hallo! Could you maybe write batboys who accidentally break something important of readers? Either accidentally or during an argument. Like some sentimental ceramic, snow globe, drawing etc? Sorry if this is vague I only have like a half fleshed out idea in me head :>
Them Accidentally Breaking Something Important of Yours | Batboys x Reader
Thank you for the ask, @clementine483! I hope that you enjoy!
Dick Grayson
It happens mid-argument. He’s pacing, hands running through his hair, frustrated tears in his eyes. You’re trying to stay calm, but the tension’s been building for days. When he gestures too hard, too close, the small ceramic bird on your shelf crashes to the floor. The one your late grandmother gave you. The sound cuts through the yelling like a knife. Everything goes still. Dick freezes, staring down at the shards, color draining from his face. “Oh, no…no, no, no, baby, I didn’t…” His voice breaks, and before you can even speak, he’s crouched, trembling fingers trying to piece it together. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean…” He looks up, eyes glossy with guilt. Later that night, he glues it back together as best he can, quietly leaving it on your nightstand with a note: I’ll never let my anger touch what you love again.
Jason Todd
Jason doesn’t even realize it until it’s too late. He’s cleaning up after dinner, sleeves rolled up, bantering with you over something dumb, light, playful. He grabs your favorite mug from the counter, the one you’ve had since high school, and before he can rinse it, his grip slips. The crack echoes in the sink. You freeze. He curses low under his breath, staring down at the shattered pieces, realization sinking in when he sees your expression. “Shit, that was important, wasn’t it?” His voice softens, the bravado gone. You try to laugh it off, but your throat tightens. Jason gently sweeps up the pieces, keeping one small shard in his pocket. Two days later, he brings you a new mug, handmade, dark red ceramic, with the words ‘For my favorite danger magnet’ etched inside the rim. “I know it’s not the same,” he says quietly, “but maybe… it can still mean something.”
Tim Drake
You were showing him your sketchbook, the one you’ve had for years, filled with half-finished doodles, pressed flowers, and messy notes to yourself. He was tired, distracted, spinning his coffee cup absentmindedly. You step away to grab something, and when you turn back, there’s a splash of coffee spreading across the pages. The brown stain blooms over the delicate pencil lines like rot. “Oh my god, no, no, no, no,” Tim blurts, standing so fast he knocks over the chair. He grabs napkins, his hands shaking, muttering apologies like a mantra. You can tell he’s close to tears himself. Later, when you’re quiet and curled up on the couch, he brings you a new sketchbook, hand-bound, with your initials pressed into the cover. “I scanned what I could save,” he says softly. “I know I can’t replace what you made, but maybe I can help you make new memories in it.”
Damian Wayne
It’s during a fight. A real one. Harsh words, raised voices, his temper flaring like wildfire. He slams his hand on the table for emphasis, and the snow globe sitting there, the one you bought together during your first trip abroad, falls and shatters. The silence that follows is deafening. The tiny glass pieces glimmer under the light, and the little figure inside lies broken among them. His expression goes blank, shock replacing fury. “Beloved…” His voice cracks in a way you’ve never heard. He kneels immediately, not even caring that the glass cuts his palm as he picks up the fragments. “I, this was unforgivable. I have dishonored what you treasure most.” His apology is stiff at first, but the guilt lingers for days, until he returns with a new snow globe, custom-made, with a small carving of the two of you inside. “It will not erase my mistake,” he murmurs, “but perhaps it can remind you that I am trying to be better.”
Bruce Wayne
It happens in the cave. You’d brought him a small framed drawing, a messy little sketch of the family, drawn years ago when things felt simpler. He kept it on his desk. During a late-night mission debrief, his hand sweeps across the desk too hard, knocking it off. The crack of glass makes him flinch. He stares down at it, jaw tightening, breath shallow. For a moment, the Batman facade drops completely, he just looks… tired. Human. He tries to fix it himself, but the frame is bent and the glass cut through the paper. When you find out, you expect a small apology, but instead, you find the drawing later, reframed in polished black wood. A tiny engraved plaque beneath it reads: “Family. The one thing I can’t replace.” He never brings it up again, but from then on, you notice he handles everything you give him with a little more care.
hi!!! I love ur writing!! I wanted to request smth :3
What if reader randomly said something really ominous, like "what would you do if I died tomorrow" (nothing is happening she just said it randomly)
How would the batboys react?
“what would you do if i died tomorrow?”
Thank you for the request, anon! This was angsty and I feel so bad for my poor Batboys. I hope this was angsty enough for you!
and five heart attacks later, the batboys learn not to underestimate your random thoughts
DICK GRAYSON — “don’t say things like that, sweetheart.”
He chokes on his coffee. Like—genuinely sputters and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand while staring at you, half concerned, half scandalized. “Why would you even say that?” he manages after a beat, voice high and nervous. He tries to laugh it off, but you can see his hand tremble slightly as he reaches for you. He’s smiling, but his eyes are glassy, his brain already spinning into panic territory. You meant it as a joke, but Dick’s already replaying every patrol in his head, wondering if he’s missed something, if you’ve gotten threats, if he’s missed you needing him. He doesn’t stop hugging you for the rest of the day—“Just in case,” he murmurs when you tease him about it.
JASON TODD — “that’s not funny, doll.”
Jason freezes mid-bite, fork hovering halfway to his mouth, expression caught between “what the hell?” and “don’t you dare joke like that.” He doesn’t say anything for a solid five seconds, just stares at you like you’ve offended his entire bloodline. Then he sets the fork down very slowly, leans forward on his elbows, and goes, “Who do I need to shoot for you to say something like that?” His tone is rough, but there’s something fragile in his eyes. You laugh it off, tell him it’s just a thought, but he doesn’t laugh. He ends up making you promise you’ll text him when you get home, when you wake up, when you breathe. The next morning there’s a bouquet of flowers on your counter with no note, but the card tucked inside says, don’t ever say that again.
TIM DRAKE — “i can’t tell if you’re joking or if i need to call alfred.”
Tim’s typing something on his laptop when you say it, and he freezes—hands still on the keyboard, blinking at the screen as your words register. “Wait—what?” he asks, eyes darting up like he’s afraid he misheard. You repeat it, casual as anything, and he immediately looks like he hasn’t slept in three days (which, to be fair, might be true). “That’s—why would you say that? Are you feeling okay? Did something happen?” He’s pulling up a new tab before you can answer, probably trying to calculate your average life expectancy or some other horrifyingly analytical thing. You have to physically take the laptop away from him and remind him that you’re fine, that you just had a weird thought. He doesn’t relax until you’re in his arms and he can hear your heartbeat for himself.
DAMIAN WAYNE — “i would avenge you, obviously.”
He looks offended. “That is a ridiculous hypothetical,” he says flatly, brows furrowing. You grin and tell him it’s just a question, but he’s already crossing his arms, glaring like you’ve personally insulted his honor. “I would, of course, avenge you. Thoroughly.” You snort, but he’s serious—like, serious. He starts listing possible suspects and security upgrades before you have to interrupt him with a kiss to shut him up. Damian huffs, muttering something about “mortals and their strange morbidity,” but later that night, when he thinks you’re asleep, his hand finds yours under the sheets. He squeezes it tight. Just in case.
BRUCE WAYNE — “don’t.”
He goes completely still. You’ve seen him freeze in board meetings and during stakeouts, but this—this is different. His jaw tightens. His hand, which was resting over yours, curls into a fist. “Why would you ask that?” he says quietly, but there’s something raw in his tone—something that betrays how fast his mind’s running. You try to laugh it off, say it was just a thought, but Bruce doesn’t find it funny. He’s already cataloging your health, your stress levels, the number of times you’ve come home late. That night, he doesn’t go to patrol right away. Instead, he lies beside you in bed, holding you closer than usual, thumb tracing slow circles on your arm. When you fall asleep, he whispers, so softly you barely hear it: “Don’t ever leave me like that. Not without warning.”
Tim Drake
Tim’s clinginess is low-key, but it’s also constant. He’s the type to text you “What’s up? I miss you <3” while you’re just sitting 5 feet away from him. If you so much as stand up to go get a snack, he’s immediately there, like, “Where are you going? Don’t leave me.” He’ll lean against you, his hand finding yours without him even realizing it. When you're watching TV or reading, he’s definitely leaning into your side, trying to get as close as possible without being too obvious. But if you move to shift positions? Nope, he’s following you. He’ll slip his arm around your waist, all like, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that.” He’s not a big PDA guy, but when it’s just the two of you? Prepare for cuddles, hand-holding, and small, random kisses. He’s gotta be touching you constantly.
Jason Todd
Jason is obsessive, no doubt. He’s that partner who’ll try to act like he’s tough and independent, but the moment you show him any kind of affection, he’s all over you. Like, you can’t just hug him. No. He’ll climb into your lap and basically trap you there, rubbing his face into your neck like a cat. He’s gonna constantly ask for kisses, too, but not just little pecks—he wants full-on, deep kisses where he can pull you close and remind you that you’re his. If you’re doing something, like, working or even hanging out with friends, he’ll try to drag you away, be like, “Hey, come hang out with me, stop ignoring me for two seconds.” He’s possessive, but in the cutest way, constantly needing your attention. If you even talk to another person for too long, he’ll give them side-eye and pull you back to him like, “You good? You’re not gonna leave me for some random guy, are you?” He’s also the type to cling to you in bed, hogging the covers and curling up like a human koala.
Dick Grayson
Dick’s clingy energy is pure gold. He’s the most affectionate of the bunch and doesn’t 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. He’ll text you “miss you <3” every few hours when you’re apart, and when you’re together? It’s all about touch. He’s 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 you’re watching a movie, he’s 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 he’ll melt. He’ll whine like, “I’m not clingy, you’re clingy. But also, I love it. So don’t stop.” Honestly, Dick doesn’t care if he’s acting like a bit of a puppy—he’s obsessed with you, and he makes sure you know it.
Damian Wayne
Damian’s clingy moments are hilariously dramatic. He might start out cold, acting like he doesn’t need anyone, but as soon as you show him any affection? He’s all in. He’ll randomly grab your hand and hold it like it’s the most important thing in the world. If you try to walk away from him for whatever reason, he’ll growl and pull you back in, like, “Where are you going? You’re staying right here.” He has this whole vibe of “I don’t need anyone else, just you”, so if you’re talking to someone else or looking away from him for too long, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist and be like, “I don’t think you should be talking to them. They might steal you away from me.” In bed? He’s a hug monster, wrapping his arms around you like he’s never letting you go. He’s all about the intimacy, though—when it’s just the two of you, he’ll 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 that’s goofy and endearing. He loves to follow you around, like, just wherever you go, he’s tagging along. You’re going to the kitchen? He’s there. To grab something from the laundry room? He’s there. If you sit down, he’s sitting on the floor next to you, asking if you want to “cuddle and watch dumb shows together.” He’s always finding excuses to touch you—like, his hand will just casually rest on your knee or he’ll come up behind you and play with your hair. And if you don’t give him attention? He’ll pout, even if he’s trying to play it off, like, “Aren’t you gonna give me a kiss? C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.” He’s the type who’ll give you a silly smile, lean in for a kiss, and then pull you into a full-on hug like, “Don’t go. I’m not done with you yet.” He’s all about the hugs, especially after a long day. You’ll be just chilling, and suddenly he’s like, “Hug time, right? Let me get one.”
Bruce Wayne
Now, Bruce is not the type to openly admit he’s clingy. He’s still the stoic, brooding billionaire who’s been through a lot, but when it’s just the two of you? He’s softer than anyone expects. He’ll always make sure you’re physically close—his hand on your lower back, your legs touching when you sit next to him, and if he’s standing near you, his hand will casually rest on your arm. When you’re working late or doing something serious, Bruce will occasionally pull you away for a few minutes just to kiss you or hold you close. He’s not great at asking for attention, but when he’s feeling clingy, he’ll show you through little gestures. You’ll find him just sitting beside you in silence, just content to be in your presence. He’s a man of few words, but when he’s clingy, it’s all about the touch—the way he holds your hand, how he presses his shoulder to yours, and how he’ll insist on driving you home or waiting up for you, just to make sure you’re safe.
Summary: How each of the Batboys spoil their lovely partner, aka you.
WARNING: implied female reader, fluff.
Dick Grayson
Usually, Dick tries to live pretty modestly. Dick will always be grateful to Bruce for taking him in but he never wants to be dependent on him again. Bruce still insists on giving his eldest ward a monthly allowance but Dick either donates or saves the vast majority. His wages as a police officer are plenty enough to afford a comfortable life in Bludhaven after all.
However, Dick has a few weaknesses: his favorite shampoo, "the good baloney," and his beautiful partner. Oh, Dick loves spoiling you! He regularly brings home little key chains and bracelets for you. On Tuesday mornings he always makes a stop at your favorite bakery and every Friday he comes home with a fresh bouquet of flowers. If you try to protest, Dick becomes very pouty. Very fast. "Why not, firefly?" he whines. He proudly insists its his job to spoil you.
Dick doesn't need money to spoil you. You'll never forget the first time he came back from patrol with a pretty rock in his hands. "I found it on a rooftop," he tells you. "I thought you'd like it." You now have a small collection of colorful rocks on your dresser.
Dick is a firm believer in princess treatment. Want to be carried around the apartment? No problem! Had a long day? Come cuddle on the couch! He already pulled up your favorite movie. Sore? He gives excellent massages! Dick once tried making you breakfast in bed and nearly burned down the apartment. Now he just orders takeout.
Dick’s favorite pastime is spoiling you.
Jason Todd
Jason doesn’t openly spoil you in the way his brothers do. His affection is subtler, more reserved.
Jason grew up in poverty. He isn’t the type to spend money frivolously, he just isn’t wired that way. During his Robin days, Jason would panic when Bruce handed him a few hundred bucks or passed him an expensive gift like it was nothing. Now, between his allowance as a Wayne and income as a crime lord, Jason has more money than he knows what to do with. But in a lot of ways, he still operates like the kid just trying to survive on Gotham’s streets.
Jason probably isn’t going to buy you anything at first. He’ll pay for dinner like the gentleman Alfred raised him to be, maybe even bring a small flower bouquet to the second date, but there are no expensive gifts. Your first date is to a small bookstore cafe you insisted he would love (he did), not a fancy restaurant. For a long time you probably don’t even realize how wealthy he is.
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t spoil you in his own ways. Once you and Jason begin dating, you find your sink no longer drips, the picture you’ve been meaning to hang is perfectly centered on the wall, and car troubles are a thing of the past. You insist he doesn’t have to be your personal maintenance man. “I know, princess,” he tells you quietly. “Just… let me take care of you.”
Meals are taken care of too. To your surprise, Jason is a remarkable cook. He never outright insists on making dinner but always seems to beat you to it. He folds your laundry with zero complaints, makes your tea just how you like it, and files your taxes like a pro.
As your relationship progresses, Jason will occasionally spoil you with an unexpected gift: a new book, that dress/shirt you mentioned liking, or a necklace you spotted at a local craft fair. Jason’s favorite way to spoil you is in mundane, everyday ways. No flash, no pomp, just pure devotion and love.
Tim Drake
Tim is more obvious when spoiling you. Tim was born into wealth. After his parents went bankrupt, their lavish lifestyle dissipated but his family still lived comfortably. Of course, being adopted by Bruce meant a reintroduction into the life of luxury. As CEO of Wayne Industries and a ward to Bruce Wayne, Tim wants for nothing.
Tim, sweetheart that he is, came to your first date with a delicate bracelet and small bouquet of flowers. He was perfect on the date too. He took you to a nice restaurant, pulled your chair out for you, paid for dinner, walked you home, and kissed you on the cheek goodnight. This pattern continues throughout your relationships.
Tim loves buying you gifts. He starts small, not wanting to overwhelm you: a cute plushie, a fun mug, a latte from the cafe he frequents. Overtime, his simple gifts turn into lavish presents. You nearly have a heart attack when you open the box he left on your counter one morning to find a pearl necklace. You call him in a frenzy, insisting it’s too much. “You said you’d always wanted one,” Tim explains sheepishly from the other end. It doesn’t stop there. He comes home with a new dress or suit. He surprises you on a date with a new tablet. Tim still does small gifts, like bringing you your favorite candy bar, but bigger gifts are always sprinkled in.
Tim loves paying for services too. When you mention you and your friends wanting to do a spa day, he insists on paying for all of you and even books the appointment (at the nicest place in town). You’ve given up on paying for your nail and hair appointments. Tim always manages to pay in advance. He pays for any maintenance around your apartment (what he can’t do himself) and has even covered a few of your bills when money is tight. He pretends to be sorry when you scold him but catches the upward twitch of your lips.
Damian Wayne
Damian does not know how to not spoil you. Damian is the child of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al-Ghul, both billionaires with enough money to buy a planet. Like his mother, Damian is naturally doting (some might say overly so.)
Damian spoils you like his life depends on it. New earrings, necklaces, and dresses are constantly filling your closet. (Eventually, it becomes so much Bruce gives you your own walk in closet at the manor.) Glance too long at an item in a store and it will be on your bed by the next evening. However, the bulk of presents Damian gifts you aren't from stores, they're custom made just for you. Your a regular client of award-winning designers in France, Italy, and Korea.
It isn't just fashion either. Damian's love is a steady flow of expensive gifts and dates. Want to see a movie? Damian will rent out the entire theater. Like Tim, Damian pays for any service you require without a second thought: car repairs, hair appointments, cleaning services, meal kits.
Your favorite though? The personal gifts and soft gestures. The drawings and paintings Damian made just for you. The container of Alfred's chocolate chip cookies he brings to movie night because he knows their your favorite. The color coded study guide Damian assembled himself. The night he skipped patrol just to take care of you during your period. The wooden light switch he carved for your room. Damian doesn't do anything in halves. Loving you is certainly no exception.
Do ever think that the villains of Gotham dread the day they accidentally kidnap or harm a BatBoys partner?
Obviously, it isn't well known at first, but rumours get around, and eventually, someone does do it.
Like, Two-Face rounds up a bunch of people to become hostages to ensure his safe retreat, and suddenly, Red Robin is less talkative. And it takes Batman's arrival to peel his side-kick off the goon who's a bloody mess on the floor. Two-Face watches, slightly terrified, as Red Robin stalks over to you and crouches down next to you. Dent makes sure none of his men venture close to your area or workplace from now on.
Red Hood leaves Penguin's newest base in flames and carnage, carrying you out of the front doors while the villain is hanging from the chandelier in cuffs, blue and purple and bleeding. Batman has to rescue him before the flames get too close.
Nightwing lacks wit and a charming smile in the fight against Harley. And you're tied up to the chair she's using as a shield from Nightwing's glaring gaze. She cuts your bonds, and you walk away unscathed. Harley's boys are laying in piles, broken and groaning. She surrendered almost immediately when you called out "Look out, Babe!" She says hi to you on the streets sometimes.
Aged-Up Robin (Damian) is the worst. Most villains hate going up against him normally, but when you're tied up with the rest of the hostages - they surrender almost immediately. Because not only is Robin carving his way through floor after floor of goons, but Batman can't control him. Robin has broken his leash, feral, and not even Batman can call him back. By the time Robin gets to you, the villain has you free and begging for you to calm him down.
froggi yaps -> i bombed my interview so badly today i really needed this comfort ;-; i feel like these kinda suck but this piece was kicking my butt so badly i just needed to get it out :p enjoy
Dick Grayson:
Dick’s sleeping when you text him, the incessant buzzing on his nightstand cutting into the sleep he desperately needs. It had been a long night last night and he didn’t make it home until seven in the morning, going to bed even later than that.
Still, he forces his eyes open and rolls over, grabbing the phone in his hand. He blinks away sleep when he sees the messages are from you, one after the other, each increasingly more panicked.
He’s on his feet in minutes when he reads them, tugging on the nearest clothes he can find and collecting his keys off his nightstand. Opening his phone to track your location, Dick’s on the road in minutes.
You’re sitting under a tree when he finds you, alone and overheating in the middle of a desolate trail just outside of Bludhaven. He calls your name before he approaches, shuffling carefully towards so as not to scare you.
“Dick?” You blink, exhausted from the heat.
He crouches at your side, pressing a hand to your forehead like you’re sick. He sighs, shaking his head and fighting the urge to hunt down your shitty boyfriend and give him a piece of his mind.
“Fuck, he just left you here like this? Do you even have water?”
You shake your head. “He had the backpack,” you explain. “Said I was too slow…”
Fuck, what an asshole. He never deserved you.
Dick helps you to your feet, keeping an arm around your waist to support you. Your steps are shaky, your breathing uneven—clear signs of dehydration.
It’s a long trip back to the car, ending with Dick carrying you on his back. You’re relieved when he finally sets you in the passenger seat, cranking the air conditioning for you.
He passes you a water bottle from his cupholder. “Here, have this.”
You drink half of it in one go, the water helping the dryness that has your throat swelling.
“How are you feeling?” He asks.
“Tired, sad.” You frown, “I feel dizzy.”
Dick puts the car in drive, peeling away from the parking lot and driving back to the city. “You probably will for a while, with how long you were in the heat.”
It’s silent for a while, the exhaustion setting into your bones and a new sort of tiredness weighing over you. You rest your head against the door of the car, letting your eyes flutter closed.
“Come hang out with me, yeah?” Dick finally breaks the silence. “Need to make sure you’re okay.”
You catch the undertone of it, the part that says: physically and emotionally.
You hum in agreement, letting yourself fall back asleep on the door of his car. Dick waits until he’s sure you’re out cold before leaning over and rubbing a thumb across your cheek.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he mumbles more to himself than anything, “I’ll take good care of you.”
Jason Todd:
Jason’s busy when you call, knee deep in a group of goons in the way of your boss. Still, it’s you calling him, and he doesn’t dare leave you waiting.
“Hello?”
You sniffle into the phone, the distant sounds of gunfire making you raise a brow. “Jay?”
He frowns, fighting his way through the men while talking to you like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Are you crying?”
It’s a jumble of words that comes next, each one bleeding into the next and filled with sniffles. Jason strains to hear you through the comms piece in his helmet, the gunfire and sounds of violence almost enough to drown you out.
Still, he gets the gist of it. Fuck, he’s going to lose the target. But he can’t just leave you there.
He sighs, “I’ll be there in five.”
You’re pacing when Jason pulls up, soaking wet with the cold rain hiding the hot tears on your cheeks. If only the rain could hide the redness in your eyes and the way your lips have pulled into a pout.
It’s more than a twenty minute drive from where Jason was to the shitty, dingy bar your boyfriend abandoned you at. Jason made the drive in five, in the rain, on his motorcycle.
“T-thanks for coming,” you sniffle out.
Jason looks around, forcing himself to take deep breaths despite the anger surging in his chest. “You sure that ass—he’s not coming back?”
You shake your head. “He said we’re done.”
Jason shakes his head, showing off the fresh red mark under his chin. You frown, reaching up to run your thumb across the bruised skin beneath his stubble. He’s ditched his Red Hood getup, dressed only in his usual cargo pants and a t-shirt. Raindrops slick over his exposed biceps.
“Let me take you home, alright?”
You nod and then he’s ushering you towards his bike, thrusting his spare helmet into your arms. You buckle it over your head, Jason turning around and tugging the strap to make sure it’s tight.
You look at him through the open visor, blinking away the raindrops that cling to your skin. “Jay?”
“Hm?”
“Do you think you could…stay with me for a bit?”
And he knows he shouldn’t, that he has other things to do tonight, an obligation to himself and this city. “Yeah,” he says, “I can stay a while.”
It’s hours later that you’re asleep on Jason’s lap, head resting on the meat of his thighs. He should’ve left a while ago and yet, he can’t bring himself to go.
Still, watching you lay like this in his arms, warm and dry from the rain your boyfriend left you in, anger still swirls in his stomach. How dare he leave you like that? You could've gotten mugged or hurt or worse, and the very thought has Jason clenching his jaw.
Yeah, he’ll have to pay him a visit later.
Wally West:
Wally’s smile dies the minute he picks up the phone and hears you sniffling on the other end of the line. “Hey, what’s going on?”
It’s an unintelligible mess of words that follows, filled with choked sobs and occasional moments of silence. Somehow through it all, Wally manages to get the gist of it: you and your shitty boyfriend got into a fight on the way home, and he abandoned you at some gas station.
Alone. In the middle of the night. With nothing but your phone.
Hot rage sweeps through Wally and before he knows it, he’s running.
One minute, you’re staring at the screen of your phone, sobbing hysterically. The next, Wally West is at your side, looking just as outraged as he is concerned.
“He did what?”
Seeing your teary eyes and the pouty look on your face only makes him angrier. He clenches and unclenches his hands, forcing himself to breathe.
The anger melts away when you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, sobbing harder. “I don’t—I don’t know what I did wrong.”
Wally is careful to wrap his arms around you, pulling you flush with his body and kissing the top of your head. It’s been so long since he’s gotten to hold you like this, since he’s gotten to care for you, he selfishly drinks it in.
“Let’s get you home, hm?”
You sniffle, peeling your face back just enough to look at him. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“My place, then,” he flashes his best reassuring smile, “don’t worry, doll, I’ll take care of you.”
-
Two hours later and you’re settled on the couch at Wally’s, dressed in his sweatpants and one of his t-shirts. After an hour, he’d finally gotten you to stop crying and instead cuddle up with him on the couch.
Your boyfriend is yet to say anything, to even check in and make sure you didn’t get murdered. It leaves a bitter taste in Wally’s mouth but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little hopeful, too.
It’s when you fall asleep that Wally snaps a picture of the two of you, your head nuzzled into the crook of his arm. He grins as he types, trying his best not to laugh while he drafts the message to your boyfriend.
He reads it over once before hitting send, nodding in satisfaction.
Don’t worry, I’ll clean up your mess.
Roy Harper:
It’s late and Roy wishes he was asleep, and instead, he’s driving an hour away to some random highway where your boyfriend—hopefully soon to be ex—abandoned you on the side of the road.
His hands are clenched tight on the wheel, thoughts racing a mile a minute. His foot is pressed harshly into the gas, each minute that passes only increases his anxiety. He’d asked you to stay on the phone with him but that was before your phone died and your location stopped updating.
He can only hope you listened to him and stayed put, and that no one else comes across you before he does.
Luck is on his side when he spots you pacing back and forth on the side of the road. His foot is on the brake immediately, slowing the car down to a stop just a few meters ahead of you.
You make a break for the car, settling into his passenger seat like it’s somewhere you belong. And to Roy, it is.
He frowns when he sees the tears in your eyes and the way you’re shaking from the cold night. “You alright?”
You sniffle, “barely. I’m freezing my ass off.”
He nods, flicking on your heated seat. He moreso meant the whole being abandoned in the middle of the night thing, but given your closed off demeanour, decides not to push it.
“I don’t understand what I did wrong,” you say quietly.
Roy drops a hand from the wheel, gently squeezing your knee. “You did nothing wrong, that asshole just never deserved you.” Not like I do.
You blink. Maybe he has a point.
And now that he’s started, Roy’s not sure he can stop. “What kind of man just abandons you, alone, in the middle of the night? Don’t you think you deserve more than that?”
“Roy…”
“Seriously, babe,” the pet name slips out so easily that neither of you notice it, “don’t you want to be with someone who loves you properly?”
“Roy,” you say again, more warning than anything.
“God, I take much better care of you than he ever has.”
“Roy!”
He breathes heavily, the gravity of what he just said sinking in. The silence in the car is hot and tense, broken only by the crackling of the heat coming through his vents. Roy slows the car, pulling over to the side of the road.
For a moment, you’re worried he might leave you, too. But then he’s grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him, touch equally scorching as it is delicate. He’s not even sure what he’s doing until he’s leaning in and brushing his lips over yours, the taste of your chapstick like an old friend.
“All I’m saying,” he says quietly, “is that you deserve someone who takes care of you. Okay?”
“O-okay.”
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
heyy can i request an smau with the batboys + clark where they or the reader refers to the other as their spouse to another person (like friend or coworker) while on the phone with reader and the text exchange is just them teasing or being flustered about the title since their only dating? thank you <33
My Husband
featuring: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent
hiii!! i love your smau so much and you write their vibes really well!! i have a request if you want where reader is going out and sends a photo of their outfit and we get the batboys + wally reactions <3
ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ ・you show them your outfit・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ
‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ·❉· ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ︵‿︵‿︵‿ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ·❉· ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵
ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ featuring: dick grayson, bruce wayne, wally west, jason todd, hal jordan, aged up!damian wayne, tim drake, roy harper x reader!!
ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ cw: nsfw 18+, MDNI, fluff, innuendos, crack, established relationships
ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ a/n: hiii thank you for the request and kind words, angel!! we have batboys & wally!! plus a couple additions...tehe 👀 hope u enjoy <3
can you do a textfic where they mean to text their friend how much they love reader but send it to reader on accident 🫶 i love ur textfics sooo much especially hal and wally 🙂↕️
thanks for the request!<3 (even tho you requested this back in summer and i'm very, very late)
*✩‧₊˚ YOU'RE THE TOPIC OF THEIR CONVERSATION BUT THEY ACCIDENTALLY TEXT YOU INSTEAD
TEXTS starring my fave DC men<3: Dick, Jason, Roy, Wally, Bruce, Hal, Barry, Clark
cw: NSFW 18+, MDNI, f!reader, explicit/suggestive texts, mentions of marriage/talks of marriage, established relationships, fluff, swearing, l bombs
Sum: Asking the dirty question of do you jerk it? Do you flick the bean?
Warnings: Very suggestive, Fem! Reader, Flirting/ Sexting, Tim is a bigger freak than Adrian here, some obsessive behavior, mdni
Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Adrian Chase, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Koriand'r
Like this one? Look here for more! smaus are updated weekly ᯓ✦∘˙
Warnings: AFAB! reader, mentions of blood. trauma (comes with the characters), domestic fluff, nudity (non-sexual, but like you're bathing...so to be expected).
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain
Bruce Wayne is particular about bathing; he's the type who needs control over even the smallest routines after handling all the chaos Gotham has to offer. After a brutal mission or a long night spent skulking through Gotham's darkest alleys, his first route is into the bathroom, shedding the city's dirt and someone else's blood caked on his cheek. You've learned through dating not to argue when he tells you, "Let me clean up first." Even your finest, most adorable pout is no match for his need to be alone after a long night. It's not even you bothering him. It's more or less protective, like he can't bear the thought of you touching something that's touched violence. Even if he was the one to invoke it.
But once the grime is gone? He's all yours - even melting into your hands as they come up to cup his chiseled face.
Showers with Bruce tend to be quiet, water running warm while he moves with a sense of purpose. These are the mornings when you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his middle while he goes through his routine, half-indulgent, half-exasperated. He lets you press sweet morning kisses to his back and nibble his shoulder, all while gently nudging you aside to rinse his face. He doesn't say much, but his fingers find your waist and pull you back in every time you drift too far or consider getting out without him.
However, baths are different. Bath nights are softer - sleepier than anything else. Where you can curl against the safety of his chest, and one of his hands will always find your waist, the occasional drum of his fingertips against your belly. The tub is large enough for the two of you, claw-footed and aged, a glass of wine is typically involved - though his lips more often find the crown of your head. You talk, and he listens - his voice a soft rumble against your spine when he does speak.
When it's time to get out, he hands you the softest towel and a plush robe that matches his own. He teases you when you stare, amused at your dazed expression, before sitting you down on the bed to blow-dry your hair. His hands are gentle and cold against the nape of your neck, murmuring, "Can't have you catching a cold, love."
Jason Todd mostly prefers to bathe alone. Not because he doesn't want you there, but because of everything the world has to offer in his line of work. It's dirty - blood, guns, drug money, the aftermath of a raid clinging to his morals and body. He doesn't want your body to even be close to that kind of filth. He scrubs rough nights off his skin until pink and raw, before he even thinks of reaching for you. But on a true day off - lounging, not even scrolling through case files - he reaches for you more.
He knocks on the bathroom door with a half-muttered and gruff edge, "You want company?" or your favorite, "Don't get used to this," and joins you with a plush towel slung around his hips and stormy eyes that rarely leave your face. He'll wash your hair for you - calloused fingers that are surprisingly gentle - and shaves your legs for you, careful not to nick your skin. He's not the type to rush, just likes to take care of his girl when he has the time off.
He likes to sit on the edge while you soak in the tub, often times not joining you inside the water, running his hands through your hair or rubbing knots from your shoulders while you ramble about your day. Sometimes he has comments. Sometimes he just listens, head tilted slightly, eyes heavy-lidded with affection when you sink into his touch. When you're done, he wraps you up in a towel straight from the dryer and hands you a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt. Fully knowing that you'll steal them anyway.
Dick Grayson is annoying - lovable - and proudly so. Much like a dog. He's not nurturing in the traditional sense; he's clingy and pouty and desperate to be near you, always.
In the shower, he plants himself on the ledge, face pressed into your chest, blowing bubbles into the soap and muttering that you're ignoring him. You roll your eyes, but your fingers find his scalp anyway, raking through his damp hair while he melts under your touch. He kisses your skin with soft, wet pecks - your shoulder, your collarbone, the underside of your jaw - until he cranes up just enough to earn one on the lips.
He's not a bath person. He'd rather drag you into the shower with him under the excuse of "saving water," even if it ends in laughter, tickles, and both of you are slippery with shampoo, neither of you remembered to rinse out. He holds you tight when the water gets cold, shivering with you as you complain that he always forgets to time it right.
He sings while you brush your teeth, dramatic and off-key, just because you left him in there alone. He'll wrap a towel around your shoulders like a cape and call you his hero with a loud smack of a kiss to your cheek. He may be annoying, but that's simply him showing you his love in the most comfortable way possible.
Cassandra Cain is interesting when it comes to bathing with you in a relationship aspect. She doesn't join you at first. Instead, she sits on the cold bathroom counter with her legs hanging off the side with a toothbrush that's been in her mouth far too long, just to stay near you - quietly absorbing the way you hum when rinsing your hair, how you wince at too-hot water, how your fingers trace hearts in the fogged mirror just to catch her attention. Cass isn't trying to be distant through her silence; she just wants to understand you out of fear of losing you.
When she finally slips in behind you, her cheeks are tinged a soft shade of pink, her eyes curious and seeking your affection when she catches your gaze, and notices the tilt of your lips when she slips fully into the shower. She doesn't touch without permission - keeps her hands stiff to her side. When you cup her cheek, press a soft kiss to her shoulder when you lean to grab the soap, or help wash her hair, her whole face lights up. Like this is a new level of intimacy she has discovered.
In the bath, she's a bit more needy - selfish even. She tugs you gently against her chest, arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as close as she can so even the still water can't take you away from her. You speak softly, and she listens with her eyes closed, soaking in your warmth like sunlight. You feel her breathing slow, grounding herself in the press of your back to her chest. Timing her breaths with yours, even memorizing the feeling of you in case this suddenly goes away from her.
When it's time to dry off, she insists on doing you first, patting you down with a towel, even as her own hair drips onto the floor. She watches you closely, eyes flicking to your lips, expression unreadable until you ask, "Want a kiss?" and she nods so faintly it's almost invisible. When you kiss her, she breathes out softly, like she wants more but doesn't quite have the words yet. That'll come with time.
