#batboys fluff

[jtoddsbaby]

How do you think the batboys hug their gfs?

A WARM EMBRACE

SUMMARY: how each batboy hugs you (duh)

warnings: fluff, f!reader, sfw but there's some touchy-feely stuff, established relationships (gf!r for everyone but wife!r for bruce), HEADcannons so probably OOC

wc: 445

featuring... dick grayson, jason todd, bruce wayne, damian wayne, and tim drake

a/n: i'm sorry that this is so short!! :(

dick grayson:

i feel like dick would hug his girl around the neck and rest his head atop her own

he'd press sweet kisses into your hairline and whisper about how pretty you are

whole time your head is buried in his chest, your arms around his waist or torso

his hand would rub soothing strokes on your shoulder or back, thumb brushing softly to ground you and slow your thoughts

eventually a hand would come up to stroke your hair, smoothing it down and tangling itself in the strands

jason todd:

full on bear hug. no other answer.

one arm around your waist, the other around your back. hand splayed out over your spine to make sure you're really there

he'd have his head in your neck and would undoubtedly be pressing kisses to the skin and leaving marks

every so often his hand drifts downward to squeeze your ass in his palm. yeah, he's 100% an ass man, no doubt

he's got wandering hands, that's for sure. despite everything i said, his hands would constantly be moving, feeling all over you

bruce wayne:

bruce is a simple man, so i think he'd hug his wife around the waist with his head on top of hers

one of his big hands would rest on the small of your back, the other probably rubbing your hip

he'd lean down, ducking his head to whisper sweet or scandalous things in your ear

if he's feeling especially desperate, his hands would feel over your hips, ass, and thighs, squeezing the flesh, but he usually tries to keep it pg in around the family

damian wayne:

oddly i feel like damian would prefer to be hugged rather than to do the hugging. he doesn't realize how much he loves your touch, but he's not quite ready to be the initiator either

so when you approach him and glide your hands up his arms and over his neck to clasp around his nape, he melts

his hands would tentatively find your hips after a bit before sliding all the way around your waist

he'd get comfortable enough to drop his head to your chest, murmuring a "thank you, habibti"

tim drake:

loves having his face against your chest when you're hugging, so he'd especially enjoy hugging you while he's sat at his desk

you'd stand between his legs, your chest at the perfect height to meet his face. he'd tug you closer by the thighs and bury his face there

his arms definitely wrap around your upper thighs, hands barely grazing the bottom of your ass

he'd be soo content right there, sighing softly and breathing in your perfume

taglist: @celestium-ambrosium @notyouraverageloser-13 @laneythebug @nalah-whimsy @uglyandrotten @starz-boy @ruiboo @goobfeels @pinklyred @magmamaya @sunnylikesreading @shy-guy927

[dollfacefantasy]

you and jason don't fight too much, but when you do, it can get ugly.

he shouts, you yell. the back end of his fist bangs against the wall. your eyes water with tears you refuse to release. you both say things you don't mean, words you wish you could take back the second they leave your lips.

these arguments usually center around one issue. jason's abhorrent communication skills. it can take many forms -- he's struggling but won't come to you for help, he's distant and making you feel at fault, you feel like you're drowning but don't know if you can depend on him to be there.

whatever the specifics may be, it always ends the same way. you, in a storm of fiery defiance, snatch your pillow and blanket from the bed. he scoffs, sarcastically asks you where you're going. you don't give him an answer. you simply make your way to the couch, slamming the bedroom door behind you as loud as you can.

while you set yourself up on the large sectional in the living room, jason is left in empty quietness. he hates it. he doesn't want to be the one to apologize. he doesn't want to need you more than you need him. but more than that, he hates when you're mad at him.

so he lays down, his body stiff and his eyes trained on the ceiling. he waits. he gives it an hour, maybe two if the fight was particularly bad. then he gets up and creeps out to the living room. he scans the dark area bathed in the tv's glow, ensuring you're asleep before he pads closer. he's only correct half of the time, but you let him think you're always unconscious.

carefully as he can, he joins you on the sofa, silently thanking your past selves for buying the one with the wider seats. his thick arm loops around your waist, and he pulls you flush against himself.

he doesn't say anything. he just watches you sleep. he watches how peaceful and perfect you look. he wonders how it was even possible that he was angry at you such a short time ago.

his breath fans against the back of your neck, and he stays still for a minute, making sure you stay asleep. once he feels like you're not at risk of waking up, his hand sweeps over the side of your head. his fingers press against your hair, moving any stray locks away from your ear.

he kisses behind your ear once, twice, then three times, following the curve of the shell. he keeps his face against your skin. your scent floods his head, and warmth fizzles throughout his body. finally his eyes close.

there's no whispered 'i love you' or 'i'm sorry,' but there doesn't need to be. you know those things are true. you can feel them.

divider by @/cafekitsune

[mariaace]

𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅...?

⤷ ゛The batboys are all very different when it comes to treating their partner. But which one do you like best? ˎˊ˗

batboys (separately) x reader, established relationship, fem!reader in mind, header says it all, CLICHE STUFF, the crossed off parts are kind of like things people PORTRAY them as.

A/n: got this idea at 2am when I couldn't sleep

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Bruce Wayne ᯓ

Bruce leads with elegance.

Have you ever wondered what it's like to have a sugar daddy?

He's a man of few words, but thousands of actions. It's never easy to tell what he's thinking or feeling, but he never hides it from you.

And while not relying on his speech a lot, when he does, he's bold. The way he speaks to you is beyond any kind of other conversations you've had in your life. He explains slow without yelling and repeats himself when needed without making you feel stupid for not knowing or understanding.

At the start of your relationship he didn't dare touch you without your permission and to a certain extent, he still doesn't. Instead of words though, now he uses gestures like waiting for half a second or looking up at you before you nod for permission.

"I love you" is the strongest and most meaningful thing for him to say. Because Bruce is always truthful, and when he says it, he means it fully.

You were also shown off. Regardless of Bruce being a very protective man of you, he couldn't help himself but show you to the world. Galas, events, work. Anywhere he could keep you by his side, you'd be asked to accompany him.

And do I need to mention the black amex card being 24/7 in your use? Sometimes you won't even need to ask, because he knows you rarely do. You're just gonna find it next to your coffee the next morning.

────୨ৎ────

Dick Grayson ᯓ

Dick leads with empathy.

Have you ever wondered what it's like to be with the golden retriever guy?

He's a born leader who possesses high emotional intelligence. And that makes him great not only at noticing your problems, but solving them before you even know.

He doesn't need you to tell him when something is wrong or when you're upset, he knows. And you can be sure that that is never ignored.

Unlike Bruce, Dick is a man of both actions and words. He compliments you without a second thought and knows exactly what and how to say it.

No one can deny how social and loved he is. He's the kindest man you've ever known and others could see it too. And Dick is aware he's liked, but he never oversteps. He might be kind to others, but that could never compare to the princess treatment he gives you.

PDA also falls into that category. In public everyone can see you're with him. And he isn't usually a very jealous or possessive man. Neither is he the type to threaten someone, but it's because he doesn't need to. The moment another man spots the gentle, yet firm hand sitting on top of your hips or around your waist, he knows it's time to back off.

Sidewalk rule. It's sacred to him, he swears. The thought of you being in danger even in those small ways terrifies him to the core and he cannot stand it. Call him paranoid, but he will stay like that.

────୨ৎ────

Jason Todd ᯓ

Jason leads with impulsivity.

Have you ever wondered what it's like to be dating a criminal?

While Jason might have that 'bad boy' look with the clothes, motorcycle, muscles and hair, he is certainly far from the confident one in your relationship.

Jason doesn't know how to love 'properly' or at least he thought so. Because he thought there was a right way to do things, until you told them love doesn't have any rules.

That's when he started to show how he is in the relationship. He doesn't wait nor think about what he says or does after he's gotten comfortable. But that's what you can always count on - truthfulness. Because the words come out so immediately he couldn't have possibly even thought of lying to you about something.

Assurance comes along with it. Jason knows what it's like to be troubled with so much and he would never want the person who he loves so dearly to ever feel like he did. So despite it being hard for him, he makes sure you never doubt yourself at what you do.

And last, but not least - the calmness that lays in him under all those feelings. Because when you ask to stay with him, he will never tell you no. And for Jason to allow someone to see him in all kinds of states is enough to prove how much he cares.

────୨ৎ────

Tim Drake ᯓ

Tim leads with intelligence.

Have you ever wondered what it's like to date a nerd?

Tim has always relied on his intellect. Before and while being Robin. It is one of his traits that has been most useful to him his whole life. And that's why he puts it in his relationship too.

Most of the time it doesn't even happen on purpose. But in his head he just does it without realizing. The amount of time you've spent doing certain things, whether you're being repetitive or simply checking where you are sometimes.

...Honestly kind of creepy if you ask someone else about it. But he doesn't do it with that intent. Most of the time, he doesn't even have an intent on doing it. It just happens. He loves you, he wants to know you better - sue him.

Because those things later turn into him understanding you better. In certain situations, on what to get you as a gift, on how you feel during certain situations based on your expression and in what mood you are in.

He's happy when you are, so just lay there with him and sleep for a day and a half and the marriage proposal will be right there, believe me.

────୨ৎ────

Damian Al-Ghul Wayne ᯓ

Damian leads with independence.

Have you ever wondered what it's like to date the black cat?

Damian has been raised in a...certain way that may not always align with everyone's way of seeing things and he has already accepted that. But he also can't deny how much he has picked up from it.

He possesses a caring nature under all the negative emotions and the only time you could see this is when he's with his animals and you. And he shows it in a quite specific way, because growing up without a father and a mother (to an extent) figure certainly has created a mindset in him.

If you want something, you go and get it yourself.

And that's how he does everything when it comes to your relationship with him too. If he wants to say something, he will. And you best believe he'd do everything for you.

Because while Damian may seem rough outside, he treats his partner with the most respect that he doesn't even hold towards himself. He makes sure you're always taken care of, not because of gender roles or traditions, but because that's the best way he has to express exactly how much he feels.

© mariaace 2026 - do not steal, copy, translate or feed my work into ai!

[vianawaits]

Until failure

Summary & CW:  fluff, suggestive content, on a mission, established relationship, batfam dynamic, crack fic, pride & prejudice mention, catwoman protégé!reader, second person, no use of y/n

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Another piece out the Kiln! Thank you to @inesvisible for requesting, I had sm fun with this one! Inspired by that one youtube video (it’ll make sense at the end). I hope you enjoy my lovelies

“How much you wanna bet that Bruce and Selina are making out on some rooftop right now?”

“You know, I’d really rather not.” Jason’s face contorts in disgust. Anything that involved thinking of Bruce and his dating life always made him squirm, it was hysterical.

They were all like that. All the Robins viewed Bruce as this ancient fatherly figure. To you, he’s just Bruce. Maybe it was because of all the times you caught him doing the walk of shame from Selina’s room, but it never bothered you to talk about it.

Selina was more… open when it came to her romantic life. A lot more open than Bruce you were willing to bet.  

It was so different than to how they were raised. Bruce was a father to them, he was this brooding figure who relished in seriousness. While Selina was like an older sister to you, she taught you how to take a shot without reacting.

“I didn’t have you pegged for such a virgin Jason.”

He freezes, burger halfway in his mouth and turns to you. A deadpan plain on his face.

“You know I’m not a virgin.”

“Oh? Do I?” He was so fun to tease, especially when that one eyebrow on his face rose. Danger dancing across the arch.

“Oh I would hope so.” He decides to start playing back. “Otherwise I’m going to have to have a long conversation with who left that hickey on your thig-”

“Aaaaaaand that’s enough you two.” Dick’s voice rings through the comms. “We have minors on this line.”

You snort and Jason rolls his eyes from where he’s sitting next to you.

“While I find there topic of discission crude,” Damian starts to pitch in. Obviously offended that his age is a discriminating factor for the conversation. “Todd and his special friend need not to shy away the topics of sexual intercourse for my sake, Grayson. They ought to do it to retain some level of decency.”

Damian starts squabbling with Dick on their own end your gaze shifts sideways to Jason, his eyebrows are twisted together in amusement. He meets your eyes and you mouth “special friend” to him. And that devastating Jason Todd grin breaks out on his face, the one that had angels singing and clouds parting. It’s toothy and too big for his face, too innocent for the scars.

He shrugs and mouths back, “improvement.”

It’s your turn to bite back a laugh and your neck strains from the grin.

Muting yourself from the comms this time, you scrunch your nose to get his attention. “Circling back to my initial question,” he groans. “How much would you be willing to bet I’m right.”

“I don’t want to play this game.” He grumbles into his burger after muting himself.

“Too bad.”

Huffing out a breath as if this question has personally wronged him, he ponders for a moment . “If they aren’t,” he pauses. “I’ll do dishes for next two weeks.”

Jason Todd rarely complained about household chores with you. He loved the domestic side of life you gave him in breaths stolen from Gotham. A secret part of his heart warmed when he caught himself wondering if he took the trash out on Tuesday mornings, or if he picked up the almond milk for you coffee at the corner store, or if he remembered to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer. It was the simple little things that were now intertwined in his life that reassured the quiet peace fate finally granted him.

However, washing dishes was the exception.

He’d dry them, put them away, reorganize them anyway you wanted. But he hated washing them.

So you met him halfway. After all, he did essentially everything else.

“That’s big from you.” It comes out like a tease and he sticks his tongue out at you.

“I don’t see him doing that stuff on patrol.” That’s when you knew you won. It’s unfair, but you’d heard stories form Selina. Stories that assured you, you were right. “He’s too anal about this stuff- patrol is life or death for him.”

When you hum noncommittedly, he scoffs. “You start patrolling with us one year ago and you think you have us all figured out.”

“Maybe I do.” You answer, your voice light and fun in the way that draws him in. “If I win, you have to do anything I want tonight.”

“How is that different from any other night?”

Those words land somewhere you don’t want to name. It’s true. He never told you no. Jason had spent his whole life pushing back against people, challenging them, yet he never did that with you. In small everyday moments maybe, it was to be expected; to grow together, it was necessary. Yet when push came to shove, Jason Todd was at your beck and call and always said yes.

“You’ll see.” Is all you offer him when you unmute the call.

“Oracle,” your voice cuts through Dick, Damian, Tim, and now Steph’s bickering.

“I don’t like the tone of your voice.” Barbara’s voice sing songs through the earpiece.

Jason’s eyes stay locked on yours with a squint. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“What’re Bruce and Selina doing right now?”

A smirk pulls at your lips and Jason starts shaking his head when the click-clacking of Barbara’s computer sounds through the speakers. A deep sigh from her is the sound of victory for you.

“I don’t think you want to know.”

“Oh I think I do.” The remaining gang of bats that was on the line start yelling protests when they hear the grin in your voice.

“BABS NO-”

“PLEASE DON’T-”

“I’m going to be disappointed aren’t I?”

“FREAKS! ALL OF YOU-”

Jason’s snickering while accepting defeat. Then, Barabara’s voice rings like a melody in your ears.

“They’re… otherwise engaged on a rooftop off eleventh and Washington.” Her words are chosen carefully and muffled groans echo after her.

“Thank you lovely.” Your voice is sweet as honey and Jason’s still shaking his head next to you.

“Do I even want to know why you asked?”

“Probably not.” And with that, you mute your mic again.

Looking over at him, even with defeat lingering in the wrinkles of his smile, he’s gorgeous. It was gut-wrenching that he didn’t see how beautiful he was. He put everyone else to shame. No one should look as heavenly as Jason Todd did with grease coating his lips and neon lighting his eyes.

Yet here he was, an angel plucked from the sky.

“Okay doll,” resignation dripping from his teeth. “What do you want me to do?”

“Oh you’re cute,” you purr. Your thumb wipes the ketchup on the corner of his mouth, his face brightening to the color of the condiment as you lick it off your finger. “You think I’m going to tell you now? Where’s the fun in that pretty boy.”

He scoffs with no heat behind it. Even as disbelief bleeds from his forehead, you can tell he’s exactly where he wants to be. “You’re a dangerous thing aren’t ya? We gotta put a warning label on you or something.”

“As if you’d shy away from a warning label.”

He snorts because he can’t say that you’re wrong. Nothing could ever keep Jason Todd from running back to you.

•───────•°•♡•°•───────•

“-but said not a word.”-pant- “After a silence of several minutes.” -another pause- “he came towards her in an agitated manner, -gasp-  and thus began- Baby please.”

He sounds cute like this, and you’re almost tempted to grant him the reprieve he wants.

But he looked too good.

Sitting on the foot of the bed, you merely watched him. You watched as Jason Todd remained in a plank after being stripped down to his underwear. Sweat was beginning to coat his back and you’re not sure if you’ve ever seen a more divine sight.

The small black boxers were leaving little for the imagination as the book laid under his head.

“Not yet honey,” you remind him, enjoying this a little too much. “You have to finish the chapter or go until failure. And you wouldn’t fail me now, would you?”

In light of winning your bet, you decided to make your lovely boyfriend get undressed to almost nothing and read Pride and Prejudice. This was your favorite chapter, and he loved to tell you how he loved you “most ardently” all the time.

Might as well make him prove it.

Maybe it was a little cruel to make him do this after patrol. But he agreed.

“I won’t.” He’s panting like a dog starved of water.

“Then get back to reading.” You hum.

His head hangs low for a second, curls bouncing in his face. His back muscles are so defined in this position, your tempted to lick the sweat straight off him.

“In vain have I struggled. -deep breath- It will not do. My feelings will -another pant- be repressed. You must allow me -another deep breath- to tell you – a wrecked groan- how ardently I admire and love you.”

And just like that, you realize you were going to have to start betting on Selina and Bruce more often.

•───────•°•♡•°•───────•

A/N: inspired by this lovely post (asia I love you)

TAGLISTS All: @gglouise23 @demigod-jack-hearth @nicndick @scissorhvnds @princessak @slut4hotppl @bat1nsignia @starr-jazz @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @mystiquevoid @patientofarkhamasylum @darkxwolfsstuff @starkkat @loserinadress @leovaldez0924 @actualunicornn Jason Todd: @celestialnightwing @inesvisible @angelicwing @igotcrabs4u @theonlysakura @clownstheyreeverywhere @starrydustedwinter @valinat @rae-akarui @currentblasphemy @kisses717 @waltermis

[invincibledc]

Nightwing: behold! My secret weapon!

(Dick pulls out chubby baby!reader who smiles with their gummy teeth.)

Criminal: MUHAHAHA stupid hero! No baby can—

(Criminal accidentally stares into the pure soul of chubby baby!reader who reached out to the air as they kick their cute baby feet and giggle)

Criminal who is now distracted: Awwww! How old are they?

Nightwing who is now gushing at the baby, completely forgetting his mission: 6 months old ! They are such a cute baby.

Criminal with heart eyes at how cute the baby is: they’re like a sack of potatoes!

(Robin popping up out of no where and clocking the criminal upside the head to knock them out.)

Robin: Our mission is done. Let’s go home, I wanna show Y/N all my sword collection.

[starksweasley]

a proper apology

pairing: rhysand x reader

summary: it's absolutely impossible to resist the magic that is rhysand's face, even when you're angry with him.

wc: 1.3k+

The morning light filtering through the House of Wind's windows had absolutely nothing to do with your mood, which remained, despite the sun's best efforts, stormy.

Rhysand had done something unforgivable the night before. He'd promised (with that solemn hand-over-heart nonsense he knew always made you laugh) that he'd be home in time for the dinner you'd spent all afternoon planning. A ridiculous wager about who could actually cook a decent meal without cheating and using magic to speed things along. You'd marinated, you'd chopped, you'd burned your knuckle on the pan and refused to heal it just so you could hold the injury over him dramatically at dinner.

And then he simply hadn't come home.

Some court business with Keir had swallowed him whole, four hours past when he'd said he'd be back, and by the time he finally winnowed into the dining room, you'd already eaten alone.

You'd gone to bed and pretended to be asleep when he slid in beside you murmuring apologies into your hair, one hand splayed warm over your stomach like he could apologize his way through your skin if words wouldn't do it.

You were not currently speaking to him.

This was, you'd decided somewhere around three in the morning while glaring at the ceiling, a matter of principle. It wasn't about the dinner…not really. It was about the look on his face when he'd finally arrived, like he expected you to simply forgive him on the spot because he was Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, devastatingly handsome and devastatingly aware of it. Well. Not today.

You descended the stairs into the main room with your chin high and your resolve firmly buckled into place, sailing past where Cassian and Rhys sat hunched over a spread of papers. 

"Morning, Cass," you chirped, leaning down to press a bright, affectionate kiss to his cheek.

Cassian blinked, clearly thrown by the sudden enthusiasm. "Uh—morning?"

"Good morning, darling," Rhys said, looking up with an easy, hopeful smile.

You hummed and glided straight past him toward the kitchen with the singular purpose of a woman who had a cup of tea to make and absolutely no High Lords to acknowledge in the process.

Behind you, the silence stretched. One second. Two.

Then Cassian's low, delighted snort, badly disguised as a cough. "Oh. Oh, that's bad."

"Shut up."

"No, no, take your time, genuinely, this might be the single greatest thing I've witnessed all week—"

"I said shut up, Cassian."

You allowed yourself a small smirk as you reached the kitchen, already reaching for the kettle, already congratulating yourself on your flawless execution of Operation Ignore Rhysand Into Submission.

You heard the scrape of a chair, papers rustling with far less diplomatic care than they probably deserved, and then the unmistakable, rapid cadence of footsteps closing the distance behind you at a speed that was unfair.

You picked up your pace, aiming for the far counter like it was a finish line in some race you hadn't agreed to enter.

You did not make it. Obviously. He had wings and several centuries of reflexes and you had a nightgown and injured pride.

An arm banded around your waist, spinning you with a dizzying ease that made your stomach swoop despite your best efforts, and then your back met the edge of the kitchen counter, Rhysand's body caging you in on either side with his forearms braced against the counter, close enough that you could smell that maddening scent of his.

You squirmed. Half-heartedly. In the specific way that technically qualified as resistance on paper but wouldn't have dislodged a mildly determined kitten, let alone a male who had absolutely zero intention of letting you go anywhere.

This is, annoyingly, your favorite place in the entire world.

Still, you fixed your gaze pointedly on the small, fascinating patch of wall just past his left ear.

Rhysand groaned. "Darling."

You said nothing. The wall was really quite an interesting shade of gray.

"You're doing the thing," he said, "where you look at literally anything except me. I invented that move. You cannot use it against its creator."

Still nothing. Riveting wall. Truly.

His hand came up, catching your chin with a gentleness that was almost more infuriating than if he'd been rough about it, tilting your face up until you had nowhere left to look but directly into those wounded violet eyes.

"Please talk to me," he murmured, thumb brushing along your jaw. "I'm sorry."

You jerked your chin sideways out of his grip with as much dignity as you could muster, reinstating your glare at a slightly more aggressive angle.

He simply followed, tugging your face back to his with unbothered patience.

"Stop it!" you burst out, voice cracking with something caught halfway between fury and helpless laughter. "I can't be mad at you when I have to look at you! That's not fair, that's basically cheating, you know what your face does to me—"

Something amused flickered across his features, entirely too pleased with himself for someone who was technically still in trouble. His head tilted slightly, dark hair falling across his forehead, and he had the audacity to look smug about it. "Then stop being mad at me, you stubborn monster."

"I don't want to!" The words came out wobbly, more frustrated than you intended, and to your absolute horror you felt your eyes go hot and prickling at the edges. Not sad, just overflowing with the sheer indignity of being furious and thoroughly charmed in the very same breath.

Rhysand's expression melted instantly, all traces of smugness gone, replaced by something so soft and worried it was borderline unfair on top of everything else. "What's wrong now, my love?"

"I'm mad at you," you said thickly, glaring through the threatening tears with everything you had, "for making me mad at you. Which means it's still your fault, so don't look at me like that."

He pressed his lips together, valiantly fighting back a smile and losing rather badly. "Okay. Noted. How do I fix it?"

"I don't know!" You shoved uselessly at his chest, which accomplished nothing except reminding you exactly how solid he was, which was, again, deeply unhelpful to your cause. "Apologize properly, you overgrown bat. Grovel a little. I want groveling."

He brought both hands up to frame your face fully now, thumbs brushing gentle, reverent strokes at your cheekbones, all traces of teasing finally gone soft and sincere, that particular quiet voice he only used for you and no one else in any court. "I'm sorry I made you be mad at me. I should have known better than to behave so despicably. You're perfect, and you're never wrong, even when you're glaring at me like I've personally offended your entire bloodline. And I love you."

You glared up at him, eyes still glassy, jaw stubbornly set, fighting the traitorous twitch pulling at the corner of your mouth. A long beat passed, tense and ridiculous and entirely too fond.

"Fine," you finally grunted, like the word cost you something precious. "You're forgiven. But I'm still telling everyone I won the cooking bet."

"You didn't even finish the bet—"

"You are so—"

He didn't wait a heartbeat longer, hauling you flush against him and kissing you deeply, thoroughly, one hand sliding into your hair while the other pressed warm against the small of your back like he was trying to physically communicate every apology he hadn't managed with words. You melted into it despite yourself, despite the whole morning, despite Cassian's very audible presence somewhere behind you, and Rhysand laughed low into the kiss, delighted and relieved in equal measure.

"You ridiculous woman," he murmured against your lips, "conceding a war over one bowl of cold soup."

"It was excellent soup," you muttered back, "and you missed it."

"I did." He kissed you again, softer. "Never again."

From the doorway, Cassian's voice rang out, thoroughly unbothered by decency. "You two are disgusting, and also I'm telling Mor she owes me money. She bet you'd hold out until lunch."

[fear-is-truth]

જ⁀➴ HOW THEY CELEBRATE VALENTINE’S DAY WITH YOU

ft. bruce wayne ‧ dick grayson ‧ jason todd ‧ damian wayne ‧ tim drake — headcanons

a/n: happy valentine’s day !! ♡

BRUCE WAYNE doesn’t really care about valentine’s day. he cares about you, though, which means he acknowledges it, even if he’d rather ignore the whole ordeal. a private dinner, away from prying eyes, in a restaurant where the lighting is low and the waitstaff are paid to be invisible. at some point, he slides a gift across the table—carefully chosen, either indulgent or deeply personal. a diamond necklace, or maybe a signed first edition of your favourite book—something you’d mentioned in passing months ago, tucked away in a conversation. he remembered. later, in the limo, bruce pulls up the partition before finally, finally catching your mouth in a kiss.

DICK GRAYSON loves valentine’s day. loves love. loves you. so he goes all out. you wake up to breakfast in bed: heart-shaped pancakes smothered in syrup with strawberries piled high. the card he hands you has a corny pun, but devastatingly sweet. he pairs it with an enormous teddy bear (too big to fit on the bed) the whole day is an adventure—ice skating, movie, rock-climbing, and when the sun starts to dip under the horizon, he leads you to the rooftop, setting up a picnic under the stars with an overpriced bottle of wine.

JASON TODD thinks valentine’s day is bullshit. it’s a scam designed to separate idiots from their money over overpriced chocolates and flowers that die in a week… but if it matters to you, then it matters. so he shows up at your door, a second helmet in hand, jerking his head toward the motorcycle without a word. he takes you on a ride through the city, the wind whipping past, your arms wrapped around his waist. when you get back, instead, when you get back, he orders greasy takeout—nothing fancy, just what you both want. the food barely lasts ten minutes before it’s abandoned, containers shoved aside, forgotten as he pins you onto the couch. the whole night was just prelude to this.

DAMIAN WAYNE does not partake in artifice or frivolity. no, he doesn’t acknowledge valentine’s day at all. the flowers, chocolates, saccharine bullshit irritates him. but you wake up to find a oblong wrapped package on your nightstand, and when you open it, it’s a weapon. a beautiful, custom-forged blade, perfectly balanced, your initials engraved into the hilt. when you ask him about it, he barely glances up from his sketchbook. if you are to be involved with me, you should be properly equipped. but you think you can see the tiniest flicker of satisfaction when you tell him you love it.

TIM DRAKE planned the entire thing weeks in advance. he’s always been an overthinker, and wants everything to be perfect for you. he shows up at your door slightly frazzled, running on caffeine and pure determination. over dinner (the reservation booked since christmas), he hands you a small velvet box. inside, a minimalistic yet stylish bracelet—just when you‘re about to thank him, he just smirks and presses the clasp. it’s not just jewelry. it’s a custom-built device, wired with a discreet GPS tracker, a silent distress signal, and—his personal favourite—a high-voltage taser disguised as a charm. just in case, he tells you, like it’s an afterthought.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[pr1nceofg0tham]

little bird 𖥔 jason loves you, he just can’t say the words…

𖥔 pairing jason todd x gn!reader

𖥔 tw/genre hurt comfort kinda, fluff, est. relationship, sick fic, jason being sweet and self deprecating as per usual, reader is sick and in love, nods to a hallmark movie, inescapable longing and love for jason todd. unedited.

𖥔 w/c 1614

𖥔 a/n this is my first ever jason todd fic!! i've been wanting to start writing for him for a while now, and now that it's summer there is no excuse, i hope you like this fic as much as i liked writing it!

please please tell me how you felt about this one and if you have any ideas for future fics, i'm all ears!!! mwah mwah mwah!!

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, little bird,” he tells you—voice gruff and unsure in its sweetness. 

Jason never feels right giving comfort; more at ease with violence and anger, but you’re too precious for anything but soft words and softer touches. He loves you, that much he’s sure of, but he lacks the confidence. 

You’re everything to him, the only thing that matters as much as his rage, and how can that be? You’re nothing but love, nothing but soft smiles and golden hour laughs. He feels as though he’s loved you forever, even though it’s only been a few months–He’s still keeping you hidden away, placed inside his chest cavity and locked up safe from his family… more than a secret, less than a lie. 

So far the relationship has been clumsy and quiet; Friday night movies and diner dates–it’s fragile in its newness, but the love is bright. Jason knows he loves you, has told you in his own awkward way, but the words won’t come. 

You’ve said them, out loud and honest, yet for some reason he can’t get them out of his mind; they’re in his head, in his hands, even in his eyes, but his tongue is a stubborn bastard. Instead of saying it he ties your shoes for you and makes you breakfast, reminds you to take your meds and drives the speed limit. Every action he takes is in service to you, every time he steps out for patrol it's to make the city safer for you, yet still he can’t get himself to confess. 

He wishes he could say it as easy as you do, they way your lips curl around the vowels and snap out the consonants. It’s so simple to you, you love him so you tell him, but Jason is a stranger in the realm of love, and the language still fits clunky in his mouth. 

This morning he cursed himself for not being able to say it, it was impossible to see you in your work clothes–done up and lovely–and have to say goodbye. The emotion flooded over him, sweeping him away in a sneaker wave of pure unadulterated poison. He’d been familiar with pain, knew the shape of it in his bones, yet the violence of the moment–of saying goodbye to you when he wasn’t ready–had been horrid. Still the words couldn’t come. 

And now you’re here in his apartment, bundled up in his shoddy sheets, sick as a dog and crying about nothing. 

You got caught in the rain, (unexpected in the Summer Gotham heat) and you were drenched before you made it around the block. Jason’s apartment was closer, and while it might not have been the best option on account of the broken thermostat and generally bad insulation, the thought of being soaked through and tired was better if your boyfriend was around. 

The cold came on fast, hitting you before he was even home from the library, a gnarly inescapable thing that riddled you unable to breathe. Jason found you with a red nose and glassy eyes, and suddenly all of Alfred’s lessons came barreling into focus. Before you could kiss him hello he had you in bed, wrapped in his silken sheets and a thermometer under your tongue. He’d been so sweet, making you soup and turning on the cheesiest movie he could find–one about a young girl moving back home and falling in love with a cowboy or something. 

You love him so much, this sweet man… You know it’s hard for him– to show affection without worrying it will be used against him or torn away–but still he tries, venturing into life with you with the bravery of a wounded soldier. Seeing him fuss over you… the way he pouts as he brings his lips to your forehead to feel if you have a fever, and his bright smile when he discovers you don’t… You love him, maybe that’s what brings the tears–the fact that you love this sweet boy, and he loves you even if he can’t say it. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Why are you crying?” 

“I don’t know, Jay,” you tell him, “I think I just love you, y’know” 

“And that’s making you this sad?!” He doesn’t understand… Love’s supposed to be transcendent and happy, at least that's what people say. Yet, if you’re this sad when you think of him, he must be doing something wrong… He remembers that poisonous feeling of saying goodbye to you, is that what love is? Poison and tears and insecurity?

He thinks back to the first time he saw you: frostbitten and chilly from the winter air, you looked a little like you do now–red nosed and shivering–he fell into love like a skydive, terrified and gasping, but there you were: lovely and honest and everything he never knew he needed. He feels like that now, adrenaline filled and anxious. He just wants you to be okay, it kills him that you’re sick, that you’re crying over him instead of eating your soup. 

“No, baby, it’s making me happy…” you say, laughing through your gasping sobs. “I mean look at you, you’re so handsome and you’re taking care of me.” 

Jason laughs, sighing out a great gasp of relief. All he ever wants is to take care of you, to make sure you’re safe and happy. Still crying, you let him lead the spoon into your mouth, swallowing the broth slowly so as to not choke through your tears. He’s as patient as ever, using your hand to shovel more onto your utensil, feeding you bite after bite until the bowl is clean. 

You know he loves you. 

You can see it in how he looks at you, how his calloused hands graze softly against your skin, and the way his voice never raises. You know he loves you, and truthfully you don’t need him to say the words, just as long as he continues looking at you the way he is now–like you’re some lost treasure he just happened across. You hope he won’t be scared to say the words forever, but if he is you’ll take the looks and the soft touches… you’ll love him forever if it means he keeps looking at you the way he is now. 

“You sure, sweetheart?” He asks, still a little nervous. “I don’t want you to be lying to me just cause I’m tender hearted” The quick of his brow makes you giggle, nuzzling closer to the hand that wipes away your tears. 

“Of course, honey, I would never lie to you.” You tell him, and you mean it as sure as sunrise. 

His heart swells, stuttering in his chest as he watches your crumpled form, God he loves you. As if to prove it, he moves closer–moving your empty bowl to the side table and wrapping you in his arms. You’re close enough you can hear his heart, the familiar song lulling you with its quick rhythm. Jason feels bad, but he loves you like this: sweet and helpless, finding comfort in his hold when you could find it anywhere else. 

For a while you just lay there, chest to chest, neither of you truly paying attention to the movie but laughing at the corny parts all the same. Every once in a while he pulls away to give you a tissue or take your temperature, completing a list of steps that are only really obvious to him. He finally breaks the silence to say again, 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, little bird.” He says it is sweeter this time and quieter too, always earnest, your Jason.

“It’s okay, Jay, I’ve gone through worse.” You can feel him wince at your words, always sensitive to hearing about you hurting. He hates it, hates knowing that you’ve ever had any struggle–that there were moments where he couldn’t keep you safe, even if it's just because he didn’t know you yet. 

“I just hate to think of you in pain, baby,” He says, “Should only ever wear a smile.”He squeezes you tighter as he says this, and his accent gets looser, devolving back into that Gotham street kid he always was. 

You love him like this, cozy in his sweater and warm from your shared body heat. You love him, and you’d tell him everyday if it made him get closer to believing he deserves it. 

“Ah well, in sickness and in health and all that.” 

“Oh I didn’t know we took any vows,” He says, but his heart jumps and his hold on you gets tighter. 

“I love you honey,” you say. Honest and true, matter of fact. It’s a little out of place disjointed to the current conversation–there is no humor in your voice or in your eyes when they meet him– but it's true, and you promised him you’d always be honest. You love him, you would never joke about that. 

Jason thinks about all the times he wanted to say it back… All the times the words almost emerged and enveloped you, he wishes he could say it. Wish he could wrap you up in the phrase and not be afraid, but it’s still too harrowing. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, yet you’re the one that’s paying–that breaks his heart. He loves you so much, even if he can’t say the words… even if all he can do is make you soup and tuck you in at night, and make sure the world is safer for you. He loves you, and he tells you the best way he can. 

“Me too, little bird, me too.”