Â
10. How Bruce monitored his daughter being held by his friends, holding your hand. Even after all those years, when he acted close to you in his Batman costume, it made you...feel things. He always kept a facade as Batman. A facade that would crumble with his kids, and especially with you. PDA werenât rare. And even after years at his side, it always made your heart beat wildly when he showed affection towards you in public, because it meant-Â
Oh it meant so much.Â
And you had so many more moments forever ingrained in your heart from that day spend up at the JLAâs headquarters.Â
Too many to count. Some sweet, some hilarious-Â
All positive feelings.Â
And as you and your family stepped back in the zeta tubes, your friends saying âbyyyyyeâ to Martha especially, with their baby voice (making Bruce roll his eyes), and as she waved at them-Â
Waved for the FIRST TIME ever oh.Â
Oh it felt like you would die of happiness.Â
And still, Bruceâs hands held yours tightly.Â
He knew.Â
He knew, you were the source of this happiness he thought he could never find again.Â
He knew.Â
He never loved like that before.Â
Yes. It felt like you could just die of happiness.
__________________________________________________
And here we are. I hope you enjoyed this. Donât hesitate to comment and/or reblog, itâs always greatly appreciated :).Â
Also, initially, the child was going to be Thomas (their son in my âmainâ storyline, if you already read a few works from me), but last minute, I was like : âwait no, I want to give Bruce a daughter, and the boys a sister. Also, poor Cass eh ?â and here we are. I really hope you liked this; Iâm nervous for some reasons. Anyway. See you soon with another one ?Â
#Batman x reader#Batmom#Bruce Wayne x reader#Batfam x reader#Batmom x batkids#Richard Grayson x reader#Jason Todd x reader#Damian Wayne x reader#Tim Drake x reader#Cass Cain x reader#Nightwing x reader#Batman imagine#Red Hood x reader#Robin x reader#Jason Todd imagine#Duke Thomas x reader#Batfam imagine#Batmom x Batfam#Bruce Wayne imagine#Richard Grayson imagine#Damian Wayne imagine#Tim Drake imagine#Batfam x batmom#fem!reader#Justice Leage x reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Bruce Wayne kisses like you're the last thread of sanity holding him to this world. He'll cradle your face in his hands, lips making long, languidly slow movements over your own. By the end of it, you're pushed against some kind of furniture and panting, while he's already leaving to pull on his cowl. It hurts to see him go, yet you know that he'll be home again to kiss you senseless until the world makes sense.
Richard Grayson kisses like he'll be dead tomorrow. Little pecks along your cheek, forehead, neckâanywhere he can get those plush lips on. He'll kiss you until you're both breathless, chests heaving and faces flushed. He'll love you until the day he dies, and he makes sure that you know that. Every day, he spends like it's his last, and every day, he makes sure to give you so many kisses, you're drowning in his love.
Jason Todd kisses like he doesn't know how. Sure, he's had a few hookups, especially during his early days as Red Hood, but he's never kissed a person like you. He loves you, it's as simple as that. With others, he is rough and fast, not knowing how to slow down and just enjoy the presence of the person beneath him. With you, all he can do is be gentle, because you're the only person who has stayed and loved him as the broken man he is.
Tim Drake kisses you like he's trying to study you. He'll nip at your neck and jaw just to see how you react, just to grin to himself as he observes the way you melt into him when his lips meet yours. He'll let his hands wander to see what makes you relax, what makes your lips stutter against his. He enjoys every interaction like you are his subject and he is the scientist. He needs to know everything. Knowledge calls for him in his blood, and you, his love, are the doorway to it.
AgedUp!Damian Wayne kisses expensively. He starts at your jaw, making soft motions towards your lips until he finally claims them with his own. His wide hands hold you in place by the waist and his dark hair tickles your skin. He'll take his time, loving on you the way you deserve. He knows just how to kiss you like he knows just how to kill a man. He kisses soft and slow, because why would he have to rush? He has his beloved in his arms, whispering his name against his lips; what more could he want?
#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x reader#richard grayson#richard grayson x you#richard grayson x reader#dick grayson#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x reader#jason todd#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#tim drake#tim drake x you#tim drake x reader#damian wayne#damian wayne x you#damian wayne x reader#x reader#fluff#batfam#batfam x reader#batboys#drabble#dc comics#dc headcannon#dc robin#axstoria
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Batboys being clingy headcanon:
Including Duke and Bruce <3
Hope you guys like it!
Tim Drake Timâs clinginess is low-key, but itâs also constant. Heâs the type to text you âWhatâs up? I miss you <3â while youâre just sitting 5 feet away from him. If you so much as stand up to go get a snack, heâs immediately there, like, âWhere are you going? Donât leave me.â Heïżœïżœll lean against you, his hand finding yours without him even realizing it. When you're watching TV or reading, heâs definitely leaning into your side, trying to get as close as possible without being too obvious. But if you move to shift positions? Nope, heâs following you. Heâll slip his arm around your waist, all like, âDonât think I didnât notice that.â Heâs not a big PDA guy, but when itâs just the two of you? Prepare for cuddles, hand-holding, and small, random kisses. Heâs gotta be touching you constantly.
Jason Todd Jason is obsessive, no doubt. Heâs that partner whoâll try to act like heâs tough and independent, but the moment you show him any kind of affection, heâs all over you. Like, you canât just hug him. No. Heâll climb into your lap and basically trap you there, rubbing his face into your neck like a cat. Heâs gonna constantly ask for kisses, too, but not just little pecksâhe wants full-on, deep kisses where he can pull you close and remind you that youâre his. If youâre doing something, like, working or even hanging out with friends, heâll try to drag you away, be like, âHey, come hang out with me, stop ignoring me for two seconds.â Heâs possessive, but in the cutest way, constantly needing your attention. If you even talk to another person for too long, heâll give them side-eye and pull you back to him like, âYou good? Youâre not gonna leave me for some random guy, are you?â Heâs also the type to cling to you in bed, hogging the covers and curling up like a human koala.
Dick Grayson Dickâs clingy energy is pure gold. Heâs the most affectionate of the bunch and doesnât shy away from public displays of love. He loves hugging you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, and just randomly planting kisses all over your face. Heâll text you âmiss you <3â every few hours when youâre apart, and when youâre together? Itâs all about touch. Heâs sitting on your lap, or leaning on your shoulder, or pulling you into his chest just because he needs to be close to you. If youâre watching a movie, heâs definitely going to have his head in your lap, just to be as close to you as humanly possible. He gets giddy when he gets attention from you, too. You could be playing with his hair, and heâll melt. Heâll whine like, âIâm not clingy, youâre clingy. But also, I love it. So donât stop.â Honestly, Dick doesnât care if heâs acting like a bit of a puppyâheâs obsessed with you, and he makes sure you know it.
Damian Wayne Damianâs clingy moments are hilariously dramatic. He might start out cold, acting like he doesnât need anyone, but as soon as you show him any affection? Heâs all in. Heâll randomly grab your hand and hold it like itâs the most important thing in the world. If you try to walk away from him for whatever reason, heâll growl and pull you back in, like, âWhere are you going? Youâre staying right here.â He has this whole vibe of âI donât need anyone else, just youâ, so if youâre talking to someone else or looking away from him for too long, heâll wrap his arm around your waist and be like, âI donât think you should be talking to them. They might steal you away from me.â In bed? Heâs a hug monster, wrapping his arms around you like heâs never letting you go. Heâs all about the intimacy, thoughâwhen itâs just the two of you, heâll be soft and surprisingly vulnerable, making sure you know that he needs you more than he lets on.
Duke Thomas Duke is lowkey super clingy, but in the way thatâs goofy and endearing. He loves to follow you around, like, just wherever you go, heâs tagging along. Youâre going to the kitchen? Heâs there. To grab something from the laundry room? Heâs there. If you sit down, heâs sitting on the floor next to you, asking if you want to âcuddle and watch dumb shows together.â Heâs always finding excuses to touch youâlike, his hand will just casually rest on your knee or heâll come up behind you and play with your hair. And if you donât give him attention? Heâll pout, even if heâs trying to play it off, like, âArenât you gonna give me a kiss? Câmon, donât leave me hanging.â Heâs the type whoâll give you a silly smile, lean in for a kiss, and then pull you into a full-on hug like, âDonât go. Iâm not done with you yet.â Heâs all about the hugs, especially after a long day. Youâll be just chilling, and suddenly heâs like, âHug time, right? Let me get one.â
Bruce Wayne Now, Bruce is not the type to openly admit heâs clingy. Heâs still the stoic, brooding billionaire whoâs been through a lot, but when itâs just the two of you? Heâs softer than anyone expects. Heâll always make sure youâre physically closeâhis hand on your lower back, your legs touching when you sit next to him, and if heâs standing near you, his hand will casually rest on your arm. When youâre working late or doing something serious, Bruce will occasionally pull you away for a few minutes just to kiss you or hold you close. Heâs not great at asking for attention, but when heâs feeling clingy, heâll show you through little gestures. Youâll find him just sitting beside you in silence, just content to be in your presence. Heâs a man of few words, but when heâs clingy, itâs all about the touchâthe way he holds your hand, how he presses his shoulder to yours, and how heâll insist on driving you home or waiting up for you, just to make sure youâre safe.
#batboys#batboys headcanons#damian wayne headcanon#damian wayne x reader#dick grayson#dick grayson headcanons#jason todd#jason todd headcanons#tim drake#tim drake headcanons#nightwing x reader#nightwing#dc x reader#duke thomas#duke thomas x reader#bruce wayne#batman#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x reader#tim drake x you#tim drake x reader#damian wayne#damian al ghul#batfamily#batfam#headcanon#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood#dc robin
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
I love imaging Dick, Tim, and Damian sneaking around trying to meet Jasons new gf because they just wanna be involved in his life and they know if they they leave it to Jay they wont meet her u til they're married with kids đ
AND âomg us meeting Jasonâs siblings whenâ
AN: Ngl I love this idea too, its so shitty of them but they have the best of intentions.
Damian
A boy no older than 14 with eyes that pierce the soul was not what you'd expected to find on Jason's couch the very first time he'd left you alone there. Jason had to dip out unexpectedly early, and had promised you run of the place until he got back so you'd slept in as long as you could and were on your way to make breakfast when you're greeted by the hell-child.
Once your initial fright wears off you realise you recognize him from a photo Jay had showed you which makes you feel slightly more at ease.
âGood morning? Damian right?â You offer as you pass him, be-lining for the coffee machine, you're gonna need caffeine if you're meeting any member of Jay's family for the first time. âCan I get you anything?â
âAlfred says it's unbecoming to sleep past 9.â Besides the initial glare he'd graced you with as you emerged from the bedroom, he doesn't even look up at you, his eyes glued to the pages of a book. Like brother like brother, you guess.
âOh, well. Good thing Alfreds not here then.â You add a small laugh, trying to inject some humour to the situation. Damian does not respond in kind. âIs that a no? I think there's some chocolate cereal around here somewhere.â
âWhat do you do for work that allows you to be in my brother's home in the middle of the day?â
Jeez this kid is no-nonsense. âOr I could make pancakes, I make really good pancakes.â
âAnd tell me what exactly are your intentions with my baby brother?â Baby?
âI think there's some chocolate chips around here somewhere. Jason says you like chocolate. Chocolate pancakes?â
âDo you always avoid questions?â
âAre you always so intense?â
He slams the book closed and you nearly jump on the spot. He finally looks at you, really looks at you and as you stare back his features begin to soften slightly.
âIâll have a coffee.â
You're certain from the sly look on his face that he's probably not allowed coffee. He certainly doesn't need any. But screw it, he's not your kid and if it gets him to like a little, you'll take the risk.
So you pour two coffees and join him on the couch. His questions do not cease until Jason returns about an hour later. He couldn't care less about the coffee, but he does care about Damian breaking in to interrogate his partner and immediately kicks Damian out.
Dick
Dick finds out about your existence from one of Damianâs letters, and he's subtle but pushy about meeting you. Not that you're aware. He keeps âdropping byâ Jason's apartment âjust to see his lil brotherâ, no other reason but is told to get lost or downright ignored anytime you're there, until he decides to cut out the middle man and turn up at your home instead.
âLet me tell you, you are a hard person to get a hold of.â He informs as he invites himself through your front door.
âUm, hello Dick?â As you stare at his lush hair and sculpted abs you wonder what Alfred feeds these boys.
âYep! I can't stay so Iâve gotta make this quick.â he gestures for you to come closer, speaking in a playful, conspiratorial whisper. âJay doesn't know I'm here.â
That would be why he can't stay, Jason is due at your door any minute now.
âBut you two seem to be getting pretty serious and I think it's important that we all get to know each other. You following?â
You nod, and he gives you the perkiest, most genuine smile. That or he has that exact look practised to a T. From what Jay tells you, either is possible.
âSo, Barbara and I, that's my wifeâ You nod once more, you're aware of Barbara also. âhave booked a table at Casa Gotica for Thursday night. We need you to get Jason there without letting on that it's a double date.â
âI donât know.â you finally give your nodding head a break. âJay and I donât lie to each other.â
âRight. I can't begrudge that. Very glad to hear he's picked an honest one.â He takes a moment to straighten his thoughts, but his moment is cut short but the echo of Jasonâs combat boots approaching your door. Dickâs eyes rapidly scan the room for a secondary exit before he settles on an open window. âDon't think of it as lying, think of it as omitting the truth. Whatever you have to do just be there for 6.30. Oh, and it's great to meet you!â
âYou too.â
âThursday, 6.30!â
Before you can agree heâs gone, presumably scaling the side of your building as Jay steps inside.
Tim
Tim was actually the first to be aware of you and your relationship with his brother, however, the very real possibility of being gutted by Jason for snooping in his personal life was too high for him to make a move.
But you seeking him out is a different story; or rather, you being the first to say hi when you bump into each other in line at the grocery store is different. It would be rude not to respond to your attempts at initiating a conversation.
âHello, hi, are you Tim? You don't know me but Iâm Jasons partner. Its so great to meet you.â
âI know who you are.â He states rather ominously, eyes darting around behind you. âIs he here?â
âNo, but he's picking me up after.â His shoulders visibly ease.
âCool cool cool.â Heâs suddenly much more personable. âSo, I hear you're intoâŠâ
That chatting doesn't dry or lul at all as the queue dwindles and both buy your groceries. He waits with you until you get confirmation from Jay that he's on his way. He's easily the chillest sibling you've met thus far.
When Jason arrives he gets out of the car to open the boot and passenger door for you as always, but not before he thrusts his phone in your face. âWhere is he?â
Displayed on the screen is a selfie of Tim with you in the background, you absolutely do not remember it being taken.
#anon#thanks for the request#/ask#dc#Jason Todd#jason todd/reader#jason todd x reader#red hood/reader#red hood x reader#red hood#batfam x reader#batfam#damian wayne#robin#nightwing#dick grayson#tim drake#red robin#3K
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Here, Kitty.
Yan batfam x cat hybrid reader -> CH1
12609 words, 71519 characters, 719 sentences, 224 paragraphs, 50.4 pages Next chapter
You can't recall exactly when or how you first came into contact with the billionaire and his sons, but if you could, you would go back in time and prevent that meeting from ever taking place. In a heartbeat.
Sitting obediently on a glass table tucked in the center of a crowded Wayne Enterprises boardroom, you find yourself ensnared as Bruce Wayne diligently delivers a familiar presentation, each sentence having been painstakingly practiced during the car ride over. Having overheard his repeated rehearsal with Alfred, you find yourself unconsciously mouthing along to every word. The tight black and green collar around your neck only worsening your discomfort, its stiffness constricting your movements and snagging on your freshly groomed fur.
The man continues on with his presentation, his polished demeanour and authoritative tone captivating the attention of the surrounding investors and executives. However, you find it difficult to focus on his words, the ridiculous knitted Nightwing sweater pressing against your back causing an uncomfortable itch. You shift slightly, wincing as your freshly combed coat brushes against the stiff fabric.
The weight of Bruce's unwavering gaze lands on you like a furnace, and you can almost picture that infuriatingly fond smile plastering his face. Just the thought of it made your stomach churn with disgust. Your tail swishing side to side in distaste.
He continues to drone on and on; and you find yourself struggling to stay still, the uncomfortable position, itchy sweater, and the heavy weight of Bruce's stare making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything he's saying. The only thing you want to do is scratch the infuriating itch, but the tight collar around your neck and Bruce's looming presence ensure that you remain obediently still. You know better than to cross them. How willing they are to punish you, so you stay still.
Your thoughts drift to a time when you were still unburdened by this enforced domestication. A pang of longing and bitterness settles in your chest as memories of your previous life come flooding back. You remember the simple freedom of being able to move about unmonitored, the comfort of lounging in the sun, unbothered by the Wayne families suffocating grasps.
Your paws effortlessly propel you across the icy rooftops, leaping and bounding with a careless grace. The cool night air brushes through your untamed, unhindered fur, the wind whistling past your ears. A bag is clenched between your sharp teeth, the fabric muffling your breathing slightly as you scale each building with purpose.
The city's neon glow stretches out beneath your paws, the distant lights casting a soft, surreal hue on the urban canvas. Free to go wherever you please. You could spend minutes, hours or even days just wandering under Gothamâs starry sky, with no one to tell you what to do or where to be.
You pause your journey and arrive at the edge of a dark alley, peering down at the scene below. A woman holds two teens hostage, a pistol pressed against their shivering frames. Your tail involuntarily fluffs up, matching the tension in your body as your slitted eyes dart to each potential escape route. A hiss escapes past your teeth, and you set the package down at your side before delicately pawing at a loose brick in the wall. You slide it from its position just enough to create a domino effect, the brick falling directly onto the woman's gun-holding hand.
A small, satisfied mewl leaves your throat as the woman wails in pain, her broken wrist cradled protectively in her grip. The two teens immediately seize the opportunity to make their escape, scrambling out of the alleyway. The gun slips from the woman's grasp, and she drops to her knees clutching her wounded hand. Your ears fold back and a low hiss escapes your lips at the sight, but you remain perched on the roof-top, unmoving. You slowly lower back down to take your package, then turn away. Your paws hitting the nearest rooftop with a small thump.
Your paws carry you further and further away from the robbery, the events replaying in your mind like a vivid, disjointed dream. You launch yourself from roof-to-roof in a series of quick dashes and leaps, your body seemingly on autopilot as you weave through the city's darkened backstreets. The silence of the rooftops envelops you like a comforting blanket, the city below finally at rest. A cool night breeze caresses your untamed fur, rustling its unkempt strands. Balancing the package carefully in your mouth, you bound toward your homeâs familiarly cluttered balcony.
Your eyes scan over the cluttered balcony, taking in the random assortment of books, clothes, and trinkets strewn across the small space. Your padded paws land quietly on the rough wood, a subtle thump breaking the silence. Your muscles relax ever so slightly as the familiar surroundings wash over you. Without a second thought, you make your way to the edge of the balcony, lowering the package with your paws before curling up beside it, your ears folding back in an almost contented manner.
Your eyes had just shuttered closed as you basked in the soothing midnight breeze, when the sudden crash of metal yanks you from your reverie. Your ears perking up and pivoting towards the source of the disturbance. A low, frustrated huff escapes your snout. You stretch out your limbs, your tail flicking in annoyance as you lower yourself from the edge of the balcony and peer over the side.
Peering down from your perch on the balcony, your eyes widen in surprise. Itâs...a boy? Wearing a skin-tight red and black bodysuit with a vibrant yellow cape. A flicker of familiarity sparks in your brain; youâve seen this one before. Red Robin.
You observe him silently from your vantage point, tilting your head to the side as your eyes rove over his frame. He lets out an exaggerated groan, grappling awkwardly with an unfamiliar piece of gadgetry. A low, scoffing hum leaves your throat and your tail lightly thwaps against the wood, twitching in amusement. You had only seen him in pictures before, but damn, they didnât lie. He looked absolutely ridiculous.
You lower yourself with a single, fluid motion onto the metal stairwell, feeling the rough surface scraping against your little paws. A small hiss of displeasure escapes your throat, but you brush it off and continue. You approach him curiously, taking a moment to inspect him. Your nose twitches as you sniff at his cape before finding a comfortable spot to sit and look up at him expectantly.
He doesnât immediately notice your approach, his mind seemingly occupied by the malfunctioning gadget in his hands. You watch as he fiddles with the device for a few moments before his attention finally snaps to you. He visibly jumps, startled by your sudden proximity. He lets out a startled breath, eyes widening. You had gone to him.
You let out a snort of derision. Him, a vigilante? A detective? Unlikely. The thought of him trying to solve a case or outwit a criminal is absolutely absurd. You let your gaze wander over his costume once more, imagining how differently he would react if you were in your human form right now.
He slowly lowers the gadget, his eyes fixed upon you as you recline before him, behaving like an awaiting house cat. He observes you with quiet, analytical interest, his gaze roaming over your small form, taking in your twitching tail and reasonably-groomed fur. He seems to ponder the sight of you, weighing in on your not-quite stray, yet not-quite pampered appearance.
You gingerly shift closer, standing on your hind legs before pawing at his pants. A small indignant huff of disappointment escapes your lips as the material refuses to tear, the tightly-woven fabric holding firmly against your claws, unable to even tear the slightest thread, but you mask it with a small, almost cute "mew". Nevertheless, you are determined to make the most out of this situation. Planning on coaxing all the pets you possibly can out of this man.
He shoots you a curious look, tilting his head to the side. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. He then slowly reaches out a gloved hand, hovering it over your head hesitantly, waiting for your response.
The end of your tail gives a happy flick, betraying your eagerness for his touch. You press your cheek against his knuckles, enjoying the sensation of his fingers against your fur. Instinctively, your ears fold back, granting him better access to run his fingers further through your soft fur. Sucker.
A soft, delighted purring sound fills the air as your eyes flutter closed, your purrs becoming a constant, steady low rumble in your chest as he continues to gently stroke your head and down your neck. Oh, this is heavenly. Your tail swishes contentedly, and you lean into his touch, almost shamelessly seeking out more.
His gloved hand is much bigger than your entire head, the soft fabric of his suit brushing against your fur. Yet, his touch was gentle and deliberate, slowly tracing the outline of your ears and down your spine, causing a blissful shiver to run through your small body. Your eyelids droop further, nearly closing completely, your purring becoming louder as you relax into his touch. You donât notice the pleased knowing grin that crosses his face.
The weight and warmth of his gloved hand was almost soothing, his fingers weaving between your fur with a sort of rhythmic motion. You let your body go limp, your head rolling back to further expose the underside of your chin, silently begging for more of those slow, careful caresses. Your eyes are almost completely closed now, a small rumble in your chest the only sound you remember how to make. God, you havenât been pet in weeks.
His hand moves from your spine to the base of your tail, and a low sigh of pure contentment leaves your mouth. He seems to sense your delight and focuses his attention there, running his fingers through the base of your tail, causing you to involuntarily arch your body towards him, purring in approval.
He seems to know exactly what to do, his touch deliberate yet tender. A little too well. It's as if he's somehow mapped out each and every spot that you secretly adore and is now exploiting it to great effect. The constant caresses, pets, and scrabbles have worked you into a sort of euphoric, almost trancelike state, your mind becoming blissfully devoid of conscious thought. All you can focus on is the warm, firm touch of his gloved hand.
The moment is shattered, however, as deep voice from his comms shatters the sweet, blissful moment. Your little pointed ears perk up, instinctively responding to the sudden intrusion of sound. âTim? Why does it say youâve stood still?â
You pull yourself from your blissful state with a reluctant huff, the sound of the deep voice in his comm jarring you back to reality. Your ears flick back, annoyed at the interruption. Timâ Red Robin seems to tense up, his hand frozen in mid-pet. He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, looking down at you. "Sorry, I gotâŠdistracted."
Your tail lazily swishes against the stairwell, silently expressing your irritation at having been interrupted. You can practically hear his sheepish, nervous chuckle, can practically sense the tension in his frame. "Distracted?" The voice in the comm questions, but you huff, tuning out the conversation.
You let out a small, frustrated huff before turning your focus back onto Tim's still form. Ignoring the man's comm conversation, you push your little, fluffy face against his leg, letting out a needy demanding mewl to regain his attention. You're not done yet, damn it.
His eyes flick back over to you, a mix of apology and amusement evident in his gaze. He resumes his prior motions, sliding his hand down your spine with a soft, comforting caress, tracing the same path he'd followed before. All the while, his other hand is fiddling with the comms device, probably replying to the man on the other end. Good. As long as his hands are still touching you, you don't particularly care what he's doing. âYou found them?â
You sigh and let yourself relax once again, the soothing motions of his fingers against your fur quickly working you back into blissful indifference. You let your eyelids flutter closed, sinking back into the soothing rhythm of his touch. The only sounds you can focus on are his breathing, the soothing rasp of his glove against your fur, and the low hum of the comm conversation. This is nice.
He continues this motion for what feels like an eternity, the blissful sensation of being pet taking over your senses and dulling your brain into a euphoric, mindless state. You find yourself leaning heavily against his leg, the steady rise and fall of his chest and the low rumble of his voice against the comms acting as an oddly soothing background noise. Damn, you could get used to this....
Gradually, you become aware of him shifting, his hand leaving your spine. A low whine escapes your throat, your eyes opening to look up at him with a mixture of annoyance and pleading. Come back. You meow, demanding.
You let out a low grumble of complaint as he stands and picks up the device once more. Irritated at the interruption of your moment, you bat at his leg with your small paw, then quickly scamper away, leaping back onto the balcony from before. Now alone, you let out a sigh and circle the small space multiple times. The wood scraping against your claws sharply.
With a quick shift, you transform back into your human form, the small package clutched delicately in your hands. Turning, you slide open the door to the balcony and step through, the cool night air rustling against your clothes.
Tossing the small package onto the countertop, you drag yourself over to the couch. Your limbs ache with exhaustion as you collapse into the cushions with a thud. You bring the well worn blanket with you, wrapping your tired body in its familiar comfort. Your muscles are screaming out for rest. Which you happily oblige.
You're wrenched out of a fitful sleep, eyes fluttering open as the familiar, infuriating sound of construction greets you. Fuck. A loud, frustrated groan escapes your chapped lips. You pull a nearby couch pillow over your head, desperately trying to muffle the noise. With bleary eyes, you squint at the digital clock reading 5:42. You want to die.
The relentless hammering, banging, and drilling outside the thin walls of the apartment pierce your eardrums. You swear you can feel each blow of the hammer, every screech of the drill, deep in your bones. Make it stop. You press the pillow more firmly against your ears, trying in vain to block out the incessant din. You silently promise yourself that if you ever meet the city planner responsible for approving this construction, you'll kick him square in the nuts... Or right in the vaginaâ whatever. Now is not the time to debate over this.
With a groan of irritation and an abundance of hissing, you force your tired body into a sitting position as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. You take a moment to rub your temples for some relief from the dull ache forming behind your eyes.
You open your red rimmed eyes and swing your legs over the side of the couch. The exhaustion from last night feels ten times worse now after being woken up prematurely by the construction racket. You mentally curse whoeverâs in charge here, and their entire bloodline. Silently wishing for the noise to stop. Maybe you can sleep in the bathtub later...
You brace one hand against the side of the couch as you use it as support to rise to your feet. A series of satisfying cracks and pops resonate down your spine. By the sound of it youâre a chiropractors wet dream.
You let out a low sigh of relief as you straighten, your back now less taut than it was a few moments ago. Small mercies, right?
With your hands clamped tightly over your tender, sensitive ears, you stumble into the kitchen. You begin searching through each cabinet with a desperation that borders on violent. Your mission? Find the strongest headache pills you have.
After hastily flinging open each cupboard and shelf, you finally find what youâre looking for. A small, white bottle filled half way with little white tabs. With a quick twist, you pop the lid open and pour two pills out into your palm, before downing them dry.
You lean against the kitchen counter, eyes squeezed shut as you press the heels of your hands firmly into your temples. Come on. Work already..
You wait in silence, only the buzzing of the refrigerator and occasional hammering outside filling the air. You press your palms against your temples, as if physically willing the pills to work faster. The tension between your shoulders tight as piano wire.
You let out a frustrated groan, turning the tap on, lowering your head under the rushing water. You gulp down a few mouthfuls, letting the water run over, through, and past your lips. The noise of the tap muffling the sounds of the construction. The coolness of the water temporarily soothes the ache behind your eyes.
You let the water slide past your lips, closing them to savor the cool sensation. Your mind grows blank as you lose track of time, lost in tranquility despite the racket outside. Then, with a shaky hand, you turn off the tap, stepping back as you reach for a tea towel to dry your face and neck. The cloth rough against your tender skin, but the motion is calming, and your shoulders loosen the slightest bit.
You lean back against the counter, the cold marble seeping through your shirt, almost numbing any sensation on your skin. You take another moment to towel dry your hair, the rough material scraping against your scalp, and sending a pleasant shiver down your back. The small action temporarily distracting you from the pounding in your head.
You drop the towel, letting it fall onto the counter behind you. A long exhale escapes your mouth, your shoulders dropping as you relax. For a moment, the water seems to have worked. Unfortunately, the relief is short lived as the headache slowly creeps back in. A low growl escapes your lips. Ugh.
You scan over the bottle, reading the small print. Only twenty minutes before the damn things start to kick in. Shit. You shove the container back inside the cupboard, a frustrated huff leaving your lips. You drag your body over to your room, every step a tedious task.
You stumble into the room and collapse onto your bed, face first. You let out a low groan as your body lands on the soft, fluffy mattress. It welcomes you with open arms. You let yourself go limp, letting the comfort and softness of your bed lull you into a quiet state of half numbness. You canât tell if itâs the lack of rest, or the pills finally starting to work, but youâre suddenly feeling incredibly woozy.
With a sluggish effort, you shift your head up, wincing at the sharp, persistent thrum in your skull. Despite the throbbing, you slowly extend your arm to reach for the pair of shorts laying on the edge of the bed.
With a weary sigh, you shuck off yesterdayâs cargo pants and pull the new shorts up your legs. The simple motion feels like climbing a mountain. Deciding that the headache pounding through your mind was too much to change your shirt, you collapse back onto your bed. The sheets cool against your overheated skin.
You lay there for a moment, letting the comfort of your bed take hold. Despite the headache still pounding through your head, exhaustion slowly starts to take hold of you. Your eye lids flutter as sleep slowly creeps in. But just as youâre about to doze off, your stomach lets out an obnoxious gurgle, the sound piercing the silence. Great.
You let out a frustrated sigh as you shift up from the bed, grimacing as you do so. Your untamed hair sticking up in random directions. You rub your temple, as your stomach lets out another loud grumble. You let out an annoyed whine as the realisation sinks in. Youâre out of groceries.
With a disgruntled huff, you haul yourself up for the second time. Reaching for your jacket as you quickly make your way towards the front door. This time choosing to forego the balcony and just walk like a normal person. You swing open the front door and step out into the hallway. The fluorescent lights buzz annoyingly overhead.
You step into the hallway, your shoes slapping softly against the tiled floor. The sound of the construction is no longer muffled, the endless banging and grinding now clear as day. You wince as the onslaught suddenly becomes unbearable. You quickly make your way to the staircase instead of the elevator. You canât handle being jammed into that tiny space with the sounds of hell right now.
You take the steps of the staircase two at a time, just wanting to get out of this damn building as soon as possible. Each step echoes with a rhythmic thudding against the cold concrete as you make your way to the ground floor. The headache pills have finally started to work, but the pounding construction outside is slowly undoing their efforts.
You stride past the workers, shooting each of them a murderous glare. Itâs not their fault theyâre just doing their job. But goddamn it, the headache is worsening and itâs all you can do to not snap at them. Instead, you settle for shooting them a glare that could rival Batman himself.
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the angry words building within you. Just keep walking. Itâs fine. Theyâre not at fault here. Itâs stupid to be angry at them. You repeat the mantra in your head like a broken record as your legs carry you further down the street. Further away from that blasted construction noise.
You keep walking, your shoes thumping against the concrete as you go. The further away you get from the construction, the more the headache starts to abate. You let out a quiet, shuddering breath of relief as you glance around at your surroundings. Barely anyone was out at this hour, the streets still mostly asleep.
After walking another ten minutes or so, you pause in the middle of the street and let out a string of quiet curses under your breath. The stores wonât be open for at least another four hours, and your stomach is starting to demand sustenance again.
Frustration builds inside of you, your teeth clenched tight together as you shuffle in place. You canât go back to your apartment because of that goddamn noise, and all the stores that arenât run by mobsters are closed.
You sigh, resting your tired body against the graffiti-filled wall behind you. There was another option you could try. But whether or not you were desperate enough to do it was something else.
You chew on your bottom lip in contemplation. You hadn't eaten much more than a small yogurt cup yesterday, and your stomach was protesting it's emptiness in a loud, gurgling complaint. You release a long sigh, doing a quick glance around to ensure no one was nearby before shifting into a cat.
The transformation is swift and graceful as you shift into the form of a sleek cat. Your body shrinks, limbs elongating and changing shape as soft multicoloured fur sprouts from your body. You stand on four paws, tail swaying languidly. You give yourself a quick shake, licking your little paws for good measure before looking around again.
You take a moment to get used to the new body youâve assumed. Everything felt a tad bit more sensitive in this form. Your ears swivel around at minuscule sounds as you sniff the air with your sensitive nose, picking up on the various scents floating through the street.
You decide to try your hand at pity first, before resorting to thievery if your first plan fails. You slink down the street, your paws silent against the pavement beneath you as you search for some poor unsuspecting soul to assist you.
You stalk down the street, ears pricked and head tilted as you listen for the sounds of anyone making their way through the quiet street. You make yourself as adorable as possible: wide, begging eyes and sticking out your chest. A pitiful meow leaving your little cat mouth every so often, just for good measure.
You make your way through the city, heading towards the more upscale side of Gotham. You sway your tail idly behind you, the appendage brushing against the concrete and gathering the dirt that sticks to your fur. You make sure to rub up against some objects, gathering enough dirt and debris to make yourself appear slightly disheveled, but not enough to set off your instincts to want to groom yourself immediately.
You reach a neighbourhood of opulent high rises and well manicured lawns, plush houses and gated communities starting to become more frequent, a stark contrast to the graffiti-filled blocks you had passed before. Your fur is dusted with enough dirt to look untidy without feeling uncomfortable, and you let out a small meow as you glance down the street, scouting for a likely target.
You spot a man of considerable height, around 6 foot tall, with an intimidatingly built physique. His shirt clings just slightly too tightly against his chest, leaving little to the imagination. A scar mars the side of his face, making him look even more menacing. But youâve seen far scarier looking men loitering at the end of your street. Saying that, doesnât mean youâre any less scared of his imposing figure. So you quickly duck under the nearest parked car, attempting to conceal yourself beneath it.
You watch in trepidation as the man begins strutting towards the vehicle youâve hidden yourself beneath. He kneels down in an unhurried, smooth motion, and peers right under the car. His gaze instantly locks onto you, your eyes widening in response to his intense stare. For the briefest of moments, you could have sworn there was a look of softness in his eyes, as if he hadnât expected to see you.
âA cat?â The man lets out a small huff, shaking his head in what seemed like disbelief. His gaze drifts to your disheveled appearance, taking in the dirt that clings to your fur. He lets out a low hum, continuing to watch you with a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His muscles slowly relax. A smirk appearing on his face as he studies you closer.
Your tail sways behind you, your ears perking up at his relaxed gaze. A sly little grin of satisfaction threatens to rise to your face, but you hold it back, instead letting out a pitiful meow as you slowly shuffle closer to him. He doesnât move away, watching your every movement with unwavering eyes.
You lower your head, slowly moving towards his boots. You let your body press against the soles of his shoes, a soft purring sound escaping your little feline mouth. The dirt from your fur slowly coats the previously clean material of his boots, but he doesnât seem to mind the mess.
You continue to press your body against the hard leather of his boots, leaving behind a dusting of dirt. He crouches down, gently reaching out a big hand, careful not to scare you off. You can see the muscles in his arms flex with the action, the veins prominent on his knuckles. He gently runs a finger over your head, scratching just behind your ears.
The feel of his big hand against your head is gentle, his touch unexpectedly tender as he lightly scratches at the skin behind your ear. You let out a rumbling purr, unable to fight the comforting sensation that slowly starts to take over. Despite his intimidating appearance, heâs surprisingly sweet towards you.
Heâs a hard-looking man, his appearance disheveled and weathered, a white streak through his jet black hair. His wide physique is almost intimidating, but you can see his heart already start to soften after a few moments. It seems even he isnât immune to the charm of a pitiful stray cat begging for food and affection.
"What are you doing all the way out here, kid?" The man's deep, slightly grating voice calls out as he continues to gently scratch behind your ear. He's staring down at your small form with an odd expression of concern on his face, his eyes drifting over your disheveled fur.
Your ears perk up at the sound of his voice. Something suddenly seems terribly familiar about it. You tilt your head, glancing up to get a clearer look at the manâs face as you try and place where exactly youâve heard his voice before.
You look closer at the man, studying his features with a furrowed brow. Thereâs no mistaking it now, youâve definitely seen this guy somewhere before. Youâre sure of it. But thereâs no way youâd ever know anyone this big and intimidating before⊠right?
The man stands, gently scooping you up into his arms. He gives you a light pat on the head before he starts to move. âCome along then, I donât need that little shit on my ass for leaving their little obsession stranded so far from home,â he mumbles, as if heâs talking to himself and not you.
Youâre left blinking in surprise as youâre lifted from the ground, cradled in the manâs arms. You look up at him as he starts walking down the street with you, a bewildered look on your face. Obsession? Stranded? What the hell is this dude on?
The man continues walking, his stride even and unhurried. He glances down at you and scoffs, as if heâs amused by the sight of you. He mutters something under his breath as he walks, something that sounds like âGod dammit, B.â He brings his hand up to give you a gentle scratch under your chin, the gesture almost affectionate.
Your stomach chooses the perfect moment to let out a loud grumble, the sound amplified by being so close to the manâs hand. You can feel his hand twitch against your belly slightly, and he lets out a low chuckle.
âHungry, huh?â The man drawls out. He stops his stride for a moment, pulling out his phone as he keeps you cradled in one arm. You canât see anything from this angle, but you can hear the sound of him making a phone call.
Itâs only a few rings before someone picks up on the other end. You can faintly hear a voice chatting softly on the other line, even though you canât make out what theyâre saying. The man lets out a small huff of annoyance before holding the phone up to his ear, shifting you in his arms to keep you comfortably balanced against his chest.
âHey,â he says into the speaker, his voice gruff but surprisingly soft. âYeah, Iâm out on the east side. I found something.â Thereâs a pause as the person on the other line responds, and you can faintly hear them say something, although itâs muffled and indistinct. The man snorts, his eyes drifting down to you for a moment before he continues.
âYeah, yeah, Iâm bringing âem back. Relax,â The man responds to the person on the other side of the line, rolling his eyes. You watch the side of his face as he talks, your ears pricked, ears catching snippets of the conversation. Relax? What do they mean by that? Are they talking about me?
âNo, itâs fine. Iâve got it,â the man says, shifting you around again as he begins to resume walking. âIâll be back in an hour.â The person on the other end says a few more words before thereâs a beep signifying the callâs been cut. He shoves his phone back into his pocket before bringing his hand back to keep you cradled against his chest.
You huff softly, feeling a strange mix of irritation and intrigue swirling inside of you. In an attempt to distract yourself, you reach your small paw up, lightly tapping it against the manâs cheek.
Itâs a small action, intended to be nothing more than a curious little jab. But against the rough, scarred skin of the manâs cheek, your tiny little paw seems almost affectionate. He glances down at you at the contact, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.
He studies you for a moment, a look of almost curiosity on his face. Itâs a far cry from the gruff, hardened exterior he had been portraying up until now. He stops his stride for a moment, lifting you closer to his face to look at you more closely.
He seems almost⊠fascinated by you. His eyes rove over your soft fur and little face, taking in every detail. He lets out a low hum, slowly reaching out a hand and gently stroking your back. âThe kidâs is gonna kill me for letting you get all dirty.â
The hand stroking gently down your back is surprisingly soft, despite the callouses and ridges of his fingertips. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, probably trying to deduce what to do. âYouâre a mess,â he mutters, his gaze drifting over your disheveled coat.
You can feel the urge to roll your eyes at the manâs words, the comment practically begging for a sarcastic reaction. But you hold it back, reminding yourself of the delicious meal youâre hoping to get out of him. Better hold back on the sass, for now.
Instead, you let your tail flick idly, trying to appear as innocent and pitiful as possible. Come on, man. Have a heart. Feed me.
The dude glances down as your tail continues to flick against his arm, almost as if youâre trying to lure him into doing something for you. A light snort escapes his mouth, his fingers trailing down to give you a little scratch on the head. âYouâre a sly little bastard, ainât ya?â
His statement is more of an off-handed comment rather than an actual critique. He continues to scratch behind your ear, seemingly unable to resist giving you a little affection. His gaze drifts over your disheveled form, taking in the dirt-matted fur and slight exhaustion in your eyes.
He lets out a soft grunt, his touch gentle as he runs his hands through your fur. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, his eyes never leaving your disheveled appearance. âHow long you been out here all alone, huh?â he mutters, his voice gruff but strangely sympathetic.
The man lets out a low huff, glancing down at you with an almost sympathetic look on his face. âItâs earlier than we planned,â the man mutters, a hint of regret coating his words. His hand still softly stroking through your fur. âBut the renovations are nearly ready,â his eyes taking in your exhausted form. Itâs hard to say if heâs talking to you or to himself, a note of assurance in his voice. âSo soon, kid.â
You look up at him with a bewildered expression on your face, your little mind still trying to make sense of his words. What is he talking about? Renovations? Whoâs he talking to? Who are the people he keeps mentioning? What is even happening right now? But you quickly cover it up and let out a tired-sounding meow, hoping he wonât notice the hint of confusion in your little feline face. He glances down at you, his hand slowly rubbing a soothing circle on your back.
âDonât worry, little one,â he murmurs, his voice still gruff but the tone softer this time. âYouâll be safe soon enough.â He gives you a gentle pat on the head before resuming his stride. You can feel his arms cradling you against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat almost lulling you into a sense of security.
Even as your mind races with unanswered questions, the beat of the manâs heartbeat seems to soothe you, acting as a strange form of comfort. His warm arms keep you tucked against him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest steady and unhurried. Itâs an almost reassuring presence.
The man carries you down the street, the rhythmic sound of his footsteps and steady rhythm of his heart slowly lulling you into a trance-like state. The exhaustion from the past few days is finally catching up to you, a small yawn escaping your little mouth before you can try to fight it.
You can feel your eyelids growing heavy, exhaustion taking over your small body. The steady rhythm of the manâs heart combined with the gentle rocking of his arms as he walks send a wave of fatigue through you. You try to fight back the overwhelming tiredness, but another small, squeaky yawn escapes your little mouth.
With a soft contented sigh, you stretch out your little paws, making yourself comfortable in his arms. The man lets out a low chuckle as he watches your little legs extend, giving you a gentle pat on the back.
Itâs strangely comforting, being held in the manâs strong arms. The sound of his laughter rumbles through his chest, and you can almost hear a hint of affection in the gesture. You feel the weight of your fatigue start to increase, your eyes slowly blinking shut against your will.
You blearily blink your eyes open, suddenly finding yourself lying on a soft cushion. The fabric feels luxurious against your fur, the plush material enveloping you in a comfortable embrace. You dazedly look around, trying to recall how you ended up on this soft surface.
Your little ears fold back as you look around, slowly taking in your surroundings. A brief moment of confusion washes over you as you realize that you had fallen asleep in the manâs arms. But seeing him still here, you let out a relieved sigh, your entire fluffy body moving up and down in the process. Thank everything that he didnât leave me on the side of the road.
He glances over at you, noticing that youâre now awake. âYou finally back with the living?â he says gruffly, his voice tinged with amusement. You can see a hint of a smile on the manâs face, betraying his hard exterior.
You lift your chin up in a defiant huff, letting your tail flick against the soft cushion as an additional statement of irritation. The man lets out a snort, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter at your small act of feigned irritation.
âFeisty little thing, arenât you?â he mutters, his voice taking on a slightly amused tone. He reaches a hand out to give you a small pat on the head, his rough fingers gently stroking your fur.
Your chest lets out a soft rumble, purring at the feeling of his hand stroking through your fur. Your gaze drifts around the room, your nose twitching as you pick up on a delicious scent. Food, your stomach rumbles. Please, be food.
The aroma is tantalizing, making your little stomach grumble loudly in response. You wonder if it's your imagination, or if the man actually has food nearby. The man lets out another amused huff as he notices your nose twitching and your stomach rumbling. âImpatient little thing, eh?â he mutters, lifting his hand from your head to look at you with a slightly entertained expression. Your little paws twitch slightly, as if youâre preparing to go searching for where the wonderful scent is coming from.
He chuckles at your eagerness, his eyes crinkling at the corners. âCalm down, bud,â he says gruffly. âFoodâs coming in a minute. Ainât gonna starve ya.ââ He gives you another gentle pat on the head, his hand large enough to practically cover your entire body.
You let out a dissatisfied huff, your gaze still darting around to try and find the source of the delicious scent. You want to rush out and find the food immediately, but the man's large hand keeps you pressed firmly on the soft cushion. You squirm a little impatiently, your tail flicking idly against the fabric. Your cat instincts taking over.
He lets out an amused laugh at your squirming, your restlessness making it hard for him to keep you in place. âHold still,â he says gruffly. âYou're making it hard to keep you in one place.â He reaches his hands out again and gently holds you down, preventing you from moving around any further.
Youâre not a fan of this guy keeping you down, your instincts flaring up in defiance. Despite the delicious promise of food in the air, youâre tempted to lash out and scratch him just for holding you in one spot. Release me, your inner self growls.
You pause in your struggle, your little ears perking up and your whiskers twitching as the clink of dishes and the soft sound of footsteps approaching comes from nearby. Your nose twitches with anticipation, the delicious smells in the air becoming more concentrated. Food.
You crane your head to get a better look at the approaching figure, your little body shifting slightly on the cushion. The man holding you down also looks up, watching as someone walks into the room carrying a tray of food. Your little mouth starts to salivate, the enticing scents wafting over to you and making your stomach rumble loudly.
The guy releases his grip once you stop squirming, letting you move freely again. You can feel your instincts taking over your little body, your tail curling around your side as you focus your attention on the tray of food being presented in front of you. âHere you are, Master Jason.â
Your eyes are almost glued to the tray, filled with the most tantalizing smells that you've come across. The manâ Jason watches you quietly, amused by your little display. The person holding the tray sets the food down in front of you, the various dishes arranged in an almost tempting manner.
You want to purr in delight as you look at the food laid before you. Thank god thereâs none of that dreadful cat food in sight. You've had your fair share of people trying to feed you that horrible kibble in the past, and you're definitely not a fan. This food smells a million times better than anything that ever came out of a can. Meat.
You shoot him a glance of appreciation before hopping onto the table, greedily pouncing on the food in front of you. You dive right in, devouring the food with gusto, your little tongue lapping at the meat hungrily.
You pay no mind to him as you feast on the delicious meal laid out in front of you. The smells, the texture, the taste; itâs all absolutely heavenly. You eat like you've never eaten before, your little body almost shaking with contentment. This might just be the best meal youâve had in a long time. Maybe ever.
Meanwhile, Jason watches your little display with a slight smirk on his face. He doesnât say anything, just watching as you devour the food on the plate in front of you with relish. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, quickly taking a picture of you digging into the food to send to the family in case they ask how you're doing. He lets out a soft huff of amusement at your behavior, a hint of fondness in his eyes.
You're so lost in the food, you don't even notice the older man taking a picture of you. All your focus is singular, eating as much as you can before itâs taken away. The man watches you with a mix of amusement and something else that you canât quite place. Too absorbed in your meal to notice his reaction.
Once youâve practically licked the plate clean, you finally feel a sense of fullness, your little belly pleasantly satisfying. You give yourself a little shake, a little bit of food still stuck to your whiskers. Jason chuckles slightly, watching your little satisfied display. He breaks the silence as you finish cleaning yourself off.
âHad enough?â he asks in a gruff voice. His words are gruff and blunt, but you can sense the touch of amusement within them. You let out a little huff, feeling satisfied but also a little bit embarrassed at how fast you had eaten. Too much food, you think, your little stomach feeling a bit bloated.
The next thirty minutes pass by in a blur, your mind fuzzy and filled with the sensation of being inside Jasonâs leather jacket as he mounts his bike. He doesn't have a bag or carrier to keep you secure, so you cling onto his shirt for dear life, your little claws digging tightly into the fabric. The wind whips through your fur as the bike roars to life, the force of the breeze making you instinctively cling even harder.
You had assumed that Jason was simply taking you back to the spot where he had found you under the car. After all, there was no chance in hell that you were going to poke your head out of the top of his jacket to check yourself. However, as he stops the bike and unzips the jacket, revealing your familiar surroundings, your tail begins to fluff up in surprise. Your eyes widen as you realize youâre at home, as in, right outside your apartment. The fur on your back bristles, ears folding back. Youâre quick to jump off of the vehicle, backing away. What the fuck?
You scramble off Jason's lap and onto the sidewalk, your little paws almost slipping in your haste. The moment you land on the pavement, you take a few stumbling steps back, your tail puffed up and your fur standing on end. How could he possibly know where you live? You hadnât given away any indication that you lived here, or anywhere for that matter. You had been so careful to stay out of sight, blending into the shadows. There was no way he could have known. And yet⊠here you are, outside your home. You take a tentative step back, your little feet moving instinctively. Your instincts are screaming at you to run, to get away from this guy who seemingly knew too much about you.
Your eyes dart from the man to the building behind you, your mind racing. Everything inside you is telling you to run, to flee and go hide. You were supposed to be so careful, so cautious about keeping your identity a secret. And now this man standing in front of you, this guy you barely knew, had just pulled up right outside your home. How the hell did he know where you lived? Run, your instincts yell. Run, run, run.
You take another jerky step back, your little paws almost slipping on the rough pavement. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You almost trip over your own feet, your mind flooded with a mix of fear and confusion. How does he know? How the fuck does he know!? Youâve been so careful, covering your tracks, making sure no one followed you home. But here he is, standing in front of you, looking all too calm and collected. You donât know whatâs worse, the fact that he knows where you live or how calm he seems about it.
You don't waste another second, your little feet moving as fast as they can. Your instincts are screaming at you to run and get away as fast as possible. So that's what you do. You take off like a shot, darting away from the bike, from the man, from everything. Your focus is on nothing except getting away, getting somewhere safe, somewhere away from this guy who apparently knew more than he should. You dart upstairs faster than you thought physically possible, breath coming out laboured as you panic, not bothering to check if anyoneâs nearby as you shift back to human, unlocking your door and slamming it closed behind you.
Jason let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair in frustration as he watches you scamper off. "FuckâŠâ he mutters under his breath, watching as your small form quickly disappears from sight. "I didnât think that through." He scowls, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He hadnât expected you to panic quite that much.
Your knees suddenly give way, and you collapse to the floor with a thump. Your hand instinctively moves to press against your chest, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. Your mind is racing, your body shaking from the adrenaline and panic of the situation. Youâre suddenly hyper-aware of your own breathing, your chest heaving as you gasp in sharp breaths.
You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, the adrenaline pumping through your veins making it feel like itâs about to explode. You can barely breathe, your gasps for air coming in quick, sharp pants. Your head is swimming, the world around you seeming to spin and tilt with each jerky movement. You canât think straight, your mind filled with a swirling mix of panic and confusion. It feels like everything is closing in on you, the walls of your apartment suddenly feeling claustrophobic.
You try to focus on taking deep, calming breaths, but your body doesnât seem to want to cooperate. Your breaths come out ragged and uneven, each one feeling like a struggle. Your chest is heaving, your heart pounding against your ribcage so hard youâre starting to wonder if itâll burst. You drop your head down, resting your forehead against your knees, trying to steady yourself. Your mind is racing, thoughts and questions and doubts swirling in a confusing mess.
You desperately try to calm down, to ease the frantic beating of your heart. But nothing seems to work, the panic and confusion making it nearly impossible to think straight. Your head spins as you struggle to take deep breaths, each one catching in your throat like a lump. You can feel your body trembling, your muscles tense and coiled like a spring about to snap. The thought of the man outside your door, the man that knew where you lived, makes your stomach twist in knots.
It feels like your privacy has been invaded, your safe sanctuary no longer feeling so safe. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a small, trapped animal. Your mind races, trying to come up with some kind of plan, some kind of solution to this messed up situation. But youâre too lost in your own head, too focused on calming your panicked breathing to come up with anything coherent.
You feel like youâre drowning, your body overwhelmed by the flood of emotions and the physical response. You need to get yourself under control, to get your thoughts sorted out and figure out what the hell to do. But it feels like your mind and your body are in a constant tug-of-war with each other, neither one willing to give in. Itâs like being stuck in a nightmare that you canât wake up from.
Youâre suddenly aware of the silence in your apartment. Itâs an eerie stillness that seems to echo the chaos in your mind. The only sound is the soft rush of your own breathing, the beat of your heart a steady drum in your ears. Itâs too quiet, and yet itâs almost deafening at the same time. You stay slumped on the floor, your head still against your knees, too overwhelmed to even think about getting up. You canât breathe.
Your lungs feel like theyâre on fire, each breath a struggle against the tight feeling in your chest. Your body is shaking, the adrenaline and panic having physical effects that youâre powerless to stop. You try to focus on calming yourself down, to get your breathing under control, but itâs like trying to hold onto water. Your lungs seizing up with each gasping breath. You try to focus on your breathing, trying to steady the erratic rhythm. But itâs like your body wonât obey, each inhale sharp and uneven, each exhale ragged. You can feel your pulse throbbing in your temples, echoing the desperate rhythm of your heart. You need to get yourself together, to calm down. You need to calm down.
You try to mentally force yourself to calm, to slow down your breathing, but itâs like every part of your body is working against you. Your thoughts are a tangled mess, swirling around in your head like a storm. Your heart is still racing, the panic and fear making it almost impossible to concentrate. You try to focus on something, anything to try and control the chaotic mess that is your mind. But your thoughts keep slipping away, dancing just out of reach every time you try to grasp them. You can't think, you can't breathe, you can't move.
Youâre trapped in your own mind, your own body. You feel so small, so helpless, so utterly alone. The silence in your apartment is deafening, adding to the feeling of isolation. You try to will yourself to move, but youâre stuck, paralyzed by your own fear and panic. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, the erratic beats echoing in your ears as you try to force your lungs to take slow, steady breaths. You need to calm down. You need to.
You force your shoulders to relax, your eyes fluttering open. Okay, okay⊠You can do this. You try to remember the steps you learned for managing panic attacks. Breathe in for four, hold for⊠You canât think. Your brain is fuzzy, filled with a jumbled mess of thoughts and memories. You try to remember the proper way to do it but your mind refuses to cooperate. Four or seven? Or was it nine? Exhale for eight. Fuck, I canât think.
Your mind is a blur, your thoughts chaotic and tangled. You canât remember the step-by-step process. Something about breathing in for a certain number of seconds, holding it, and exhaling for another number of seconds. But the details are a hazy mess, your panic making it impossible to remember clearly. You try your best, sucking in a shaky breath and holding it for what you think is the right amount of time. But your heart is still racing, your hands still trembling. Itâs not working. Why isnât it working? Why the fuck isnât it working?
Jason stands against his bike, his gaze fixed on the window of your apartment. He's on the phone with Bruce, his voice low and filled with frustration. "I know, I knowâŠ" he mutters, raking a hand through his hair. "I fucked up," he admits, grimacing at his own carelessness.
He listens as Bruce responds, his eyes never leaving the window. He can feel the weight of his mistake sitting heavily on his shoulders. He should have known that you'd react the way you did, and he should have stuck to the plan. But he didnât. He just acted, without thinking. Just like always, his conscience needles him.
Jason sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly as Bruce continues to speak. He knows Bruce is right, he always is. Heâs good at saying the things that are hard to hear but desperately needed to be said. Itâs part of what makes him great, but it also makes him irritating sometimes. Like right now.
"I know," Jason replies, his voice slightly sharp. "I get it. But what am I supposed to do now?"
Thereâs a pause as Bruce replies, his voice muffled over the phone. Jasonâs face tightens, his jaw clenching as he listens. Yeah, yeah. Be patient. Easy for you to say.
"I know,â he repeats, his voice strained. "But the kid bolted before I could even get a word in. Now theyâre probably scared shitless in there."
There's another pause. Jason can hear the steady timbre of Bruceâs voice on the other end, his words blending in a stream of low, soothing murmurs. He rolls his eyes, bristling at the older man's calm, steady tone. It always makes him feel like a kid being lectured, even though a part of him knows itâs not entirely untrue.
He lets out another sigh, his body sagging against his bike. "Iâm trying," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I messed up, alright? Iâll give âem time to cool off." He glances back at your apartment, a pang of something he canât quite identify tugging at his chest.
He nods along to whatever Bruce is saying, his eyes flickering back to your apartment window. He wonders if you're watching him from behind those blinds, if youâre scared, angry, confused. Probably all three, his mind supplies.
He winces at the thought, his hand tightening around his phone. He hates the thought that he might have screwed this up before it even really started. Bruce is probably right, he should give you space. But the thought of just leaving you alone and confused chafes at him, makes him want to just go in there and fix things already. He knows Bruce can feel his tension, can sense the turmoil roiling beneath his stoic exterior. Damn Batman and his stupid emotional intuition.
"Yeah, I get it," he mutters into the phone, his voice tight. "Iâll back off, give them space. But I donât like it." There's another pause as Bruce responds, his voice low and steady.
It soothes something in him, a part of him that still yearns for guidance and approval, even though he knows heâll never admit it. Itâs a part of him that he usually denies, pushes down, but moments like these have a way of bringing it to the surface.
He's silent for a moment, letting Bruce speak. The older man's voice is steady, a low, grounding murmur that somehow manages to both soothe and irritate him at the same time. He's always been good at that, somehow finding the exact words needed to either calm him down or piss him off even more.
Jason clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth together in frustration. Heâs torn. Part of him wants to just march up there, kick down the door and force you to talk to him. But he also knows that would just make things worse. Heâs not good at the whole patience thing, but he knows that just charging in like a bull in a china shop is only going to make things more difficult. Damn it. He swings his leg over his bike, settling onto the seat. He takes one final look up at your window, his gaze lingering there for a moment. He can almost feel the weight of your fear and confusion from here, like a tangible thing. It makes his stomach twist into knots, his hands clenching on the grips.
But he knows he needs to let you be, to give you the space you clearly need. So, with a heavy sigh, he revs the engine and pulls away.
You wake up with a start, your body jerking out of a fitful sleep. Your body is covered in a cold sweat, your clothes sticking to your skin in an unpleasant way. You sit there in the darkness, your breathing heavy and your heart thumping hard in your chest.
Your room is still, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft sounds of the city outside your window.
Three long weeks have passed since you last saw Jason. The days have slipped by in a blur of routine and monotony. You go to work, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. It's like you're living your life on autopilot, your thoughts often drifting to the man who showed up at your door that night.
Since that night, you havenât shifted. Something deep inside you, some instinctual feeling, tells you that itâs not safe to do so. So you stay human, your animal form buried deep within you, a constant low hum of unease. The feeling of something bad happening if you shift is a constant nagging in the back of your mind, a feeling you canât shake despite your attempts to dismiss it as paranoia.
The longer you stay human, the stronger your instincts become. You catch yourself acting cat-like in subtle ways: tilting your head to the side when you're listening, twitching at sharp noises, even finding yourself kneading at your shirt when youâre frustrated. Itâs a constant internal struggle, your instincts demanding to be let out while your rational mind tells you to keep them contained. You know itâs not healthy, not sustainable, but you canât shake the feeling that shifting is just too risky right now.
Youâre acutely aware of how unhealthy this is. You can feel the tension building within you, the constant battle between your human side and your animal side wearing you down mentally and emotionally. Your thoughts are constantly consumed with the need to shift, the need to be in your animal form, the need to let your instincts take over. But something inside you is holding you back, some primal fear that wonât let you let go. Itâs a constant struggle you canât escape, a constant mental strain that's slowly but surely eating away at your sanity.
You groggily stumble out of bed, the cool night air hitting your skin like a refreshing splash of water. Itâs late, the digital clock on your bedside table reading 2:47 AM. You shiver slightly, your muscles tight and cramped from your restless sleep. Despite the chill in the air, you canât help the feeling of relief as you step out onto your balcony. The city is quiet at this hour, the usual bustle of the day replaced with a soothing, almost eerie calm.
In a moment of clarity, you realize youâre being ridiculous. Youâre tired, youâre frustrated, and damn it youâre tired of living in constant fear. Youâve been tormenting yourself for weeks over this, letting your instincts fester and your body ache from the strain. And for what? What's going to happen in the middle of the night on a Wednesday? Nothing, thatâs what. And youâre not going to keep making yourself ill over some bastard stalker.
With a rush of determination, you finally give in. You let your instincts take over, your body shifting and contorting into your animal form. The relief is immediate, the tension in your body melting away as you shed your human skin. The cool night air is even more refreshing in this form, your senses heightened as you take in the night around you. Finally, you feel like you can breathe again, the weight of your human anxieties falling away like a heavy coat. You felt free.
The world looks different through your animal eyes, the details sharper and more defined. Your ears twitch, picking up sounds you'd never notice in your human form. Your muscles twitch as your animal instincts kick in, a low purring sound rumbling through your chest. It's been so long since you've let yourself be like this, since you've just been. It's exhilarating, freeing, like coming up for air after being stranded underwater for too long.
You pad over to the edge of the balcony, your paws making almost no sound on the wood. You look out at the city, the glittering lights and silent streets a stark contrast to the chaotic hum during the day. Itâs quieter, calmer, a sense of peace that you havenât felt in ages. You take a deep breath, the air filling your lungs and making your fur stand on end. You feel more alive here, more yourself, than you have in weeks.
Your muscles ripple under your fur as you stretch, arching your back and tilting your head back. A low, rumbling purr vibrates in your chest, the contentment filling you almost overwhelming. You close your eyes, letting the sounds and smells of the city wash over you. Youâll deal with everything else in the morning. For now, youâre going to stay like this and enjoy the freedom.
You sit there for a while, enjoying the cool night air and the sensation of being so deeply in tune with your instincts. The city sounds become a soothing background noise, a comforting hum in the air. You roll onto your back, stretching out your body and letting your limbs go limp. Your tail swishes lazily back and forth.
You roll onto your stomach, your muscles coiling as you prepare to spring. With a powerful leap, you propel yourself onto the nearby roof. Your paws touch down silently, the soft pads muting any sound. Your heart is racing now, the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you break into a run. Running as an animal is different than running as a human. Itâs more instinctual, more right. You can feel the ground underneath your paws, the muscles in your legs bunching and releasing with every step. You tear across the rooftops, feeling more alive than you have in weeks. The night air whistles in your ears, the city passing by in a blur.
Your stride is effortless, muscles straining as you push yourself faster, the wind ruffling your fur and making your tail fan out behind you. You leap effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop, your body a blur of motion. Youâre not even thinking about where youâre going, your only focus is on the sensation of speed, the feeling of freedom. Gotham flashes past you in a dizzying array of lights and shadows, your world narrowing down to your heartbeat and the rhythm of your paws hitting the roof.
Time seems to blur together as you run, the hours flying by like seconds. The city blurs past you in a wash of colors and sounds, the lights of Gotham like stars in a night sky. You donât focus on how long youâve been running, or how far youâve gone, or even where youâre going. For once, none of that matters. All that matters is the wind in your fur and the feeling of freedom coursing through your veins. Your body is sore and your heart is racing, but you feel alive.
You're so focused on the run that you don't notice the black boots in your path until you're upon them. You slam on the brakes, your body slipping and sliding as you come to an undignified halt in front of a pair of long, outstretched legs. You hiss in surprise and frustration, your heart racing from the sudden stop. You glare up at the figure towering above you, tail lashing.
Nightwing chuckles, a soft, amused sound that you can hear clearly even over the pounding of your heart. He lowers his eskrima sticks, holding them loosely by his side as he kneels down to your level. The hero's eyes are sparkling with mirth, his smile slightly crooked.
"Well, hello there." he says, his voice smooth and rich.
He tilts his head to the side, studying you with a curious gaze. You're still panting from your run, your body tense and braced for a fight. Nightwing's smile widens at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with intrigue.
"You're pretty fast," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice. He extends his hand towards you, the black, latex covering his fingers gleaming in the low light. He stops just millimeters from your face, allowing you to sniff and inspect him for a moment. His scent is clean and crisp, a hint of something sweet mixed in.
After a few seconds, he starts gently petting you, his gloved hand scratching behind your ears in a soothing motion. âYouâre even prettier in person, kitten.â
A wave of unexpected pleasure washes over you as he starts petting you. His touch is firm yet gentle, just the right amount of pressure to soothe the tension in your body. His hand moves from behind your ears to scratching behind your chin, the soft hiss of latex against your fur the only sound in the quiet night. The petting feels ten times better after not shifting after such a long time. You lean heavily into his palm.
âYouâre a runner, huh?â Nightwing murmurs, his voice a soft rumble. âBruce isnât gonna like that.â
His words are casual, almost conversational, but thereâs an undercurrent of seriousness to them. He continues to pet you, his hand moving in a slow, soothing rhythm.
âRunning around Gotham like this,â he continues, his tone dropping lower. âItâs dangerous. You should stick to the rooftops, little one. Makes it harder for the baddies to get to you.â
As your attention is occupied with looking up at Nightwing, you donât recognise the second pair of boots that approach. Youâre jolted out of your thoughts as another pair of warm hands suddenly scoop you up, grabbing your stomach and lifting you off the ground. The sensation is so sudden and unexpected that you donât even have time to react. A startled yowl escapes you as youâre lifted off the roof and held against a broad chest.
Your body stiffens in surprise, a low hiss escaping your clenched teeth. Your instincts are screaming at you to flee, to lash out, to fight, but the hands have you in an unbreakable grip.
Nightwing straightens up, sliding his eskrima sticks into their holsters with a practiced flick of his wrists. He casts you a glance, his eyes softened with concern as he looks at your tense form in Robinâs arms.
"Careful, Little D," he says, a slight edge to his voice. "The kitty hasnât been out in a long time."
Damian just scoffs in response, his grip on you tightening. His body is tense, his hands clenching in your fur, but thereâs a gleam of curiosity in his eyes that betrays his indifference. His voice is as haughty as ever, a touch of impatience in his tone. "I know that, Grayson. I'm not a child."
Nightwing hums at Robinâs attitude, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against a nearby AC unit with a slight sigh.
"Sure you're not,â he responds back to Robin with a playful tone of annoyance.
Damian just huffs, tightening his grip on you, causing you to let out a surprised, muffled meow in response. His eyes dart down to you, a slight flicker of fascination in his cold, calculated gaze. He loosens his hold subconsciously. Petting your head in a silent apology.
The younger boy doesnât respond to Dickâs remark, motioning for him to hurry up already.
With a grin, Dick holds his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. He reaches into his utility belt and procures a small, emerald green and black collar. A symbol you canât recognise embroidered onto the back where the latch is.
This isn't any average collar that you can find at a pet store. This is high-tech, bordering extravagant. There's a small, golden bell hanging from the front, jingling softly with every little movement made, and thereâs a silver, gold-edged tag already attached with some information you can't see yet. But what catches your eye, and fills you with a sense of dread, is the blinking red light on the centre, where it latches onto your neck. With these hook-like latches all around the inside that look all too much like theyâll pierce into you.
Before you can even think to react, Nightwing's already moving. He's faster than you can even register, the collar snatching around your neck in the blink of an eye. It tightens automatically, locking into place with a soft click. You can feel the hooks pierce into your fur and you let out a strangled whine.
As the collar locks into place, the bell on the front gleams in the low light, a soft jingle sounding as you jerk your head back in surprise.
Nightwing steps back, taking in the sight of you in the collar with a critical eye. He reaches forward and gives the bell a couple of light taps, the sound chiming softly in the night air.
"Looks good," he comments, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Tim did good."
Damian hums in agreeance with a slight nod, his grip on you still firm and unrelenting. He casts a scrutinising glance over your form, his eyes lingering on the collar for a moment before moving back to you. He brings his thumb to the latch, pushing into the embroidered symbol. âWhat was the cast?â
As Damian brings his thumb to the latch, pressing into the embroidered symbol, you hear a soft click, followed by a low chime. You feel the collar loosen around your neck, but it still stays in place. For a moment, you consider trying to tear it off, but a warning tug from the collar's hooks and a glare from Damian stop you short.
Dick grins. âItâs our kittens name, D.â
Damian scowls, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he turns his attention back to you, his eyes studying your form intently. It's almost unnerving, the intensity of his gaze.
He presses his thumb against the seal harder, his voice a murmur as he utters your name. When you feel the collar tighten around your neck, you try to jerk your head back out of the way, but the collar holds fast, the hooks attaching themselves deeper into your fur. You try to resist, but the more you struggle, the more your mind grows fuzzy. An intense drowsiness rushes over you, your eyelids growing impossibly heavy. Your vision starts to swim, the world around you growing dark at the edges. As the collar locks into place, the hooks latching more snugly into you, you suddenly feel trapped. Your legs buckle underneath you, sending you sprawling into Damian's arms. The latch on the collar is gone, replaced by a solid, unbreakable ring. There is no way to take it off.
The collar appears deceptively normal, made of a thick dark green leather-like material with a simple golden buckle to secure it. The only thing that gives away its high-tech design is the absence of a latch to clip it open. Most people would overlook it, mistaking it for a regular, ordinary collar.
As you black out and lay heavily in Damian's arms, Dick coos softly, bringing a hand out to rub along your fur. His touch is gentle, his tone affectionate.
"Aren't they so cute asleep?" he whispers, his gaze softening as he looks at your unconscious form.
Damian nods silently in response, his embrace around you tightening just slightly, tugging you closer against his chest. He brings his face down, gently nuzzling his chin into your soft, multicoloured fur, hiding the hint of a smile on his lips.
Dick steps forward, a smile on his face as he watches his younger brother hold you close. He reaches out to ruffle Damian's hair affectionately, before speaking up.
"Let's go home."
Guess who spent three days working on this
Anyway, itâs finally out! Send a comment or msg if you would like to be @ in chapter two and for any anon answers that I do for the fic
I had milk and warm cookies while making this, like a child.
#x reader#cat hybrid#cat reader#yandere batfam#yandere batfamily#yandere dc#yandere batboys#yandere batboys x reader#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfamily x reader#batfamily#batfam#batboys#yandere damian wayne#yandere robin#yandere tim drake#yandere red robin#yandere jason todd#yandere red hood#yandere nightwing#yandere dick grayson#yandere bruce wayne#yandere batman#batboys x reader#batfamily x reader#batfam x reader#yandere x reader#gn reader#platonic yandere#dark batfam
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
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
Heâd 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.
Heâd 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.
#x reader#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x reader#tim drake x reader#batboys x reader#dc x reader#batfamily#batfamily x reader#red hood x reader#nightwing x reader#red robin x reader
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
FAN BEHAVIOR
characters: dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake summary: batboys with a celebrity! reader content/warnings: fem! reader, fluff
DICK GRAYSON
Youâre 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 youâre invited to a wayne enterprise charity gala, you contemplate not going â 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 youâre insane for even considering declining
Youâll forever be grateful that she urged you to do so because thatâs where you meet Dick
Heâs 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, âIâm a huge fan! Iâve been watching your stuff since you were in Legends of the Kingdom!â 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 heâs obnoxious.
Youâre definitely the âit coupleâ 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 Dickâs former girlfriends; that youâre not his type, that this isnât going to last, etc., or that youâre 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 itâs 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 laughterÂ
So many intentional and unintentional thirst trap couples pics. Like, a selfie you post one morning â Dick is shirtless and youâre in one of his old t-shirts and its sliding down your shoulder and showing your collarbone and youâre both laying on your stomachs in your shared bed, hair sleep (and sex) tousled with the morning sun making both of you look like youâre golden and glowingÂ
JASON TODD
You meet Jason as Red Hood first when youâre running from the paparazzi but you donât know itâs him
They chase you down a couple of blocks before someone tugs you into an alleyway and youâre 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, âI hate the paps and you looked like you needed a hand.â
Once heâs 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 Dostoevskyâs Crime and Punishment.Â
Youâre disappointed when you arrive at your hotel and youâre rush inside to find a pad to scribble your number on but heâs gone when you return, disappearing into the night
Itâs by chance that you meet him again (unbeknownst to you), this time in his civilian identity as Jason Todd. Youâre 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 canât put your finger on why)Â
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 heâs 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 doesnât take long for them to figure out that heâs dating you but he makes them promise to keep it to themselves.Â
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, heâs 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, Jasonâs 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.Â
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 bothÂ
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 heâs 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
Youâve 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 youâre now a well-known supermodelÂ
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 âwhen will someone look at me like that?â
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. Heâs kind, brilliant, funny, attentive, and very handsome. Itâs not that you didnât know that before but itâs different now. You find yourself shying away his casual touches and suddenly conscious of your actions around him â did you laugh too loud? Is your hair in your face? Does he know how you feel? Can he tell?
You donât 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 âthanks!â text back instead of the usual âTHANK Uâ followed by five heart emojis.Â
He confronts you about it one day and youâve never really been a good liar in front of him so you tell him, bracing for a gentle rejection but instead receiving a kiss.Â
You made a hard launch post with him on Instagram and received hundreds of DMs of people saying they were vindicated in believing that âfriends donât look at each other like thatâ
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
Youâre 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 â itâs in almost every video compilation thatâs titled something like â15 minutes of Tim Drake being a simpâ
#ⶠnove writes#dc comics x reader#dc x reader#dick grayson x reader#nightwing x reader#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#tim drake x reader#red robin x reader#nightwing scenario#nightwing imagine#red hood scenario#red hood imagine#red robin scenario#red robin imagine#dc comics imagine#batboys x reader#fic: fan behavior
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
prequel: again &. again. (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: prequel, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1
read until the end for an author's note.
what hurts more when it comes to neglectful batfam that adopted you after jason's death (that eventually turns a 360 after you have left) is probably the fact that they always had time for you, it's just that they never chose to spend it on you; an extra burden to their family rather than an addition. if they had time to spend, they spend it on anything or anyone else but you. it's not that you don't share interests with them, it's just...! they have way more priorities that push you further back into their list of 'to do's'; though you know you'll always be the last of that list.
bruce has to juggle so many tasks as the billionaire playboy "brucie wayne", a father of an ever growing family, and gotham's dark knight vigilante but somehow, you're aware he could easily fit in one or two more children into his already booked scheduleâ he just never seems to consider you worthy enough apparently. or maybe it was because you were too silent, you set boundaries compared to your other family who are outspoken about what they want, what they needâ but there's one thing for sure that sets you off from your siblings; you're not a vigilante.
you were merely a child of a one night stand; a child raised too well. you were behaved, you never complained, and you were just, you. and being normal (at least in their level of extraordinary talents were you a mere droplet) amongst a family of talented individuals makes you easily a ghost. was bruce to blame with his neglect? definitely. if he was able to balance his life so easily, then maybe as the world's best detective would he notice you packing your things day by day without update. maybe that was why you never once hesitated the moment you stepped outside the manor, permanently.
dick's excuse would always be "sorry, baby bird! but i promised to spar with damian today. ah, but you can watch from the sidelines!" or he would be too busy saving bludhaven to even acknowledge your presence. sure, he smiles at you with those shiny teeth of his, but despite him looking at you, he never notices you for more than a second, right after he would skidadle his way to another sibling's room, bothering them to spend more time with him, never you though. it occurs to you that he has only entered your bedroom once, and that occurrence was years ago. even then, he didn't last a minute inside there before running away once more.
family matters more than anything to dick. hell, he was enraged at the announcement of jason's death and even beat joker to a bloody pulp when he realized tim fell into his hands. he's ready to defend damian, barbara, steph, cass, and duke with his life. it's his duty and obligation as the family's eldest brother, of course. but were you considered family to him? were you considered a sibling in his eyes, or were you just the resident roommate of the mansion? you question that endlessly because everyone, family and friends, seem to be smitted with dick, but you eventually gave up trying to vye for his attention. it's fine, really, if you were just another civilian to him, because he was just another person to you too. just like in a circus, you would always be the intermission rather than the main event. and with that, you take your leave.
jason was the most forgivable to you, second to tim. he was never there, and he would've probably put effort into spending time with you if not for the fact he despises bruce and the mansion and wouldn't and couldn't last a second stepping into it. he never met you when he was robin, it was only right after his death did he discover were you taken in and that added fact alongside tim being his replacement turned him bitter with resentment. though his hatred for you receded over time, he wouldn't really be caught taking a minute with you because he always sneaks inside the mansion and crime in gotham never seems to lessen. because of that, and your unwillingness to become a vigilante to kick ass with him and the others, he wouldn't be able to fully take an hour with you.
casual talks are unavoidable, though, when at the dead of the night he would be caught sneaking in to eat some leftovers and you were conveniently awake at the same time as him. he'll recommend you some classic literature he read or 'cafes/restaurants that criminals visit the least' lists, but before it would turn into a full conversation, jason would already be wearing his signature mask again, and with a pat on your head and a "talk to you soon, can't guarantee it'll be tomorrow again though, only here for alfred's meals of course," and he'll be gone. you shouldn't have let your hopes high, you wished you didn't because, duh! he wasn't there to talk to you, specifically. you were just there to bide his time! wiping tears away from your eyes, and with a heavy heart, you book an apartment away from the wayne manor with your own atm card; hope irreversibly dead and unable to revive a sliver of faith, even if it was dipped in the lazarus pit would it never come back as the same.
tim drake is always tired. just like bruce, his days are filled with investigation, crime fighting, and worst of all; high school. that's of course that least of his worries the moment he drops out. tim was never the guy to talk much. he only does when he needs to make an impression for others, or when he needs to manipulate people for potential information. his life revolved around fighting, from when he solved the case of bruce wayne and dick grayson being batman and robin respectively, up to his current identity as red robin and occasionally robin. he'll often be found in the batcave working with babs on a case or working alone in his room.
it's no mistake that you were the most distant to him, never once knowing about his interests or even hobbies and vice versa. it was a given that at the very moment you pass a glance at him, you knew it was a 'mind your business' type of relationship with him. if you were a mere ghost to dick, then you were just a spec of dust to tim. it was unfair to assume he would never care for you, he does! only in a way where you were another person to save if you ever were endangered, but would that be enough to stalk you to the point he gains every insight about you? not really. you weren't one of his friends, like kon who he would spend weekly video game challenges with; and you probably don't exist as his sibling in his own little world filled with coffee and computers. yeah, your feelings about leaving him weren't as bitter as the caffeine he drowns in his system, but you were still hurt either way.
damian wayne, from his birth, was taught and raised to prioritize his mission as an al ghul, to be the one continuing the legacy and to shed blood on anyone who opposes. when he was given over to bruce, it took a hell lot of effort to turn a new page and become the next robin. it was, with no doubt, that despite his 'redemption', he would be a tad bit crueler to you than the others. unlike tim, who he persistently bothers, you were untalented, worthless, and a stain on the reputation of the wayne's. even jason, his father's greatest mistake, had more value than you.
maybe it was fine-tuned jealousy, maybe he was mirroring his father and dick's actions towards you with his own sick twist of violence. either way, you would rather avoid the boy, lest you face the wrath of his sword. it wouldn't be wrong if you came to hate him, actually you do, but despite your endless game of cat and mouse with you as the unwilling victim of the chase, your poor heart couldn't fathom the thought of not excusing his actions as that of a child's. you tell yourself everyday, 'just ignore it, he was raised like as to be a menace after all' but you can't deny the bitterness and the clenching of your teeth whenever you stumble upon a room and see your father and your younger brother watching a movie together. the resentment eventually builds up until you blow up and just, give up. within your final moments in the manor, you figured to leave some belongings that you collected overtime that were supposedly memorabilias that you wish to show off to your family. like his pieces of art, you could only explain your life in the family as black and white and as bleak as the streaks of charcoal that rubs against the pages.
when dick was jogging through the desolate halls of the manor, he noticed the place seemed to be more... empty of some sort. and he knows pushing that feeling into the back of his head would only result in more questions than answers. so he decides to enter the spare rooms one by one until he comes across your room (he doesn't know it was yours, though), turning the knob without knocking.
that was when his eyes seem to dilate. his nose catched a faint whiff of bleach (was the room deep-cleaned?), vision seemingly closing in on the few furniture left alongside a diary and other boxes left neatly on your bed, with other smaller trinkets left untouched on your bedside table. he didn't remember you mentioning anything about leaving, hell, he doesn't want to admit his lack of memories about you butâ
wait...
didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago...?
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
a/n: this is one of my favorite pieces of writing i have ever done and i like it a lot so i hope whoever reads this likes it too. if you all want to read more of this, then please leave a comment or reblog because i heavily appreciate it and it motivates me further to write this type of content! the reason i have come to a long hiatus is because, as stated, the lack of interaction with content. like i said, i will still write for genshin but i am open to expanding my fandom list. (p.s. i hope you like the way i had to connect their interests or a part of their past to the reader.)
heavily inspired by @klemen-tine's work: Glass Bones and Paper Skin, @gotham-daydreams' work: Not [], and @onmyyan's work: Ain't No Sunshine.
#đ·... yael's works#đ§... yael's misc.#series: again & again#yandere dc#yandere batfam#yandere batman#yandere batboys#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere damian wayne#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x gn reader#yandere x male reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#platonic yandere#omg pls let this blow up#<- i say as i pray and beg on my knees#guess who's my favorite robin (trick question)#i hope i am feeding dc fans well with this (i am eating this up myself)
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Reader: How do you know how to kiss? Like who teaches you?
Jason: Well itâs actually a class, but unfortunately itâs full right now.
Jason: Would you like me to tutor you?
Dick: That was smooth.
â
Tim: How did none of you hear what I just said?!
Steph: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.
Reader: I got distracted halfway through.
Damian: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.
â
Jason: BE A BETTER PERSON!
Reader: WHY?!
Jason: BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME, SWEETHEART!
â
Dick: I feel like the world would be better if I'd never been born.
Jason: Aw... that's not true.
Jason: It'd be exactly the same.
Jason: You're not important.
â
Reader: Youâre drunk.
Tim: Correction: drinking. Present tense. Grammar, Reader.
#batfamily#dc comics#batfam#batman#damian wayne#jason todd#robin#red hood#dc#dick grayson#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd x male reader#Tim drake#batfam x reader#batfam x you#steph brown#stephanie brown#tim drake x batsis#batfam x batsis!reader#batfam x batsis#incorrect quotes generator#dc incorrect quotes#batfamily incorrect quotes#batfam incorrect quotes#incorrect quotes#inccorect quotes#im back
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
dark chocolate cherry
i want to bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. i want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
or; your boyfriend shows up when you just want some alone time [3.2k]
jason todd x fem!reader; reader gets her period and describes painful symptoms; just fluff; jason "words don't come easy so here's acts of service" todd this is supposed to be earlier in the relationship which is why he's still a little shy but i think she knows he's red hood? idk man. i was just going with it; can you guess what inspired this? (everything is awful) and this is likeâŠnot that good
The day started at 2 AM when you woke to shooting pains in your abdomen and blood everywhere. It continued until 2:45 while you cleaned yourself, changed clothes, put on a fresh pad, took some painkillers, and changed the sheets. It paused for about an hour until you woke up again at 4:00, courtesy of Gothamâs patented night-life that had taught you to completely tune out the sound of police sirens. Tonight, however, they werenât tuning out.
The sirens quieted at 4:10, by which angry tears collected in the corners of your eyes as you flopped around in bed in an attempt to get comfortable. No matter what you did, there was always something wrong; the pillow was too hard, the blanket was too scratchy, the position hurt your arm.
From 4:11 to 4:12, you screamed into your pillow.
By 4:15 you had settled in front of the TV with a bowl of dry cereal (it took everything in you not to cry over the lack of milk in your fridge), a heating pad, and your favorite comfort show queued up.
At 8 AM you managed to drag yourself to work, where you half-assed the dayâs tasks, took a 15-minute break to cry in your car, then dipped out a half-hour early.
Now, at 5 PM on a Friday evening, youâre curled into the fetal position in front of your TV with your comfort show resumed and your trusty heating pad cranked to the highest setting. Prepared to spend the entire night here, you already changed into pajamas and kept a couple blankets within reach. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, and you stretch to reach it, careful not to lose your comfortable position or roll off the couch.
Jason About to leave Be there in 20
You groan out loud. You want to throw your phone across the room, but decide against it because no amount of hormones from hell are worth six hundred dollars. Youâre still angry, though, for being so stupid as to forget about the date you had planned for tonight. Scrolling up to earlier messages, you see another text from today wishing you a good morning and telling you he was excited to see you tonight. But, too down to bother checking any messages today, you had missed it.
You I canât tonight anymore Iâm sorry I donât feel great
After hitting send, you place your phone on the ground, not even having the energy to reach for the coffee table again. Or the energy to lift your arm back up, apparently, given how it hangs limply over the edge of the couch. You feel guilty about cancelling, but you are in no state to go out tonight. Youâre used to the symptoms of your period hitting so hard. As much as you and Jason care about each other, youâre not sure youâre ready for him to see you like this. Youâve managed to plan your relationship around your hormone cycle so far, but today it came early.
Your phoneâs buzzing is muffled by the rug, and you almost donât hear it. Jasonâs photo is displayed on the screen.
Your hanging hand clicks âanswerâ and puts it on speaker so you can take the call without moving from how you're curled up.
âIs everything okay? Whatâs wrong?â
âNothing, Iâm fine, I just donât feel up for going out tonight. Iâd rather stay home.â
âDid something happen?â
âNo, I just got my period so Iâm not really in the mood.â
âOkay, we can stay in tonight. What do you feel like eating? I can pick something up.â
âNo, JasonâŠI want to stay home alone tonight.â
Thereâs a beat of silence on the other end of the line.
âOkayâŠdid I do something?â His voice comes out a little smaller.
âNo, youâre fine, I promise. I just donât feel like seeing anyone right now.â
ââŠNot even me?â
Your hand presses against your temples to soothe the building tension headache. The self-doubt in his tone brings the anguish of the entire day bubbling up your throat. You feel like the worst person in the world. Exactly how you donât want him to see you.
âJasonâŠitâs not you. I justâŠI feel like shit right now, honestly. Everything hurts, Iâm miserable and sad and angry at everything, Iâm breaking out all over.â You feel yourself welling up at all these little stresses coming out. âIâm craving everything but feel too sick to eat anythingâŠI feel pretty disgusting right now, and frankly, I donât want you to see me like this.â You finish your rant with a sniffle. You wipe your nose, trying to hold back the sob thatâs threatening to break through. But at his silence, your worst, most improbable fears claw their way to the surface: he hates you now. You scared him away. You exhale heavily into your sleeve as more tears spill.
The phone is quiet for a long moment. Then; âI could never find you disgusting,â he says, gently. âBut if thatâs what you want, then weâll reschedule.â
âThank you. And sorry.â
He speaks with a tone you canât quite parse. âDonât apologize. Just feel better.â
-
-
-
Itâs one hour after your phone call, and at the first knock, you know who it is. Who else could it be? With that soft, somewhat hesitant, one-knuckle rap on the door. Only one person knocks on your door like that.
âJason, I told you not to come here,â you say a little more cutting than you intend to, but your back and shoulders feel like theyâre about to snap under a phantom pressure and the frustration of your request being outright ignored leaves a burning bitterness that channels itself into a violent wrenching open of the door.
He jumps a little at the abruptness of your greeting. One look at your face and he visibly deflates.
âIâm sorryâŠI know you said not to come, butâŠâ his gaze casts downward to his hands. You follow; heâs clutching a reusable grocery bag. Peeking out of the top is a gallon of Neapolitan ice cream. The ice cream cartonâs condensation seeped through a small patch of the cloth bag and dripped onto the other items; a bushel of greens, among some other fruits and vegetables, as well as a parcel of brown paper that was fastened closed with a twine string. You return your gaze to his face.
âI thinkââ he cuts himself off, free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Then he drops his hand and sighs. âIâm sorry. This was a bad idea. You told me not to come here and I ignored you, but I thoughtâŠâ he trails off, probably hoping youâll say something so he can gauge your reaction.
You just stare at him.
He shifts his weight back and forth. His hand twitches.
âOkay, yeah, Iâllââ
Then, you burst into tears.
Jasonâs eyes widen. He reaches out to touch you, then stops himself. âOh, fuck, Iâm sorry! Iâm sorry, this was stupid. Please stop crying, Iâm so sorryââ Heâs panicked, trying to calm you down with apologies and soothing assurances that he will leave immediately and never go against your wishes again. All the while you stand in the doorway, blubbering like a toddler with a skinned knee, new tears forming faster than you can wipe the old ones away.
He once again raises a hand towards you, before it stutters, then clenches into a fist as if it takes all his strength to fight against the instinct to be close to you, fighting against the string that tethers him to you. He drags his hand down his face, then it falls back to his side.
âOkay, IâIâm leaving now. Iâm leaving. Do youâŠwant this?â He holds the bag out to you.
With it now in front of you, its further contents are visible. You manage to tamp down your tears enough to get a few words out.
âDid youâhicâbuy me groceries?â
âYeahâŠâ Thereâs a wince in his tone, as if heâs only now realizing that his gesture is not translating as he intended.
You look back up at him with pursed lips and knitted brows, sniffling. Sure, the ice cream you can understand, butâŠyou have no idea what to make of the rest.
The bag drops back to his side. âI figuredâŠitâs justâ itâs the stuff that youâre supposed toââ He strokes his palm over his mouth, eyes screwing shut for a moment. He huffs at himself, then continues. âI mean Iâm sure you already know all of this, so maybe you already have all these things, and now Iâm realizing how unnecessary all this was, and I shouldnât have assumedââ
âJason,â you say. Your upset has since been overshadowed by something else, though you canât tell what it is. And your crying has stopped, but its lingering effects have you feeling congested and a little foggy. Youâre half expecting this to be a fever dream that youâre moments away from waking up from in a cold sweat.
ââbecause obviously you know what helps you feel better much more than I doââ
âJason.â
âAnd youâ yeah?â His eyes are a little harried when they find yours again. But off your tired and still-confused look, he gets the message and collects himself.
âRight, yeah, I just thought thatâŠmaybe I could bring you some of the stuff with all those minerals that are supposed to help women when theyâreâŠmenstruating.â He briefly breaks eye contact at the end of his sentence, red rouge creeping up his neck.
You canât help it; you start to giggle. You canât remember the last time you heard a man use the term âmenstruatingâ in a non-medical context. And the fact that heâs so shy about itâ upset as you may be (though not at him), thereâs no denying how adorable your boyfriend is. His head shoots back to you as your laughter intensifies. He blushes harder.
âItâs not that funny,â he mutters.
You step away from the door, finally closing the space between you, and wrap your arms around his torso. Your head nestles into his chest. He gently drops the grocery bag on the ground and reciprocates your hug. He rests his chin on your head, which fits perfectly under his. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. You breathe him in.
âSorry Iâm such a mess,â you murmur into his shirt.
He breathes into your hair. âYou have nothing to apologize for. And youâre not a mess.â
You look up, chin resting in the space between his collarbones. He looks down at you with a small smile, but some wariness is still etched into his features. Fear of unwittingly upsetting you again. He brings up a hand to push some hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. His hand remains there, toying with the hair that falls below your shoulder.
"Thank you for the food,â you whisper. The moment feels too intimate to speak any other way.
âIâm sorry for not listening to you. I justâŠâ He imitates your quietness, like his admission is also too vulnerable to say loudly. âI really wanted to see you. And I hated the idea of you feeling bad about yourself, or being in pain. I didnât mean to upset you.â
Your eyes feel wet again. The first instinct is to hide your face, maybe press it to his chest once more. But, for some reason, you donât. You want him to see you like this, messy and emotional and upset. You want him to see every part of you, and you want to see every part of him, the good and the bad.
âYou didnât.â A tear slips past the effort to keep it at bay. He shows no reaction to it, eyes never leaving yours, other than a quick swiping away with his thumb. âNo oneâs ever done anything like this for me before. Thatâs why I was crying. Not because you showed up.â
âThat doesnât seem right. This is nothing. You deserve even more.â
With no words to fully, adequately communicate the blooming in your chest, you stand on your toes, reaching up to him for a kiss. But given his stature, your lips only reach his chin and brush over its underside.
At your quiet whine, he chuckles and leans down to meet you in the middle. The kiss is soft; filled with the innocence of fresh blossoms in the spring, and the sweetness of its borne fruit.
You pull away when a vicious cramp roots you back to the present. Your limps tighten around Jason with a groan.
âI need to go back inside. Iâve been away from my heating pad for too long.â
His shoulders sag when you step away from him. âOh, umâŠdo you stillâŠwant me to leave?â
With a simple exhale of humorous disbelief, you grasp his hand in yours and tug him to your front door. Heâs like an excited puppy, eyes brightened and perking up as he grabs the grocery bag and happily trails after you.
He goes straight to the kitchen, pulling out a chair at the counter for you to settle into, then sets the bag on the counter. The ice cream carton has dampened most of the cloth by now, and likely the rest of its contents, but rather than attending to the groceries, his first action is retrieving your heating pad from where it rests on the couch. He unplugs it from the wall outlet and brings it to you. You curl up on the chair with it pressed flat against your lower stomach. It only takes a minute for the pressure in your hips to abate.
Then he moves to the groceries. The ice cream immediately goes in the freezer, and he unloads whatâs remaining onto the counter, one by one, and you take note of each item. Thereâs spinach, carrots, apples, oranges, dark chocolate, some kind of meat wrapped in brown paper, and, strangely enough, an entire block of cheese.
You give him a quizzical look, picking it up to read the label. âYou got meâŠcheddar cheese?â
He retrieves a cutting board and knife from its spot next to the sink, then takes the cheese from you. âGood for certain symptoms.â He slices open the plastic wrapping and cuts out some cubes with skilled efficiency. He does the same with an apple. âThey all are,â he says, referring to his entire haul. He completes the makeshift charcuterie board with a couple squares of dark chocolate and slides it across the counter.
You look down at the cutting board, thinking about everything heâs done for you; everything you never even had to ask for. The words sit on your tongue, encaged by your clenched teeth; an admission that coils itself around your spine and squeezes tight, restricts your breathing and pumps your heart at thrice its speed. But you feel yourself welling up again, and the first bout of tears already exhausted you so much that all you can manage is, âI donât know what to do with all this. I donât have the energy to make anything good.â
But he just smiles and says, âThatâs what Iâm here for, honey. Can I make you something?â
You nod. He gets to work. The immediacy of his actions, how he takes no time to decide on a dish or find a recipe, makes you think his previously stated intentions of âjust dropping this offâ were less genuine than he lead you to believe. Nevertheless, you munch on the snacks he laid out for you and watch him work. The cheese and apples are a surprisingly cohesive combination, the meshing of sweet crispiness and savory creaminess eliciting a contented sigh from you. You try to ignore the way Jason smirks in the corner of your periphery. The chocolate is incredible, yet unfamiliar. You read the label on the packaging: 80% Dark Chocolate with Cherry and Almond Filling. Even if you hadnât tasted it yet, the quality of the packaging itself would have been enough to let you know that this chocolate is extremely high-quality. Like, special-order-from-Europe quality. Not stop-at-the-grocery-store-on-the-way-home quality.
âWhere is this from? Did you buy this today?â You ask him through a mouthful of the rich, melting chocolate.
He doesnât look up from the carrots heâs dicing. âUhâŠno.â
Anyone else would attribute his avoidance of eye-contact to standard kitchen-knife caution. You are not anyone else. You could blindfold him, spin him around ten times, put a sharp knife in his hand, and he could still pull off a perfect julienne. You look closer. His cheeks are dusted with pink.
You let out a laugh. âJason, youâre not embarrassed about liking fancy chocolate, are you?â
âNo! Not at all,â he says, ceasing his chopping. He looks up, but not quite at you.
âThen?â
ââThenâ what?â He asks.
âThen why are you being so shifty right now?â You try to catch his gaze.
âIâm not!â He defends. âItâs just chocolate! Do you like it? Iâll bring you more.â Heâs stealthy with the way he avoids your eyes; you almost canât notice how hard heâs trying not to make eye contact.
âJason!â You reach across the counter, having to rise off the chair slightly, and take his face in your hands, making him look at you. When he does, he wears a sheepish smile.
âItâsâŠâ His removes your hands from his face, holding them in his. He mumbles something, turning his head to the side. But you catch the tail end of it, a goading grin already creeping up your face.
âWhat was that?â You tilt your ear towards him, exaggerating the action.
âItâs Bruceâs.â He, in turn, exaggerates the enunciation, rolling his eyes at your simpering. âIâŠfound it. In his pantry one day. And I liked it, so I took it. And then IâŠkept taking it. Every time I visited.â
You pout teasingly. âAnd youâre ashamed to admit that you think he has good taste in something?â
He doesnât say anything, only hiding his face in his shoulder. You pull on your intertwined hands and he gets the message, skirting around the kitchen counter to come closer.
âYou are so adorable, you know that?â You say. You reach up and pinch his cheeks. He swats your hands away, but thereâs no mistaking his broad, childish grin for anything but affection.
He breaks off another square from the chocolate bar and holds it to your lips. You bite off a small portion, then push it back to him. He takes the remaining piece in his mouth and his eyes close for a brief moment as he savors the sweet, tart, and nutty flavors. You simply watch, entranced by him. Then, he kisses you. You lean into it, hands sliding up his shirt to grip the fabric and bring him even closer. His hold finds your waist.
He tastes like cherries and dark chocolate.
He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead on yours, and you want to tell him that. That, and so much more. But from the look on his face, the way his eyes find yours and the tips of his ears have a similar heat to the one in your chest, you can tell he already knows.
when it comes to jason's post-pit-repressed-teenager characterization (aka despite being older he's still as inexperienced and confused and insecure about the world outside of vigilantism and w/ women as a 15 y/o would be) (aka my favorite characterization tee hee), i think that he's mature about periods, knows they're normal and not gross or shameful etc, but still gets shy about saying the actual word, for no other reason than the 'shy around women' part always makes me giggle
also bruce is keeping the chocolate stocked specifically because he knows jason likes it and will keep taking it because he loves his son even if his son doesn't love him (he does he's just in his angsty teen 'i hate this family you don't understand me' phase rn)
divider is from here
quote at the beginning is pablo neruda <3
#more of my jason todd domesticity agenda#batman#red hood#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#batfamily#dc universe#dc comics#dcu#dc robin#robin#dick grayson#bruce wayne#damian wayne#tim drake#nightwing#red robin#red hood x reader#batfam#robin jason todd
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
# âWHY ARE YOU CRYING LAIN.â ââ .⊠( what it takes for batboys to cry about their s/o btw I donât see this as angst!reader but Iâm 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 â ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )
DICK GRAYSON ââ .âŠ
Losing You, Even Momentarily: Dick is the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the idea of losing you whether youâre hurt, missing, or even distant emotionally breaks him in ways he doesnât know how to hide. If you were ever critically injured during a mission or got caught in the crossfire or a health scare, heâd hold you in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he begs, âDonât you dare leave me. I canât lose you. Youâre everything to me.â
When Youâre Hurt Emotionally: Dick is empathetic to his core. If he ever caught you crying, struggling silently, or feeling like you couldnât talk to him, heâd break down too. âWhy didnât you come to me? Youâre not aloneâyouâre never alone.â His voice would crack as he hugs you, feeling helpless because he wants to fix it but doesnât know how.
A Fight That Goes Too Far: Dick hates arguing, but sometimes even he loses control. If words were exchanged that hurt you, heâd cry after you left, clutching his face in his hands because he knows he messed up. Heâd 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 đ)
JASON TODD ââ .âŠ
Thinking He Doesnât Deserve You: Jason has deep-seated feelings of unworthiness, and if he ever felt like you deserved better or like you might leave because heâs âtoo broken,â heâd quietly lose it. Youâd find him sitting on the edge of the bed, tears in his eyes as he mutters, âWhy are you even with me? I donât want to ruin you too.â
You in Danger: Jason prides himself on protecting the people he loves, but if there were ever a moment where he couldnât save you where you were hurt or out of his reach heâd shatter. Holding your unconscious body, heâd whisper through gritted teeth and tears, âThis wasnât supposed to happen. Iâm sorryâI shouldâve been faster. Stronger.â
Fighting and Losing Control: Jason fears becoming the worst version of himself. If you ever fought and he lost his temper, saying something he didnât mean, heâd be crushed afterward. Heâd cry silently in his room, replaying the fight over and over in his head, scared you wouldnât forgive him.
TIM DRAKE ââ .âŠ
You Pulling Away: Tim doesnât 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, heâd hit a breaking point. One night, heâd find himself sitting alone, staring at his phone, tears silently falling as he whispers, âI donât want to lose you. Iâll do betterâI promise.â
When Youâre in Pain: Timâs logical brain often protects him from his emotions, but seeing you in painâphysically or emotionally would be his undoing. Heâd try to keep it together for you, but once heâs alone, heâd sit at his desk, head in his hands as sobs wrack his body because he hates seeing the person he loves suffer.
If Youâre Gone (Even Temporarily): If you ever went missing or were presumed dead, Tim would break in ways no one else would see. Heâd bury himself in work, desperately trying to find you, but in the quiet hours, heâd collapse on the floor surrounded by papers and maps, tears streaming down his face as he murmurs, âPlease come back to me. Please.â
DAMIAN WAYNE ââ .âŠ
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. Heâd stay at your bedside, barely speaking, but his tears would fall silently as he holds your hand and says, âYou are strong so much stronger than me. I am sorry I let this happen.â
Realizing Youâre Hurt by Him: Damian doesnât always know how to express himself, and if he ever unintentionally hurt youâthrough sharp words or coldnessâheâd crumble. Heâd isolate himself, his back to the door as he mutters to himself, âI am unworthy of their love. I am no better than the monsters I fight.â
If You Were Gone: Damian doesnât cry easily, but if he lost you, heâd lock himself away for days. No one would hear his sobs as he grips something of yoursâa sweater, a necklace and whispers, âI failed you. I should have been stronger. I would trade anything to bring you back.â
GENERAL ( WITHOUT LOSING YOU OR GETTING HURT YK? ) ââ .âŠ
Dick: Heâd cry watching you do something incredibly mundaneâlike 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: Heâd cry when he thinks about how youâve accepted him so completely. âYou donât look at me like Iâm broken,â heâd say through tears, pulling you into a hug. âYou love me. No oneâs ever loved me like this before.â
Tim: Heâd cry in relief after a near-missâmaybe you were almost hurt on patrol, but youâre okay. Heâd break down in your arms, holding you tightly. âI canât lose you. Youâre everything I didnât know I needed.â
Damian: Heâd cry quietly while watching you sleep, overwhelmed by how much he loves you. Heâd brush your hair from your face and murmur, âYou are my heart, beloved. Without you, I would have none.â
BRUCE WAYNE ââ .âŠ
The Fear of Losing You: Bruce has already lost so much his parents, allies, and people he couldnât save. If you were ever gravely injured or put in harmâs way, heâd be stoic at first, tending to your wounds or making sure youâre stable. But when the danger is over and heâs alone, the walls would finally break. Heâd sit in the Batcave, hands trembling, staring at the blood on his gloves and whispering, âI canât lose you too. I couldnât survive that.â 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. Heâd pull you into his arms, his voice shaky as he mutters, âI didnât mean to hurt you. I swear on everything, I will never let this happen again.â When youâve fallen asleep, heâd sit beside you, quietly crying to himself because the person he loves more than anything is in pain.
During a Rare, Heated Argument: Bruce doesnât 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. Heâd find himself sitting alone in the dark manor, hands in his hair as he whispers, âI canât believe I let that happen. I promised Iâd be better.â He wouldnât hesitate to apologize immediately, but heâd cry later when he realized how close he came to pushing you away.
Realizing Youâre 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 youâlaughing, smiling, or simply existingâhe realizes you are the brightest thing in his world. He wouldnât cry in front of you, but in a rare, quiet moment alone, heâd sit in his study with tears in his eyes, overwhelmed. âI donât deserve them. But I wonât let anything happen to them. Ever.â
If You Were Gone: Bruce would completely unravel. Heâs already built his life around loss, but you? You were his hope, his reason to believe in something beyond the cowl. Without you, heâd 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, heâd finally let himself grieveâhands gripping the edges of a desk, shoulders shaking as he whispers your name like a prayer. (Madonna ref?)
MOMENTS WHERE BRUCE GETS EMOTIONAL ââ .âŠ
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, âYouâre home. Youâre okay. Thatâs all that matters.â His voice would crack slightly, betraying the emotion he tries to hide.
When You Remind Him of His Humanity: Bruce isnât always good with words, but when youâre thereâkissing him goodnight, teasing him about his brooding, or cooking something terribly but with love he remembers what happiness feels like. Heâd quietly brush a tear away as he watches you, thinking, âThey make this life worth living.â
If You Call Him Out on His Guilt: If Bruce ever tried pushing you away because he thought youâd be safer without him, and you confronted him with a heartfelt speech about loving him no matter what, heâd break. Heâd pull you into his arms, tears falling as he whispers, âYou donât know how much you mean to me. I canât lose you. I need you.â
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#dc#batboys#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson headcanon#jason todd imagine#jason todd headcanon#nightwing#nightwing x reader#nightwing imagine#red hood x reader#red hood#red hood imagine#damian al ghul x reader#damian wayne x reader#damian al ghul#bruce wayne x reader#tim drake x reader#tim drake#tim drake imagine#tim drake headcanon#bruce wayne#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne headcanon#red robin headcanon#red robin x reader#red robin
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE OELASE PELzerPLEADR PLEWSE PLAS PLEASR MORE P LINKS WITH BATFAMđđđđđ I ENERRIY YINFN$.,,, I MEED IT I NEED IT
Batfamily | p links part three
(Gotta be logged into Twitter for links to work)
Nsfw 18+, had lots of requests for various members of the batfamily so Iâm combining them all, part one and two
·:šàŒș â±âźâ± àŒ»Âš:·
Bruce Wayne:
Says he wants you to be loud when he fucks you in a hotel to keep up his playboy imageâŠbut really he just loves to hear you
In his fancy car
Heâs hugeâŠbut thatâs expected
One time when Alfred took a rare day off, you wanted to cook dinner for the both of youâŠand Bruce loved the image of you more than he should have
When he caught you sunbathing in the garden
Dick Grayson:
Yeah heâs defo the type to play chase atlantic on his speakers while youâre both at it
He offers you a massageâŠ
Blow him when heâs had a bad day
Youâre the one who kept making comments about how heâd be âsuch a great dadââŠare you surprised this is how you ended up?
When the tabloids took pictures of Bruce Wayneâs eldest buying this in a sex shop, he was trending on Twitter for days
Jason Todd:
Loves fingering you like this, so he has full access to watching your twitching hole
Loves an alt girl
Heâs got big hands, and he loves to just see the size difference
This is so him, he takes pleasure in your pleasure
Has you hold your cheeks open so he can see just how big he is compared to you
Tim Drake:
sub tim sub tim sub tim
He just thinks youâre soooo pretty in a skirt!! He canât help it!!!
Sometimes heâs in a rougher mood
This screams Tim vibes honestly
You film this, and send it to him when you want to tease him while heâs away
#dc#dc smut#p links#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne smut#bruce wayne#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson smut#dick grayson#jason todd x you#jason todd imagine#jason todd x reader#jason todd smut#jason todd#red hood x reader#red hood smut#red hood#nightwing x reader#nightwing smut#nightwing#tim drake x fem!reader#tim drake x you#tim drake x reader#tim drake smut#tim drake#red robin
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with having a s/o who doesnât 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 itâs windy and the windows open or paper weight for important paperwork so it doesnât go flying everywhere?
âŻSECRETS WE KEEP CLOSE TO OUR HEARTS
â gn!reader, kinda based it of the stuff i own !!
© ahqkas â 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 bruceâs 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. youâve 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 morningâs headlines of the gotham gazette when he heard your light footsteps approaching. a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. mornings like thisâquiet, unhurriedâwere rare but cherished.
âmorning,â you greeted, still groggy as you walked into the kitchen.
âmorning,â 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 immediatelyâheâd seen it on display in some tacky downtown gotham shop months ago. heâd 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. âwhat are you wearing?â ( 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. âoh, this? yeah, i love it. itâs super comfy. got it on sale a while back.â
âyouâre a fan of batman?â
you gave him a curious look. âwho isnât? heâs gothamâs hero. besides, the bat-symbol looks pretty cool.â you shrugged, heading to the coffee maker. âthough i guess itâs a little weird wearing merch of someone whoâs technically, like, a crime boss for good.â
bruce choked on his coffee, barely masking it with a cough. âcrime boss?â
âwell, think about it,â you teased, pouring yourself a mug of the dark liquid. âheâs got henchmenâlike robin and nightwingâand a lair filled with gadgets. heâs just . . . on the good side.â
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? âthatâs one way to look at it,â he replied smoothly, though he couldnât help but feel a small swell of pride.
you turned, leaning against the counter, and sipped your coffee. âwhy? you donât like him?â
his brows arched, genuinely curious. âwhat makes you say that?â
âyouâre awfully neutral about the guy for someone who lives in gotham. most people either think heâs amazing or a total menace. youâre, like, switzerland on batman,â you said, narrowing your eyes playfully.
âletâs just say . . . i have a unique perspective.â
. . . 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 normalâuntil 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 blĂŒdhavenâs vigilante? there were so many questions but so little answers.
ânice shirt,â 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. âoh, this?â you plucked at the hem and grinned. âyeah, i thought it was cool. i found it at this little street market the other day. plus, the guyâs kinda awesome, you know?â
he quirked a brow, trying not to look too amused. âkinda awesome?â
âokay, really awesome,â you gave in with a laugh. âi mean, heâs out there keeping blĂŒdhaven from going completely off the rails. and unlike some other heroes, he doesnât have a million-dollar budget or fancy gadgets. he just . . . handles it.â
your boyfriend leaned back in the plush chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. âsounds like youâre a pretty big fan.â talk about narcissism.
âwell, yeah, who wouldnât be? heâs smart, agile, and has a heart. plus, have you seen hisââ you caught yourself, suddenly looking flustered and with a good reason. you were caught ranting to your boyfriend about nightwing.
âseen his what?â 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. ânothing. forget i said anything.â
âuh-huh. sure. so, did you pick that shirt just because youâre a fan, or . . . ?â
you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at his suspiciously amused tone. âwhatâs with the third degree, grayson? are you jealous or something?â
âme? jealous of a guy in spandex? never,â he replied with mock indignation. but the way his lips twitched betrayed his amusementâand the fact that he was having way too much fun with this.
âgood,â you teased, leaning back into the pillows. âbecause if i ever run into him, iâll totally make sure to tell him my boyfriend is completely secure and not at all threatened by a superhero.â
dick laughed, shaking his head a little. âoh, iâm sure heâd be very flattered to hear that.â
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 youâd still think he was kind of awesomeâthough he wasnât sure youâd 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, youâd grabbed the closest thing you could findâan action figure.
( not just any action figure, though. )
sitting proudly on top a stack of papers was a small, highly detailed replica of gothamâs 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. âbabe, i gotââ 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.
âis that . . . ?â
you glanced up briefly, barely registering his confusion. âhuh?â
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.
âthis,â he said, gesturing to the action figure like it had personally offended him, âis red hood merch.â
âyeah, and?â you replied nonchalantly, not looking up from your stack of papers.
âand?â he repeated, incredulous. âwhy do you even have this? do you collect vigilante merch or something?â
âno, i just saw it at some random shop a while ago. i thought it looked cool, so i bought it. plus, heâs kind of a badass.â
jason blinked, caught between pride and disbelief. âyou think heâs a badass?â
âyeah, donât you?â you finally looked up at him. lips curving into a teasing smile. âwhat, are you jealous of a figurine now?â
his jaw ticked, his expression unreadable as he turned the figure over in his hands. âjealous? no,â he muttered, though the tightness in his voice suggested otherwise. âi just think itâs funny that youâre using this to keep your papers from flying out the window. kind of disrespectful to the guy, donât you think?â
you laughed. âoh, please. iâm sure gothamâs notorious anti-hero doesnât care if his likeness is helping me with my paperwork. honestly, he should feel honored.â
âhonored?â jason echoed, his lips twitching into a smirk despite himself. âyeah, iâm sure thatâs exactly what heâd feel.â
you leaned back in your chair, watching him with a curious glint in your eyes. âwhatâs with the attitude? are you secretly a red hood fanboy or something?â
he rolled his eyes, setting the figure back down on your deskâalbeit more carefully than heâd picked it up. âoh, yeah, totally. iâve got a whole shrine dedicated to him at home.â
âhm, i bet you do,â 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 didnât 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 couldnât resist throwing a final jab over his shoulder. âjust saying, if youâre such a big fan, you should probably treat him with more respect. maybe let him do something cooler than babysit your bills.â
âoh, relax,â you shot back, laughing. âif he has a problem, he can come tell me himself.â
jason snorted, shaking his head as he brought the plates over. âcareful what you wish for, babe.â
donât 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.
âfound them!â 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. âthatâs a lot of enthusiasm for finding keys.â
you walked over, jingling the keyring in the process. âitâs not about the keys, itâs about this little guy.â
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 âRâ emblazoned on the chestâa 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.
â . . . where did you get that?â
âoh, isnât it cute?â you beamed, completely unaware of his internal crisis. âi found it in one of those comic stores a while back. thought itâd make a perfect keychain. and it has! look at him, so heroic, guarding my keys.â
tim blinked, unsure whether to laugh or groan. heroic? lego him? guarding your keys?
âyouâre a fan of red robin?â he asked carefully, tilting his head.
you shrugged, plopping down onto the spot on the couch beside him, immediately leaning into his warmth. âi mean, yeah. who isnât? heâs kind of underrated, though, donât you think?â
âunderrated?â
âyeah!â you set the keys on the coffee table and turned to him. âi mean, everyone talks about batman and nightwingâand robin, obviouslyâbut red robin? heâs like . . . the smart one. the strategic one. he deserves more credit, you know?â
tim raised an eyebrow, trying not to look too smug. âso, heâs your favorite, then?â
âmmm,â you pretended to consider. âheâs up there. though nightwingâs a close second. sorry, but the guyâs got moves.â
he snorted, leaning back against the couch. âcanât argue with that.â
âbut red robinâs, like, the total package,â you continued, gesturing animatedly. âheâs clever, heâs got that whole detective thing going on, and he doesnât get as much attention, so heâs probably not as cocky as some of the others.â
your hero boyfriend choked on his laugh. ânot as cocky?â
âyeah, he strikes me as humble, you know?â you leaned forward, picking up the keychain again and holding it up like it was a sacred artifact. âplus, heâs got great taste in suits. red and black? iconic.â
tim bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep a straight face. âso you carry him around everywhere?â
âof course,â you said, grinning. âheâs like my little sidekick. protects my keys from danger. well, mostly from me losing them, but still.â
he shook his head, unable to hide his smile anymore. âyouâre something else, you know that?â
part of him wanted to tell you right then and there that the figure you adored so much was literally himâbut 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 didnât 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.
#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne fluff#bruce wayne fic#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson fluff#dick grayson fic#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd fluff#jason todd fic#tim drake x you#tim drake x reader#tim drake fluff#tim drake fic#batman x you#batman x reader#red hood x you#red hood x reader#nightwing x you#nightwing x reader#red robin x you#red robin x reader#dcu x reader#dc comics x reader#dc x reader#reader insert#dc comics#batboys x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
IMAGINE! Bad parenting!reader
Random idea for a yandere!batfam writing that i might do.
Imagine you, the reader take the place of Ron from bad parenting. People in the apartment you live in have reported domestic abuse in the places. You are dead, but can be seen in night. So imagine the batfamâs reaction to see a kid just smiling. Not knowing anything, just pure of light and curiosity. You call the big bat man âMr bat!â Running up to him holding a doll that looks like you. They notice the snapped neck, but with how you show no sign of abuse because of your father drinking himself sleep.
They search the place, they see you are unable to live here. Batman already has an adoption certificate ready under his suit as you grab Damianâs hand. Jumping excitedly as you show them around. You made new friends!
While the batfam, made their new obsession on how to take you out of this house. Not knowing you are dead.
#bad parenting#bad parenting game#dc fluff#dc x reader#dc x male reader#dc imagine#dc comics x reader#damian wayne#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x male reader#damian wayne x you#damian al ghul x male reader#yandere batfam#yandere batfamily#batfamily x neglected reader#batfamily x male reader#batfam x male reader#batfam x child reader#dick Grayson#yandere dick Grayson#yandere Jason Todd#yandere Tim drake#yandere damian wayne#yandere bruce wayne#bad parenting ron#yandere batfamily x reader#yandere batfam x reader#robin damian wayne#Batman#yandere dc
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Secretly Admiring You Artistically
Summary: How he's expressing that you're in his mind through art
a/n: based on scenes in the comics as civilians
Dick: Doodles
Heâs dying. Actively decaying in real-time. Why he brought back the notepad from his day job as an officer home or why Haley pulled it out from his bag and gave it to you, he has no idea. To make matters worse, heâs crouching on the ground with both hands covering his very-much burning face as you stand in front of him silently, flipping through each page thatâs filled with doodles of you rather than work notes he shouldâve been taking for the cases heâs working on.
 It isnât an exaggeration to say his world revolves around you. Heâs not ashamed or has any problem expressing how much of a simp he is for you whether itâs to you or everyone both verbally and physically, 24/7. Seriously, he canât go a day without getting a kiss from you or telling you how much he loves you, no matter the situation. Heâs constantly stuck to your side, always smiling from how you showered him with affection back, spoiling him silly to the point heâs thinking heâs the luckiest man in the world. But artistically? He drew a stick figure once during a game of Scribble. Tim was for sure that it was a basketball hanging on a fishing pole. Bruce had told him he can help him get enrolled for art classes.Â
âSo, did the sarge or corporal see any of this yet?â
âNoâŠ,â He manages to wheeze out. He needs the ground to swallow him up right now. He still canât believe this is how his (poorly and very much terribly drawn) doodles of you are discovered and exposed to you of all people. When he hears the notepad being closed shut, he musters all the strength in his mind and body. â...Can I please have my notepad back now?â He knows the answer. And he knows whatâs about to happen next. But maybe today heâll be lucky heâll get it back-Â
âNope.â The way you pop the âpâ at the end of the word - of course you wouldnât. He doesnât even need to look at you to know the type of grin you have on your face.
With that, he gets up and yells your name as he gets up to chase after your running form. Sure, heâs dreading what exactly you might do with the doodles but his heart is filled with adoration from how he still managed to give you happiness from them. You are the most lovable person in the world to him - he canât wait to kiss the ever living lights out of you when he gets you.
Jason: Poetry
Oh. Well. This is embarrassing. He rubs the back of his neck, face completely dyed red. You snuggling your face into the crook of his neck while embracing his biceps is fine. In fact, he loves waking up to see you sleeping peacefully next to him. His heart always swells with affection from how you feel so warm and right in his arms while being reminded how you genuinely enjoyed and appreciate him and his presence. The problem was the book lying open on the coffee table next to him. The book filled with romantic poems that he placed on his face after deciding to take a power nap which ended up as a snooze session.
He had been reading each poem, using a sticky note and red pen (because heâs not a heathen to ruin such beautiful and sacred text) to mark which parts or lines reminded him of you the most. Each sticky note had arrows drawn with whatever note heâd make about you, placed on the long-edge of the pages. It was obvious you had found out the contents of the book before joining him on the sofa as you had done the same, only your sticky notes were sticking out from the shorter-edge.Â
âJason⊠Whatâs wrong?â He quickly turns his head away, covering the lower half of his face. The fact you arenât even letting go when you usually would makes things worse, your grip tightening instead of getting loose. He doesnât turn around to know the expression youâre making, feeling you nuzzle into his side.
â...Are you telling Roy or the others about this?âÂ
âWhat? Hell no. This is only for you and me- why would I want to share it?â
With that, he topples over you and wraps himself around you like a giant, warm teddy bear. On top of relief, heâs filled with childish glee from getting to share something thatâll only be meant between you and him. It gets a chuckle from him when you laugh at how ticklish he makes you as he snuggles into you, eventually making you two fall asleep in each otherâs embrace with smiles on your faces.
Tim: Photography
Heâs pacing in circles in his room. Then heâs flopping onto his bed and screaming into his pillow. Pacing in the room. And again, screaming into his pillow. Heâs been repeating this exact pattern for ten minutes straight now after finding the photo album on his desk. How Stephanie found out about them or why she showed them to you when you stopped by while he was out, he doesnât know nor want to know. But heâs pretty sure that he's doomed. Best case scenario is break up. Worst case scenario is you choosing to never see him again because you found him creepy.Â
But, itâs not his fault, okay? Heâs really down bad for you. Even when heâs dating you, he keeps finding himself falling for you deeper and deeper to the point he doesn't want to miss a single moment whenever heâs with you. So, every time the two of you went on dates or plainly hung out, heâd take pictures of you. You standing on a hill during a sunset, looking outside with the window down in his car, laughing in front of a bonfire with a marshmallow on a stick in your hands. He canât imagine life without you. He needs to be with you even if itâs in a photo.Â
Finally, he gets back up and dejectedly drags his feet to the desk. Might as well put the album away before more people find out about it. Or so he thought when he suddenly freezes at the sight of a note sitting on top of it. Thereâs only a single sentence in your hand writing, making him do what it says. Having memorized the order of the photos in each album, he immediately finds a photo of him laughing while sitting on top of the hood of his car. It sits adjacent to a photo of you doing the same, making it look like the two of you were laughing while looking at each other. Heart skipping a beat with tears threatening to spill, he doesnât look away when he grabs his phone and dials your number.Â
âSo? Are we hanging out tonight?âÂ
âNo, weâre doing more than that. Weâre going to go all out, my treat.âÂ
The way you chuckle does so many wonders to him. With that, he rushes to get ready. Even if he canât give you the whole world now, he plans on making tonight the best night of your life since thereâs no other way for him to express how much he loves you when words canât cover half of them.
Duke: Notes
Heâs an idiot. Thatâs what he mentally screams to himself when he drops the pile of handwritten notes right in front of you. Not once had he ever mentioned that he had collected all the notes you wrote to him including the ones back before the two of you even got together. All of them were written as your way to cheer him on, secretly giving them to him in every way you possibly can. Itâs as if nothing could stop you from passing him a note, whether itâs during class, passing in the hallways, eating lunch, or slipping them in his school bag. There were even times you managed to place them in his textbooks, right where the assigned reading starts.
All those notes you passed to him, he found solace. He feels that heâs being mentally and emotionally supported unconditionally, no matter the circumstances . You donât know how he cherishes the smiley faces you draw on them or the words you write. Each and every note he treats like they are a piece of you. It led him to keep a few in his pocket, pulling one and reading it to get the extra boost he needs to get through whatever heâs doing even if itâs homework or patrolling the city.Â
Now here he was, caught red handed. Heâs so nervous and on the verge of a mental breakdown, fearing that you might think heâs strange. Immediately he starts to ramble, spewing every excuse in the book while watching you pick the notes that dropped from his pocket off the ground.Â
âThey were growing into a pile inside my bag, so I was kind of in the middle of-â
âDo they work?â
He stops and blinks at you. What do you mean they work? Thereâs a light blush coloring your cheeks, your hands gently straightening each note to stop them from wrinkling and getting damaged further.Â
âAre they making you happy?â Oh. Oh. He pulls you into a strong hug, hoping his actions convey how he feels about you. Itâs not the notes thatâs making him happy- itâs you and your efforts to make sure he is that makes him the happiest man in the world.
Damian: Sketching
No. Just no. Heâs so embarrassed that he canât muster a single word right now. You were teasing him a minute ago about how he must have sketches of you when he refused to show you his notepad he carries around. Little did you know and much to his horror, you were completely right and that exactly was the reason why he didnât want to show it to you. In fact, he had been finishing another sketch of you before your so-called attempt to sneak up on him. You being you, you kept probing him into showing his sketches and with him being so flustered, he ended up getting the notepad snatched out of his hand leading to the current situation where both of you are standing with the biggest blush to be seen from mankind.Â
Itâs not two sketches heâs drawn too. Thereâs a whole comic strip he drew in there featuring one of his favorite moments he had with you on top of all the other sketches, some being portraits, some being a compilation of various expressions you make on a daily basis. The way heâs constantly stuck about you has gotten to where Jon had gotten smug at guessing what he was thinking of when Jon found him suddenly grinning to himself. That day, the two of them got grounded by their parents once Damian started to threaten Superboy by getting kryptonite out and the other shot lasers out of his eyes as self defense.Â
âTheyâre so beautiful.â Your muttering snaps him back to reality.
Not wasting a second, he grabs his notepad back. Pride damaged and completely panicked by showing a pathetic side to himself to you, he tries to go somewhere, anywhere, away from you. Only to stop when you grab his wrist.Â
âDamian, you're absolutely talented.âÂ
He mentally groans. He hates how youâre sincere and genuine in these moments. You donât know how much he treasures you because of this - being open, honest, and accepting of his every being. Worse is you not being aware or truly choosing your battles - itâs how you are; itâs part of your nature. Accepting his loss, he sits back down. He refuses to admit how affected he is by the way you smile with excitement when you pick up his sign. Letting his shoulder brush against yours, the two of you go through his drawings with you commenting on each one while he snarks back though itâs softer and filled with fondness.
#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#nightwing#damian wayne#damian wayne x reader#duke thomas#duke thomas x reader#jason todd#jason todd x reader#red hood#tim drake x reader#tim drake#dc signal#red robin dc#red robin
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Batboys finding you sleeping in wierd places headcanon:
Damian Wayne
"Bro, you can't keep doing this." Damian finds you sleeping in the weirdest spots, and he's lowkey over it. One time, you're passed out in the Batmobile, snacks everywhere, legs hanging out the door. He just stands there, staring at you like you're the most chaotic thing he's ever seen. âHow do you even fall asleep like this?â But of course, heâs not gonna leave you there. He rolls his eyes, adjusts the seat, and tucks you in (very dramatically) like, âDonât make this a habit.â Heâs not mad. Heâs just... concerned? But mostly shook by your ability to sleep anywhere.
Tim Drake
âI literally told you to stop drinking so much coffee.â Tim finds you asleep everywhereâface down on a stack of papers, in the middle of the Batcave, on top of the Batcomputer. He doesnât even act surprised anymore. Heâs just like, âWell, I warned you.â One time, youâre passed out on the couch, snacks everywhere, and Tim picks up the coffee cup you definitely spilled while napping. âI love you, but this is chaos,â he says, brushing some crumbs off your face. "Next time, please at least use the chair." He leaves a note with your next coffee: âYouâre welcome.â
Dick Grayson
âYouâre so cute, but like, also... why???â Dick finds you asleep in the kitchen, spread out on the counter like youâve been hit by a truck. He can't help but laugh, but also he's lowkey impressed that you managed to fall asleep there. He pulls out his phone and takes a pic (because of course he does). âIâm definitely showing this to everyone,â he says, not even hiding his grin. You wake up mid-photo, trying to act like you werenât drooling, but Dick just chuckles. "Gonna frame this one." Youâre like, âPlease, no,â and heâs already texting it to the group chat.
Jason Todd
âYouâre literally doing this to mess with me, arenât you?â Jason finds you sleeping everywhereâon the floor, under the Batmobile, sprawled out on the roof. Heâs got that annoyed big brother vibe, like, âYouâre going to get a crick in your neck,â but the second he sees you all cute and dead to the world, he canât help but sigh. One time, he even gently picks you up to move you. You wake up in a daze, and heâs like, âI didnât sign up for this. But you look adorable when you're asleep, so whatever.â âNo need to carry me, Iâm fine,â you mumble. âIâm doing it because I have no choice,â he responds.
Duke Thomas
âHow do you even sleep like this?â Duke is actually concerned when he finds you sleeping in random spots, but at the same time, itâs kinda funny. One time, he finds you passed out on the floor of the training room, head on a punching bag like itâs your pillow. Heâs like, âYou... you okay? How does that even happen?â He sits down next to you and gives you a little nudge. âYouâre making me look bad, you know that? Iâm over here trying to be all cool, and youâre taking naps in the middle of the Batcave.â He laughs but also kinda adjusts you, âNext time, at least use a pillow or something.â
Bruce Wayne
âYouâre doing this on purpose, arenât you?â Bruce, being Bruce, finds you sleeping in the weirdest placesâand honestly, heâs just not even shocked anymore. One time, youâre passed out on top of the Batcomputer, legs dangling off the side like youâre part of the furniture. Bruce just stares for a second before doing the whole âIâm-not-angry-Iâm-just-disappointedâ thing. âPlease donât sleep in here,â he says, carefully moving you to a more... comfy spot (probably your bed, but heâs not gonna say that). He tries to keep it chill, but there's definitely a dad vibe. "You couldâve at least stayed on the couch." You wake up, confused, and heâs like, âJust... don't fall asleep in the Batsuit next time.â
#batboys#batboys headcanons#damian wayne headcanon#damian wayne x reader#dick grayson headcanons#jason todd headcanons#tim drake headcanons#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#jason todd#batman#bruce wayne#batfamily#duke thomas x reader#duke thomas#tim drake x you#tim drake x reader#red robin#dc robin#tim drake wayne#jason todd x reader#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood#nightwing headcanon#nightwing x reader#nightwing#batfam#dc headcanon#damian wayne
1K notes
·
View notes