synopsis ⠀:: ⠀ when you hug their face in your boobs.
including ⠀! ⠀ dick grayson. jason todd. tim drake. damian wayne. ✶
contents ⠀! ⠀ fem reader. nsfw. obsessive characters. the boys being phatethic and in love. masterlist. english is not my first language. ✶
DICK GRAYSON
he's so fucking touch starved it's not even funny. like yeah he's dick grayson, everybody loves him, he's got that charming smile, but when's the last time someone just held him? really held him? not because he was bleeding out or because the world was ending but just because he needed it.
so when you're sitting on the couch and he comes home from patrol, still wired, jaw tight, that little crease between his eyebrows that he gets when he's been thinking too hard—
you don't say anything. you just reach up, grab the back of his neck, and pull his face right into your chest.
he makes this sound. this broken little exhale. like all the air just left his body at once.
his hands come up immediately, gripping your waist, and he just melts. face pressed into the soft swell of your cleavage, nose buried in your sternum, and you feel his whole body go slack against you. his shoulders drop. his breathing slows. his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt.
"fuck," he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin. "needed this."
you're wearing one of those low cut tops and he's not even being sexual about it at first. he's just breathing you in. his lips are parted against the curve of your breast, warm breath fanning over your skin, and his eyes are closed.
you run your fingers through his hair, scratch his scalp the way he likes, and he groans. deep and rumbling, vibrating right through your skin.
"hard day?" you ask.
he doesn't answer. just nuzzles closer, turns his head, and presses his mouth right over your nipple through the thin fabric.
oh...
his tongue flicks out, wetting the material, and you feel his hips twitch against your thigh. he's getting hard. just from this. just from being close to you like this.
so cute.
"let me," he whispers, already pulling your top down, and then his mouth is on bare skin and he's gone.
he doesn't rush. he's so earnest about it. worshipping your tits is a privilege he's been granted. he licks and sucks and moans against your skin, leaving wet patches everywhere, pulling your nipple into his mouth and rolling his tongue over it until it's hard and aching.
"pretty," he breathes against you. "so fuckin' pretty. taste so good."
he switches to the other breast, gives it the same attention, and his hips are rolling against your thigh now, grinding slow and desperate. he's not even trying to get off. he's just feeling the moment.
when he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, his hair's a mess, and there's drool on his chin.
"better?" you ask, smiling.
he laughs, a little breathless. "yeah. sorry. got carried away."
you pull him back in.
he doesn't complain.
JASON TODD
it's his favorite thing.
not that he'd ever say that out loud.
but you know. you know because when he comes home with blood on his knuckles and red in his eyes, he walks straight to you, drops to his knees, and presses his face into your stomach. wraps his arms around your waist and just breathes.
you're standing in the kitchen, making tea, and he's there with his face buried in your shirt.
"jason," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair.
he growls like a dog.
yeah. he don't want you to say anything romantic rn.
but then you sit down, pull him up, and pull his head to your chest. and he fall into you, all the fight just drained out of him. his whole weight pressing you into the couch cushions, his face smushed between your tits, his arms locked around your ribcage like he's afraid you'll disappear.
"you're okay," you murmur. "you're home."
he doesn't say anything. just turns his head and bites down on the soft flesh of your breast through your shirt. not hard enough to hurt. just enough to feel. to remind himself you're real.
"jason."
"shut up." his voice is rough. "let me have this."
so you do. you let him mouth at your tits through the fabric until your shirt is soaked and clinging to your skin. you let him pull it down and latch onto your nipple like a starving man. you let him suck hard enough to make you gasp, his stubble scraping against your sensitive skin, his big hands squeezing and kneading your breasts.
"so fuckin' soft," he groans against you. "could live here."
his tongue is hot and rough, and he's not gentle about it. no he's desperate. sucking and licking and biting, marking you up, leaving bruises on your chest that'll bloom purple by morning.
he's hard. you can feel him pressing against your thigh, thick and throbbing, and he grinds against you.
"jason," you breathe. "let me take care of you."
he pulls back just enough to look at you. pupils wide, lips wet, jaw tight.
"you already are," he says.
then he buries his face back in your chest and doesn't come up for air for a long, long time.
TIM DRAKE
tim hasn't slept in three days. he's staring at his laptop, eyes bloodshot, coffee cup empty for the fourth time, fingers still moving but getting slower.
so you do the only thing that works.
you walk up behind him, slide your arms around his shoulders, and pull his head back against your chest.
he makes a confused little sound.
"what're you—"
"shh."
he resists for maybe half a second. then his eyes flutter closed and he lean against you. his whole body goes limp, head resting heavy between your breasts, and you feel the exhaustion just hit him.
"you're so warm," he mumbles, voice already slurring.
"you need sleep."
"can't. case."
"tim."
"five more minutes."
you roll your eyes and shift so his face is pressed more into the softest part of your chest. his lips parted against the bare skin where your shirt dips low, and his breath is hot and slow.
he's not doing anything but enjoying the moment. but his body is responding anyway. you feel his shoulders tense, then relax. his hands come up and rest on your arms, holding you closer.
"y'know," he says, voice relaxed, "this is really nice."
"yeah?"
"yea..."
he turns his head, presses a kiss to the swell of your breast. then another. then his tongue darts out, just a little, tasting the salt on your skin.
"tim."
"mm?"
"thought you were working."
he pull his head away, looks up at you with his exhausted blue eyes, and there's something soft and a little drunk in his expression.
"changed my mind."
he pulls you around the chair and into his lap, and then his face is buried in your tits and he's groaning like he just found water in a desert. his mouth is everywhere. licking, sucking, kissing, biting. he's so sloppy. he's so cute.
"fuck," he whimpers against your nipple. "fuck, you're so hot."
he's not usually vocal. but he's so sleep deprived and overstimulated that his filter is gone. every thought just falls out of his mouth.
"could do this forever," he mumbles, switching to your other breast. "never leave. stay right here."
he's grinding up into the heat of your core without even realizing he's doing it. his hips move in slow weak circles.
"tim, baby, let me ride you," you whisper.
he shakes his head. "no. not yet. just—let me—"
he buries his face deeper, tongue flattening over your nipple, and groans like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.
"just let me be."
you let him.
DAMIAN WAYNE
damian hates vulnerability.
he is arrogance and precision and makes cutting remarks. he says "i don't need anyone" and "sentiment is weakness" and "tt" when he doesn't have a comeback.
but here's the thing, he's still learning what it means to want something soft.
and you're the softest thing he's ever touched.
the first time you pulled him into your chest, he froze. didn't know what to do with his hands, his face, his body. just stood there stiff as a board while you held him.
now he doesn't ask. but he... there...
you're reading on the couch and he sits down next to you. close. closer than necessary. his thigh presses against yours and he picks at the hem of his sleeve.
he's annoyed about something.
"damian."
"tt."
he won't even look at you.
"come here."
he moves fast. too fast.
so he was waiting for you to say it. alright.
and then he's pressed against you, face shoved into your chest, arms wrapped around your waist, and he's shaking. just a little.
"i had a difficult patrol," he mutters into your skin. like that explains everything.
but that's the closest he can get to saying i need you.
you wrap your arms around him and hold him tighter. his face is pressed right between your breasts, nose against your skin, and you feel his breathing even out. his hands curl into your shirt.
"you don't have to talk about it," you say softly.
"good." he pauses. "i don't want to."
and he doesn't pull away. if anything, he presses closer. and then his lips are moving against the swell of your breast. soft at first. like he's not sure he's allowed.
"damian."
"i'm not—" he cuts himself off, frustrated. "you smell good."
you bite back a smile. "so i've been told."
he huffs. but then his mouth is back on you, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses across your chest. he's not that practiced but he's eager. a little clumsy. he pulls your shirt down and stares at your bare breasts like he's never seen them before, even though he has. even though he's memorized every inch of you.
"you're beautiful," he says, so quiet you almost miss it.
then he latches onto your nipple and sucks, and it's like a dam breaks. his hands are everywhere. squeezing your other breast, gripping your hip, tugging at your clothes. he's making these sounds—soft, surprised little moans.
he's hard. pressing against you, twitching every time you gasp. but he doesn't move. doesn't ask for anything. just keeps his mouth on you. this is the only thing he wants in the world at the moment.
"dami fuck," you breathe, threading your fingers through his hair. "you're so good at this."
he makes a choked sound against your skin. his hips jerk. and when he pulls back, his face is red and his lips are wet and his eyes are wild.
"i am?" he asks, and there it is. the vulnerability. the need for approval he'd never admit to.
"yeah," you whisper. "you are."
he buries his face back in your chest. he doesn't want you to see the smile or the redness on his face.
of waiting to be consumed by you
ridiculously attractive things they do
including | dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne & roy harper
playing | the first taste- fiona apple
dick grayson- constantly shirtless
Somehow, he always finds an opportunity to take his shirt off whenever possible. He doesn’t do it to stroke his ego by showing his muscles and tan skin (well, maybe he wants to show off a little), but he just overheats way too easily, hence, removing the easiest thing he can get off his body.
It is definitely not uncommon to arrive at your apartment and find him just in sweatpants making dinner, or lounging around, or fixing his gear, or hanging out with his family. Matter of fact, everyone’s used to it already, so no one really bats an eye when Dick’s hands start to go towards the hem of his t-shirt.
He even has learnt tricks and some fancy ways to twirl his body around to make it sillier for those beside him, so at least they get a show of it. His favourite is a one-handed trick that left you completely flustered because he had one hand splayed on your waist while he pulled you to his chest, and with the other, he just took his shirt off with such ease that it almost made you stutter.
jason todd- casual dominance
He takes the lead everywhere he goes with such natural confidence that you just can’t help but ogle at him. There’s a fine line between being a gentleman and what he is, because the first one he considers basic common sense, but the latter is just how he has always been.
I’m talking about covering corners when you near one in the off chance you can get hurt, one hand always on your body when you’re outside, he doesn’t care if he’s holding your hand, you’re holding his arm or he places his in the small of your back. Replaces things for you before they run out, always assertive and direct with you in every context, he doesn’t play with you, ever.
Something he subconsciously started doing was speaking up in your place whenever you gave him “the look”, when everything is too much at the same time and you just want to go home but still have things to do. Ordering at a restaurant but you don’t really feel like talking? Consider it done. At a bookstore but you can’t find what you’re looking for? He’s asking the workers before you can finish your sentence. Jason often thinks he’s not the most incredible person ever, but he’ll always make sure to accommodate you to feel safe everywhere.
tim drake- pays attention
Tim stares A LOT, but not in a creep way, but rather in a “I’m trying to figure you out without you having to tell me” and he always guesses right. A slight change in your routine cannot go unnoticed if he’s nearby, and if he deems the situation appropriate, he’ll ask you about it, making sure everything’s okay.
“You have moved three times in 30 minutes since you sat down on the couch, is it that the cushions are too hard or that nasty fall on the staircases from Wednesday kicking your ass?” kinda observation. Very smooth with it too, since he doesn’t really bring things up until you find on your kitchen counter that one brand of tea you mentioned offhandedly months ago that your mom used to make you as a kid, and now you’re full-on sobbing because ??? how did he remember and where did he find them??
He likes paying attention to you, he finds comfort in being the one to know you best and learning what makes you be you. Long and deep conversations with each other is something you both cherish, but also knowing your body language, how you think and your passions makes him feel completely connected to you.
damian wayne- protective, not possessive
There’s something in the way Damian’s brain works that makes him want to protect intensely everything he loves, those being most of the time his family, the few material things the takes care of, and you. He doesn’t think of you as his or anyone’s for that matter, but that you and him belong together, and he isn’t shy when showing it.
This tendency of his is mostly shown because he cares, he cares so much that his family was confused at first because he’s usually grumpy and avoidant, but now, Damian clings to you the moments he’s with you. He often displays this as latching onto you and asking about you frequently, just enough to tread on the line between annoying and overbearing like “possessive insecure guys, which I’m clearly not” and protective and caring, always falling into the last category.
He likes when you go to him, doesn’t matter what for. A problem, a rant, a cuddle, or just his simple presence, he’s there for everything, holding onto them, protecting whatever you need him for.
roy harper- matches your freak
Roy’s up to do anything, he doesn’t really care if it’s embarrassing or loud, you tell him if he wants to do something and he’s up at 6 am the next day ready for it. You once confided in him that you felt a bit worried at times for being “too much” or “too weird” and even if he never thought of you like that, he spends every day proving that even if you feel that way, he’ll be by your side doing the same thing.
Tik tok trends, cringy dance moves in the kitchen, drunk confessions, not only he matches your freak, but he also corresponds it. Oh, you’re worried you talked a bit loud at the restaurant because you got too excited telling him the new game you’re playing? He’s screeching at the top of his lungs the next second because he thought he saw a bug, whoopsies.
It may feel incredibly silly to bystanders, but him being comfortable enough with you and himself to act that way is just to incredibly attractive that you even worry about yourself for finding that so hot. Meanwhile, Roy’s by your side with a Minecraft t-shirt waiting for you to come out of your thoughts to beat the ender dragon together.
IN WHICH... after a fight with your boyfriend, you force him to sleep with a pillow between you. here's how he handles it.
featuring: dick grayson, jason todd, bruce wayne, damian wayne, and tim drake.
warnings: fluff, crack, f!reader, established relationship (wife!reader for bruce, gf!reader for everyone else), EXTREME mommy kink!tim—dni if this is "too freaky" for you!!
inspired by this ask
dick grayson:
dick definitely would be upset and would try at least 3 times to ditch the pillow.
but each time he yanks the item from between you and tucks it under his head, you yank it right back and lodge it between your bodies.
he gives up on removing it after attempt #10.
you're turned on your side away from him, seeming way too unbothered for his liking. he's probably pissing you off even more, but attention from you is all he wants.
he pokes your shoulder repeatedly, arm draped over the barrier pillow. "baby, baby, baby, baby," he repeats with each poke.
he grins big and wide when you finally turn over your shoulder, glaring at him. "do i need to get a bigger pillow?" you scoff.
"no. this one's perfectly fine," he chirps. "though i'd prefer no pillow at all. i can't feel my baby up like this!"
you roll your eyes. "you don't deserve to feel me up, richard. go to sleep." you shuffle closer to the edge of the bed, juuust far enough that he can't reach you.
he groans dramatically, flopping down on his side with a huff. "fine, whatever. you don't love me, i get it. goodnight, i guess."
he falls asleep with a big, babyish pout on his face, his lip jutted out like a toddler's rather than a 20-something year old's.
his spirits are definitely raised in the morning, though, because he wakes up to his body being draped over the stupid pillow barrier, head nestled against your chest.
jason todd:
jason would take it much worse than dick. he'd feel personally offended, undoubtedly.
he'd glare daggers at the pillow separating his body from yours, wishing he could burn it to ashes with just his eyes. his arms are crossed over his beefy chest like a child told no to dessert.
finally, he tears his eyes from the pillow and onto your sweet body. your beautiful, worship-worthy body. "can i touch you yet?"
"no, jay! that's the whole point of the pillow. no cuddles allowed, i'm angry with you."
he grumbles. "no cuddles isn't the same as no touching. can't i at least hold your hand, ma?"
"no."
"ma, please?"
"jason peter," you snap, giving him the look. "i said no. goodnight."
his eyes remain trained to your back, watching it rise and fall as you breathe. "...night."
you feel much worse about how you spoke to him when you wake up the next morning. his side of the bed is cold, and the pillow in the middle looks as if it hadn't moved once since it was placed.
you get up, padding to the kitchen where jason is flipping pancakes at the stove. his shoulders are slumped, head swaying as if it's too heavy for his neck. he lets out a deep sigh. you frown.
your arms wrap around yourself as you approach. "jay?" you call softly, standing beside him at the stove. no touching, not yet. he doesn't look at you, so you tilt your head to get a look at his face and oh...
his eyelids droop with exhaustion, eyes a bit red from straining to stay awake. his under-eyes are dark bags. his lips are chapped. "baby? what's up with you?"
alas, he looks at you, his lips don't smile, eyes don't soften. he holds out your plate of pancakes and you accept it. "i did not sleep."
"...why?"
he looks at you as if it's obvious. "well, i did not have you to hold, and i can't guarantee your safety without holding you. i tried to sleep, but then i had a nightmare that i'd...lost you. every time i shut my eyes i saw the same thing as the dream. so, i decided to just stay awake."
you've never felt like a shittier person. you throw your arms around him, feeling him slump against you. you vow to never but him on a touch ban again, no matter how angry he makes you.
bruce wayne:
personally, i feel like bruce just...wouldn't even put up with it lol.
unlike how dick and jason kept the pillow and respected the rule (to an extent), bruce would just laugh in your face when he comes in for bed.
he stands at the foot of the bed, looking at your scowling face and the fluffy pillow at your side. "what's with the barrier?"
you huff. "no touching, bruce. i'm not in the mood."
he places his glass of water on his nightstand, casually crawling into bed and tossing the pillow across the room.
"bruce!" you glare, but you can't do much when he snakes his beefy arms around your waist and tugs you close until your back meets his chest. "i said no touch—"
"—i know what you said, darling. and—no offense—i don't give two fucks," he chuckles, the sound low and deep in your ear. fuck, why does he sound so good when you're so upset? "if i want to hold my wife, i'm going to hold my lovely wife."
you grumble, fighting his grip, but to no avail. "bruceeee," you groan.
"g'night, honey," he only croons, kissing your jawline so sweetly. "i love you."
moments of silence pass.
"i said i love you," he repeats, pinching your waist.
you squirm. "ughhhuh, i love you, too."
"good girl," he grins into your neck, holding you closer. "get some beauty sleep, i'll have alfred prepare you a spectacular breakfast tomorrow morning—y'know, as my apology."
true to his word, you wake up to his arms still locked around you like chains. however, the delectable scent of pancakes, waffles, berries and cream, eggs, and coffee wafts into the bedroom.
"ugh, i hate you, you promising, handsome bastard," you grumble, relaxing into his arms with the assumption that he's still sleeping. "i can never stay mad at you."
you feel lips curl into a grin against your shoulder. "yes, yes, you hate me," he mumbles sarcastically. "my wifey hates me and my lovely arms and the breakfast i make her."
"you didn't make anything. alfred made it."
"i made him make it. lovable by association, honey."
damian wayne:
when damian's told that you'd be sleeping with a pillow between you, your sweet baby's signature scowl is tainted with unshed tears. you feel bad, but your anger from the fight overpowers your remorse.
"a...pillow barrier?" he mumbles. "really, habibti?"
you nod. "a pillow barrier. i'm so upset with you, dami. i don't wanna cuddle."
he nods his head once. "i'll try to cope," he sighs, climbing into bed and throwing the covers over his head.
all of damian that shows is a little peek of jet-black hair from under the sheets. despite yourself, you have to bite back a smile. so cute.
"night, damian," you murmur.
his voice is muffled by the comforter. "goodnight, habibti. i love you oh so dearly, my world."
you're glad that he's hiding under the sheets, that way he can't see your grin breaks through—can't see your walls cracking. "i love you too, dami."
dami. the nickname makes your boyfriend smile. dami rather than damian, that's progress.
what you don't see is damian tossing and turning for hours until the clock strikes 2 am. he just can't sleep without his beloved woman in his arms, without your hair tickling his cheek as you drool into his neck.
so, he crawls out of bed and into the cool nighttime chill of the manor. if you won't cuddle him, he shall find a replacement. he returns to the bedroom a bit later with alfred the cat tucked under his arm and titus trailing lazily behind him.
he reunites with the warm blankets, holding alfred close under his chin. titus climbs into bed, sprawling comfortably over damian's legs.
you awaken the next morning the most adorable sight. your dami, arms (and legs) full of his cherished pets.
his hold on the cat is tight, the animal purring softly into damian's neck. titus has since inched his way up the bed, his head level with damian's—the dog is nearly spooning your boyfriend, doggy drool coating his sleep shirt.
well, at least he found a way to get his fix of drool and warmth. your walls finally crumble, and you reach over the pillow to stroke your knuckles against his cheek. that wakes him up.
he peels one eye open, grinning at the gooey look on your face. "what? i needed something to hold."
tim drake:
mommy kink!tim is activated almost instantly, and he tears each and every one of your walls down until you forget why you were even upset with him in the first place.
his face falls when you announce the pillow's presence. "what?!"
"you heard me, tim. pillow stays."
"no...no, no, no, no," he whines softly, feeling helpless. he tosses his phone haphazardly onto his nightstand, flopping onto the bed. "please, no."
you huff. "i'm upset, tim! i can't cuddle with you tonight, i just can't."
"mommy, please!" he begs pathetically, shoving the pillow out from where it's lodged between your bodies. he nuzzles up into your side instantly. his dark locks brush your cheek. "can't sleep without my mommy...need her to hold me, and love me, and tell me i'm a good boy."
you arch a brow. "but you're not a good boy."
he whimpers, eyes drilling shut in regret at your words. "o– okay, then to tell me i'm a bad boy. that i'm such a bad boy and don't deserve my mommy's affection."
"okay, fine. you're a ba—"
"—no! i change my mind. don't tell me any of those things," he whines, big blue eyes looking apologetically up at you through thick lashes. fuck, the eyes. "i'm so so so sorry, mama. i wasn't a good boy, but i can be! a good boy, that is."
you run a hand through his hair, and he whimpers—loud and desperate for more touch. "you promise you'll be good? you're not lying to mommy so she'll cuddle you?"
he keeps his eyes on yours, so melty and gentle. "i'd never lie to you, mommy. i swear."
"okay, then. if you say you can be a good boy, timmy, then i'll cuddle you tonight. but don't make me mad again, understand?"
"understand, mommy," he coos, smiling happily now that he's won you over. he snuggles into your chest, sighing contentedly. "thank you."
a/n: anyone peep the reference at the end of bruce's headcannons?🫣
When you woke up this morning, your body had been sore. Like you had been through the meat grinder kind of sore but in a good way.
You had looked over at Dick sleeping soundlessly. Half his body on top of you and half on the bed with his messy raven hair falling over his eyes, his long lashes almost brushing his sharp cheekbones.
Yeah, a very good way.
But when you got out of bed and basically limped around the apartment, he gave you the smuggest look ever. Seriously no one had ever looked as proud of themselves as he had.
You wanted to slap him. Or kiss him. You were still deciding.
That didn’t stop you for asking him for help though, since he had been the one to carry you around the apartment and draw you a warm bath. The shoulder massage he gave you in the bathtub wasn’t too bad either. Plus the pancakes he had prepared with a little smiley face on top with chocolate syrup.
But that didn’t take away from the fact that he was an unserious man.
He had known you were supposed to have lunch with your friends today so he had been an exceptional tease last night in bed. Not just a tease, he was also apparently under the impression that you were made of rubber and could bend you however he pleased.
Just because he worked out eight hours a day didn’t mean you did too. You’d be lucky to even squeeze in a workout once a week and he knew that and yet he chose to manhandle you.
Not that you were against it. He was very skilled in the bedroom and the nights where you had to just lay there for him to do all the work were your favourites.
But damn now you were limping on your way to meet your friends. You and Dick walked out of the car, hand in hand towards where your friends were sitting outside the cafe.
And he had the audacity to snicker.
“It isn’t funny!” You huffed out, hands clutching his arm to hold for balance since your legs were way too sore to even walk.
“You weren’t complaining last night,” he replied and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose, looking way too amused.
“Shut up,” you scoffed instead of replying since thats all you could do. He wasn’t wrong.
Once you reached the table, Donna, Wally and Roy immediately greeted you with hugs.
“You okay?” Donna was the first one to speak, noticing your limp.
“Yeah,” you swallowed and sat down on the chair next to Dick’s, shifting a little. “Just walked into a chair.”
“Uh huh,” Roy narrowed his eyes at Dick’s smug face.
“And was the chair named Dick Grayson?” Wally added.
“Wally!” You gasped and looked at Dick for help but he just laughed and draped his arm over the back of your chair.
The rest of the lunch went by with way too many jokes about Dick’s dick and you’d think he’d be offended by it but he was the one initiating most of them.
Like you said, unserious.
✶ JASON TODD
Jason was out running when you woke up. It was your usual morning routine –he woke up before you, gave you a small kiss on your forehead and left for a run then returned an hour later with coffee and sometimes pastries.
This time however, you had told him you were making pancakes so he wasn’t surprised to find you standing in the kitchen wearing his shirt that he discarded last night.
He walked over to you, black tank top clinging to his body due to the sweat like a second skin and if you weren’t sore from last night you would have done something about it.
The minimal clothing you were wearing –Jason’s t-shirt and panties– didn’t do a lot to hide the marks he had left on you last night. Your thighs looked like a crime scene with how many hickeys he had left there.
You waddled over to the fridge to grab the eggs when Jason noticed you.
“What’s up?” He frowned and came up behind you.
“Hmm?” You asked and cracked an egg in the bowl.
“You’re waddling like a penguin,” he pointed out.
“Oh,” you blushed and immediately looked away from him. “You know,” you shrugged.
“Babe what?” He asked and turned you around to steal all your attention.
“Last night,” you said. “You’re not exactly small.”
“Well thanks,” he gave you a confused smile. “Is that why you’re limping?”
“That and my legs being folded like a lawn chair over your shoulders for over an hour yes,” you quipped.
Jason in response let out a cackle.
“Great, hope you’re proud of yourself,” you scrunched your nose and turned back to prepare the pancake batter.
“I mean it does wonders to a guy’s ego,” Jason let out a dramatic breath. “Seven orgasms in one night is my new record.”
“Jason!” You huffed and pushed him away. “You cannot count my orgasms you freak.”
He laughed again and came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle before nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.
“Seriously though, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked, pressing fluttering kisses to the hickeys he had left on your neck.
“No,” you hummed and craned your head back.
“You liked it?”
“Yes,” you breathed as his kisses made their way down to your shoulders.
His fingers busied themselves with massaging your hips, causing you to close your eyes in relief and rest your head back on his shoulders. Which gave him even more room to kiss on your neck.
“Let me make you feel better,” he murmured and turned you around before getting down on his knees.
“Jason,” you said through a shaky breath.
“Yeah?” He looked up at you through dark eyelashes and hooked your thigh over his shoulder. “Is this okay?”
You nodded your head which was all the permission he needed.
It was going to be a long morning.
✶ TIM DRAKE
In hindsight, waiting for your boyfriend to return from his week long mission at the manor probably wasn’t your brightest idea.
He had texted you that he would be back today and would just crash at the manor instead of coming back to your shared penthouse.
But you hadn’t seen him in a week! So it was only fair you drove to the manor and let yourself into the batcave to wait for him.
It had almost been an hour since you made yourself at home on the little beanbag chair with a book in your hands in the Batcave along with Barbara who was perched at the Batcomputer, doing whatever it is that Oracle did.
Tim returned soon along with the rest of the Bats on his Batcycle (Batman wasn’t a very creative person you were beginning to realise).
Damian made a ‘TT’ sound at you before making his way towards the shower area.
Tim on the other hand broke out in a grin the second he looked at you. He didn’t even bother taking off his mask or the suit before he was launching himself at you on the beanbag.
“Tim!” You grunted when his armoured chest collided with yours. “You’re crushing me.”
“Don’t care,” he muttered and pushed his head in the crook of your neck.
“Take a shower you stink!” You said and pushed him off.
“I see how it is,” he raised his head to look at you and if you could see his eyes behind his domino mask, you knew he would be narrowing his eyes at you. “I come back a week later after saving the world and my girlfriend says I stink.”
“You do,” Jason mumbled somewhere behind him.
“Ignore him he’s jealous,” Tim said to you before leaning down to give you a fleeting kiss. “I’ll be back,” he murmured and finally got off the beanbag to go take a shower.
That had been enough of your loving and sweet boyfriend for the night.
Because he was soon coming out of the shower without a shirt and in only a pair of sweatpants. He didn’t even bothering talking to anyone or even debriefing the case like he usually did, he just made his way towards you and picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.
Thankfully everyone else was busy cleaning themselves and only Barbara was present in the Batcave. She shook her head at you like she knew exactly what was happening but didn’t want to be a part of it.
It had been a very long night.
The night for which you were paying now.
Tim’s heavy arm was thrown over your stomach in a tight grip like he never wanted to let you go.
Squinting open an eye, you flicked the bedside lamp on –having no clue what time it was outside due to the blackout curtains being drawn.
You turned over in Tim’s iron grip and looked around the room which looked like it had gotten robbed last night.
Your shirt was thrown on the floor along with your shorts, your bra dangling down the knob of the door –no clue how it got there. And your panties were probably torn in half somewhere. Even the pillows were thrown haphazardly, the covers weren’t even covering you.
Half the reason you woke up was the chill in the room causing goosebumps to rise on your naked body. The only source of heat you had was Tim’s equally as naked body wrapped around you like a koala.
You rubbed your eyes and tried to look at him. The first thing you saw were the red scratches on his chest, glowing against his pale skin and you were sure if he turned around his back would look the same.
“Tim?” You whispered and brushed his hair away from his face.
He only groaned in response and tugged you closer but his grip on your back was beginning to hurt.
“Hey,” you tried again and pushed at his shoulder –which you now saw had a bite mark on it.
Images of Tim’s bicep wrapped around your neck came to your mind but you quickly shook them off. Not the time.
“Tim come on, you’re hurting me,” you winced, which finally caught his attention.
“What?” He asked, voice laced with sleep and somehow deeper like you’ve never heard before. “Where are you hurt?”
“It just feels sore.”
“Fuck I’m so sorry,” he sat up straight in bed and leaned down to pull the covers up.
“It’s okay, you didn’t do anything I didn’t like,” you giggled when he turned around and yep his back looked every bit like his chest. Red scratches all over.
“Your back,” you whispered and reached out to lightly brush your hand over the marks. “What the fuck did we do last night?”
“I think I just missed you too much,” he chuckled. “Turn around let me give you a massage.”
“Yes please,” you moaned and turned around on your stomach to let Tim rub the soreness out of your muscles with his nimble fingers.
The knots in your muscles immediately came loose with each movement of his warm hands on your much colder body. Maybe they taught massaging the pain away at vigilante school or wherever Bruce took all the kids of his he seems to adopt.
His hands went lower to gently rest your calf over his shoulder –much gentler than last night. He pressed soft kisses to your leg as his fingers rubbed all the way to your ankles.
Later when you two went down for breakfast (it was around lunchtime), Cass and Damian gave you a disgusted look. Jason raised an eyebrow at the bite marks on Tim’s forearm while Dick only laughed in amusement. Even Barbara was staring at the hickey on your jaw since apparently Tim had forgotten he was human.
✶ BRUCE WAYNE
You were sitting on the chair in the little breakfast nook when Bruce entered the kitchen. A crossword puzzle was sat on the table next to a plate of toast and orange juice in front of you as you mindlessly scribbled on the puzzle.
Bruce came up behind you and gave you a little kiss on the back of your head before walking over to the cabinets to pull out a mug.
“Oh wait! I made you a yogurt bowl,” you said and hopped off the chair.
Bruce raised an eyebrow and watched you limping towards the fridge in nothing but his old uni sweatshirt. Your hair was falling over your shoulders, messy from a good night’s sleep. And other activities.
His eyes wandered lower to the backs of your knees where he was gripping your legs last night and sure enough there were marks to show it. For a second he was worried but when you turned around and gave him your million dollar smile, he forgot what he was thinking about.
“It has raspberries, nuts, pumpkin seeds, chia seeds. It’s good for your health,” you beamed and set it down in front of your own breakfast on the table.
Bruce joined you in a beat and eyed you as you grimaced a little while sitting down.
“Everything okay?” He asked.
“Yeah,” you said, voice a bit sarcastic which he didn’t miss.
“That’s not convincing,” he frowned.
“You rearranged my guts last night. I think that has something to do with me having trouble sitting down,” you smirked and he immediately blushed.
You heard a sudden noise from behind you and when you turned around to look, Tim was standing there, looking nauseated. “I’ll uh… have breakfast in my room…” he said.
“I didn’t know you stayed here last night,” you said to him.
“I wish I hadn’t,” he gagged and grabbed a cup of coffee before leaving the two of you alone.
Bruce scrunched his nose and turned his face towards his breakfast.
“Oh don’t go all shy now! You were very vocal last night,” you teased and nudged his foot with yours just to watch his ears turn even redder.
“I think we should take a warm bath together to you know, let our bodies heal,” he suggested.
“Uh huh,” you narrowed your eyes. “And no other reason at all.”
“Of course my darling,” Bruce smiled and tugged you out of your chair before picking you up in his arms.
“No other reason at all.”
my first multi part fic ever feeling nervous
didn’t know which photos to use so…
if you couldn’t tell i’ve been extremely tim drake pilled lately thanks to all the requests ive received for him 😭
likes comments and reblogs appreciated, hope you guys enjoy <3
Warning: no mentions of readers gender, batman slander? somewhat suggestive, everyone is of age.
You unknowingly praise their second identity in front of them.
Dick G.
You were sitting on your phone with your best friend, chatting about the latest catastrophes in Gotham when she brought up Nightwing.
"Oh girl, did you hear about the spotting of Nightwing last night? He was helping Batman and, oh my God, he looked sooo good," she giggled.
"Oh my—no I didn't. Send it to me, like, NOW."
You might have a slight crush on Nightwing from the one night he saved you from a drugged-up burglar. He carried your work bags and walked you home. Ever since then, you've fallen for him.
A smile took over your face as your phone dinged back to back with blurry pictures of Nightwing.
"OH MY GOSH! He looks so good, especially the last one. Very cinematic." You chuckled, referring to the photo of him standing on the ledge of a building, slightly looking back as the city lights illuminated his silhouette. He could star in a movie.
"God, I wish he'd come to Gotham all the time!"
"Whatcha lookin' at?" You jumped at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.
"Oh—uh, nothing. Just looking at some photos." You felt bad for lying.
"Hm. What photos?" He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, causing his shirt to rise and show off his V-line.
You swallowed thickly, eyeing him up and down. He was wearing gray sweats that hung too low and a black muscle tank he had cropped himself. Talk about an '80s heartthrob.
"It's just photos my friend sent." You could hear her giggling through the phone, saying something along the lines of, "You're in trouble."
"Shut up, I'll call you later." You quickly pressed the red button and locked your phone.
Dick approached the bed, plopping down beside you and resting on his forearm.
"Come on, show me… or you're gonna make me think you're doing something naaaughty." He sang the last word, tilting his head as he looked at you with those big doe eyes you adored so much.
You felt horrible finding another man attractive when you had such a caring, loving boyfriend right here. You pouted, looking down at your phone and then back at him. With a sigh, you turned your phone back on and showed him.
"We were talking about Nightwing and how… cute he is."
Dick examined the picture for a second before smirking. "Can't blame you. Dude's got killer quads."
Your eyes widened for a second. "Wait… you're not upset?" You eyed him suspiciously.
He scoffed out a laugh. "No. Why would I be? He's nice-looking. Plus, I got something he doesn't."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "What?"
"You." He swiftly sat up, yanking your thighs toward him and wrapping your legs around his torso. He leaned down, trapping you beneath him as he placed a hand beside your head. Your stomach immediately erupted with butterflies.
"No matter how many superheroes you have a crush on, I'll always have your heart."
He smiled, holding your chin in between his thumb and index finger.
"And you're just okay with this?"
He shrugged. "What can I do? You have eyes. Plus, I know you're loyal. It's like you liking one of those anime guys—it's just never going to happen."
You gasped, lightly hitting his chest. “Rude!”
He laughed, but something in his eyes told you he was holding back. You didn't know what it was, but you weren't going to worry about it.
Jason T.
You were watching the late-night news when a story about Red Hood popped up. He had saved the mayor from an assassination attempt. The news reporter stood outside the building where the crime had taken place, explaining how it all went down.
A moment later, they showed shaky phone footage of him carrying the mayor over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes while shooting at what you assumed were the bad guys.
You bit your bottom lip, holding back a smile.
“Mmm, what a man,” you whispered to yourself.
“What was that?”Your boyfriend peeked up from his book.
“Oh, uh… nothing. Just watching the news.” You cleared your throat and pointed to the TV.
“Hm.”
You avoided his gaze and continued watching.
“You… don’t like him, do you?” he asked, marking his page before closing the book. Heat rose up your neck and spread across your cheeks.
“No… maybe?” You winced, not wanting to look at him. “Okaaay! I do. He’s hot, and strong, and he’s for the people!”
Jason scoffed.
“I mean, this guy is like a tank.” He can take a hit and keep moving. I once saw a video of him take out ten drug dealers at once and just walk it off.”
Jason shook his head in disapproval.
“He’s a murderer. Trust me, there’s nothing to admire about him.”His body became tense, almost as if the more he thought about Red Hood, the angrier he got.
A deep silence fell over the room for a few seconds. You slouched into yourself with a frown.
“I-I wouldn’t say that, Jason…”
You continued, “Red Hood is a lifesaver. He fights for the little guys who can’t protect themselves. He might take lives, but what would you rather have—an innocent person dead or a psychotic human trafficker running around the streets?”
“And dare I say…” You covered your face with both hands like you’d just confessed to a crime. “…he’s better than Batman.”
Complete shock took over his face watching you hide behind your hands. Jason’s cheeks turned a dusty rose color.
“Wh-what?! You think Red Hood’s better than Batman?”
“Well, yes. He gets rid of the bad guys. Batman just puts them in jail—or barely that—and then they break out and repeat the cycle. Now, in no way, shape, or form am I saying murder is right. Absolutely not. BUT if it’s between a mom and her kids or a killer clown… kill the clown.”
Jason was stunned. He’d never heard you speak about a topic this adamantly before—not unless it was about one of those romance books you read or the political state of the world. But never about vigilantes or what people like to call anti-hero’s.
Honestly, he was kind of proud.
“I… for the first time in years, I’m speechless.” He admitted.
You shrugged and switched the TV over to Netflix.
“Well, that’s just my take on it. Don’t get too mad over it. I just prefer Red Hood over Batman.”
While you flipped through the menu looking for a movie, Jason hid a proud smile behind his hand. You had unknowingly made him fall for you even harder.
Tim D.
You and your boyfriend Tim were having your monthly shopping trip. He held your hand while carrying your bag in his other hand, while simultaneously being on his phone. You weren’t upset because you knew he was taking care of business.
You smiled happily swinging his hand back and forth looking into the shops as you passed by. One shop in particular caught your attention. You let out a gasp, dragging him behind you.
“Look Tim! It’s Red Robin plushies, oh my goodness.” You smiled gushing over the plushies on display in the window.
“Come, I want one!” You dragged your boyfriend into the shop. You were in awe they had all the justice league in plushie form, including Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin. Of course your favorite was Red Robin.
“Uh babe?”
“Hmm?” You asked looking at the wall of trinkets.
You browsed through the stickers, keychains, bracelets— they had so much stuff. You could spend a fortune in here.
“Just out of curiosity when did you start liking Red Robin?” He asked watching you be so giddy over the overpriced items.
“What do you mean silly I’ve always liked him— I oooh this one would go so well in my car! Imma hang it from the mirror.” You smile waving a tiny Red Robin symbol in his face.
“What do you mean, what do I mean? You’ve never mentioned this guy.”
You frowned. You looked up at nothing trying to remember if you mentioned him or not. You shrug, maybe you didn’t…oops.
“I swear i did, if I didn’t yes I like Red Robin. He’s such the hot nerdy type…kinda like you!”You smirked teasing him. Tim’s face grew a bright red.
“You think I’m hot? Wait— nerdy?!”
You shrugged, “well yes, you’re incredibly smart, very handsome, an extremely hard worker, you manage to remember things I’ve said only once…which is a bit scary but I kinda like it.”
“All the qualities I love in a guy, plus you have a killer physique. Definitely a sleeper build.” You smirked pecking his lips. He stood there stunned, like the first time you ever kissed him.
“Sleeper build?” He repeated your words as if it was a foreign language. If he wasn’t blushing he was blushing now.
You spent the last ten minutes collecting figurines, plushies and stickers of Red Robin and Tim happily paid for it all. The most eager he’s ever been to spend money.
“You actually like Red Robin? Not many people remember he’s even a Robin…” he trialed off with a long look in his eye.
“Of course I do, he’s very brave and smart. People pay more attention to Nightwing but I think he’s just as cool.”
Tim fell silent watching the road as he drove. It wasn’t an awkward silence just a comfortable one almost like he was thinking.
“You said I…had a killer physique?” He glanced at you then back at the road.
You kind of cringed at the word choice hearing it from him.
“maybe, why bring it up now?” You gave him a teasing look.
“Nothing…just wanna show you what it can do. If you allow me” he glanced over to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. You felt the car pick up speed, you let out a flustered giggle.
“You’re a mess Tim.”
Damian W.
You were lying on your boyfriend’s bed while he was immersed in his sketchbook. You were scrolling through Twitter when you pass a tweet posted by Gotham’s_Gossip, it was about Robin.
Robin saves civilians from The Riddler only for said civilians to still feel unsafe. A trash title paired with a blurry picture of Robin swinging from rooftops.
Out of curiosity you clicked the post to read to comments and to your surprise they were really mean.
‘Not surprised he’s rude.’
‘Believable. He saved me from a thief than told me I’m an idiot for being out late’
‘Boooo. Never liked him anyways. That can’t be the same robin batman had before, he was such a joy’
‘Lol why is this kinda funny’
You frowned scrolling further down and they all were hate comments.
“What incompetent people, they wouldn’t know a good hero if they smacked them in the face.” you mumbled spam reporting the post.
“What’s the matter?” Damians smooth voice drifted through the room.
You shut your phone off smacking it on the bed, “nothing its just…Gotham is so hard on Robin. He’s doing his best, all heroes don’t have to be all smiles and rainbows. The guy saved your life and you’re complaining? If I were him I’d let them get roughed up a bit before helping.”
Amused Damian’s lips held a slight smile.
“Beloved, why are you so adamant about defending Robin?”
You shrugged sitting up “I dunno, I always liked him I guess.” You whispered the last part hoping Damian didn’t hear but of course he heard.
Now intrigued he closed his sketchbook and sat up from his desk.
“You…like Robin?” He asked voice full of skepticism.
You contemplated on answering that question. Damian has always had a jealousy streak no matter how many times he denied it, you could always tell.
“Well yes” you answered carefully. “He’s very calculated, strong and incredibly smart when it comes to taking down bad guys bigger than him.”
Damians cocked an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t have to be like Superman. Smiling and taking photos, he’s already putting his life on the line to save the city the least they can do is say thank you geez. You don’t see Mary Sue going out at night with her child’s baseball bat beating up criminals do you?”
For some odd reason that got a small chuckle out of Damian. Maybe the thought of a middle aged mom with a bat sitting on rooftops waiting for criminals amused him.
You chuckled too imagining it.
“It is nothing to worry about, my heart. I’m sure those comments do not bother him. He seems very disciplined and couldn’t care less about what those people think.”
You snorted. “Well they should appreciate him more.”
Damian’s expression softened ever so slightly, “You speak as though you know him personally.”
“I don’t.” You quickly defended. “I just think people are unfair. Everyone praises Batman, but Robin is out there doing the same thing. He’s younger too. That has to be difficult, especially juggling his personal life along with being a vigilante.”
For a moment Damian simply stared at you. Difficult? Most people assumed Robin enjoyed the danger, the violence, the endless patrols. Very few stopped to consider the weight that came with the mantle.
“You think highly of him.”
You nodded “Someone has to, plus I think he’s kinda cute ” The answer came so quickly Damian almost choked on air.
You frowned looking at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying not to laugh ” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“I am just merely surprised that is all.” Damian leaned back against his chair. “Tell me. What else do you admire about this Robin?”
You groaned immediately. “See? This is why I didn’t want to answer.”
“Answer.” He pressed.
“You’re being weird about it.” You picked up a pillow throwing it at him, but he caught it effortlessly.
“And you are avoiding the question.” You narrowed your eyes before finally relenting.
“Fine. I think he’s brave.” Damian’s teasing expression faltered. “Brave?”
“Yeah. People hate him, criminals want him dead, reporters make fun of him, and he still goes out every night. I’d quit I don’t have time for all of that.”
A strange warmth settled in Damian’s chest. “You would quit?”
“Oh absolutely. Gotham would be on its own, good luck with fighting off alien and psychotic clowns.” That earned a genuine laugh from him.
You blinked shocked, Damian isn’t the type of person who laughs a lot. Especially not at your corny jokes “Wow. You’re really enjoying this conversation huh?”
He shrugged not hiding it, “Perhaps.”
You narrowed your eyes at him suspicious as to why this conversation amused him so much. “Should I be concerned?”
“No.” He simply answered but the smile never left his face.
You pointed accusingly at him. “You know, for someone who claims not to care about Robin, you’re awfully invested in hearing me compliment him.”
Damian nearly gave himself away. “Perhaps I simply have excellent taste in conversation.” With that he turned around opening his sketchbook once again.
You shrugged him off laying back down busying yourself on your phone.
Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne.
Synopsis: They are having a heated argument.
DICK GRAYSON
When his parents died, he grieved for a while, but eventually, he just... kept going. No regrets, no looking back.
He always managed to move on from bad things.
Or at least, that’s what he told himself while stuffing the candy you’d bought together onto the highest shelves — shoved all the way to the back where you wouldn’t notice them, even if you tried to reach.
That way, you’d have no choice but to talk to him.
He’d already lost count of how long you’d been ignoring him. The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn’t stand sleeping alone.
Not again.
After the fight, he’d said maybe the two of you should take a breather. Cool off before things got worse.
So when he came back later, apology already rehearsed in his head, breakfast tray balanced carefully in his hands, he walked into the bedroom almost excited.
What Dick hadn’t expected was for you to take his words that seriously.
When he said take a breather, he meant maybe thirty minutes. An hour, tops. Just enough time to calm down before saying something unforgivable.
Not... whatever this was.
Not you refusing to talk to him altogether. Not sleeping on opposite sides of the bed. Not acting like the two of you were suddenly strangers trying to rethink your entire relationship.
The breakfast went untouched.
So did the small pout on his face.
You didn’t even let him sit beside you when he tried to talk.
He ended up sleeping on the couch.
The next day was fucking miserable. His mood was awful, and everyone in the manor could feel it hanging in the air.
Grayson didn’t act like this. Even with his half-assed “I’m fine,” it was obvious he was anything but.
And when he finally got back to the apartment that night, exhausted and emotionally wrung out, he went straight for the bed, practically collapsing on top of you like he needed the contact to survive.
You pushed at him weakly, nowhere near as firmly as you had the past few days.
He let out this quiet, bitter little laugh but still refused to let go.
“Baby, stop,” he mumbled softly.
Even when you tried to shove him off again, he just held you tighter, burying his face against your neck like he was starving for you.
“Please,” he whispered, completely drained.
JASON TODD
Jason could be such a fucking asshole sometimes — selfish, cold, always running his mouth before thinking twice. It was easier for him to let people hate him than let them get close enough to actually understand him.
Not that he acted that way around kids or women. Around them, he kept himself restrained. Distant. But the second he felt cornered — exposed in any way — those sharp looks and cruel words came out like second nature.
A defense mechanism. The only one he’d ever really had.
You knew that.
You knew about his mother leaving him behind like he was nothing. Knew how, for one brief moment, Bruce Wayne had made him feel wanted — safe — only for Jason to end up feeling abandoned all over again.
Trust didn’t come easy to him. Neither did vulnerability. Loving you probably scared the hell out of him.
So instead of fighting back, you swallowed the hurt along with your pride. You waved your hand dismissively, avoiding his eyes as you muttered a quiet, “Forget it,” before turning around and walking away.
And somehow, that felt worse.
Jason swallowed thickly as he watched you leave.
You didn’t yell at him.
Didn’t demand an apology.
Didn’t ask him to take back a single thing he’d said.
You just… left.
Like you were tired.
After everything he’d thrown at you, all you wanted was for him to forget it.
But he couldn’t.
Because after that, something changed.
You still talked to him. Still answered when he spoke. But there was distance in you now — something careful, almost detached — and Jason noticed every second of it.
It made his chest ache.
And, if he was being honest, it scared him enough to make him paranoid.
TIM DRAKE
This time, the fight started over something stupid.
You’d turned off Tim’s alarm so he could finally rest on his day off. In your head, it was a small act of care — something gentle.
Tim didn’t see it that way.
He had deadlines, reports, a million things waiting for him, and when he woke up hours later, disoriented and exhausted, the soft good morning kisses you pressed against his face quickly turned into frustration.
“No, because this isn’t about whether I should rest or not,” he snapped, shoving himself out of bed. “It’s about the fact that you don’t get to interfere with my work. You don’t get to decide when I stop.”
You frowned, trying not to react to the sharpness in his voice. “Tim, you hadn’t slept in two days.”
“Yeah? And just because you don’t have the same responsibilities I do doesn’t mean you get to make choices for me.”
The words hit harder than he intended.
Your expression changed immediately. Hurt. Shocked.
“Tim.”
But he was already too angry, too exhausted, too worked up to stop himself.
“Mind your own business, and I’ll mind mine.”
And after that, neither of you were exactly kind to each other.
The argument ended with Tim slamming the front door hard enough to shake the walls.
The second he got into the car, regret settled heavy in his chest.
Because Tim overthought everything.
Every failed relationship. Every mistake. Every moment where he’d been too distant, too busy, too emotionally unavailable. The thought looped endlessly in his head until he felt sick with it.
You’re ruining this too.
You’re going to lose them too.
By the time he sat down in front of his computer, he couldn’t focus on a single thing. His leg bounced anxiously under the desk while his mind tortured him with scenario after scenario of you getting tired of him. Leaving him. Finding someone softer. Easier to love.
Someone better.
The anger faded quickly, leaving behind only exhaustion and this horrible, crushing sadness.
So when he finally came home hours later, all that was left of his pride was exhaustion.
Quietly, almost nervously, Tim slipped into bed beside you.
He turned toward you carefully, watching your face in the dim light for a second with this small, hopeful look in his eyes. Like maybe if he stayed close enough, you’d roll over and pull him into your arms. Maybe you could both pretend the fight never happened until morning.
But you didn’t move.
You just turned your back to him.
And suddenly the room felt unbearably cold.
Tim bit down hard on his lip the second he felt tears gathering in his eyes, embarrassed by how fast they came. Still, he couldn’t stop them. They slid silently down his cheeks while he stared at your back, trying not to make a sound.
When you still didn’t turn around, the quiet sniffles eventually broke into shaky, uneven crying.
Because that was the moment it really hit him.
You weren’t going to comfort him this time.
Please.
Please kiss his swollen eyes and tell him you’re still here.
DAMIAN WAYNE
To everyone’s surprise, Damian Wayne was actually a good boyfriend.
It sounded absurd to anyone who only knew him from a distance. With the way he carried himself — sharp tongue, permanent scowl, an attitude that pushed people away before they could even try getting close — nobody expected him to be soft with someone he loved.
But he was.
Painfully so.
Damian was romantic in a way that caught you off guard. Quietly sentimental. The kind who noticed insignificant details you'd mentioned months before.
There was something unbearably delicate hidden beneath all that hostility.
And little by little, you had managed to reach it.
You peeled back every layer he tried so desperately to hide behind until you finally touched the vulnerable parts of him nobody else got to see.
At first, it felt like a victory.
Like warmth blooming inside your chest.
Being trusted by Damian Wayne felt sacred. Intimate. You thought you understood him now — the things he feared, the things he buried, the things he struggled to say out loud.
You were wrong.
Because somehow, Damian always found a way to shut you back out again.
One wrong moment, one careless outburst, and suddenly every wall you thought you’d broken down was standing taller than before.
You pressed your lips together tightly, forcing yourself not to say something impulsive.
The silence in his bedroom felt horrible.
Cold.
Suffocating.
“What’s wrong, Damian?”
He didn’t answer.
“Damian,” you tried again, irritation slipping into your voice this time.
The entire day had been fine. More than fine, actually. He’d left his classes early just to spend time with you. You’d gone out to eat together, watched a movie back at the manor, stayed curled up against each other for hours.
And then suddenly he changed.
Short answers.
Dismissive looks.
Ignoring you whenever you spoke.
The worst part was that he’d done it in front of your friends.
Having your boyfriend act cold and irritated toward you in front of your classmates was humiliating.
“I already told you. Nothing.”
“Then why are you talking to me like this?” you asked, frustration finally bubbling over. “If something upset you, how am I supposed to fix it if you won’t talk to me? We’re together, Damian. We’re supposed to work things out.”
He laughed quietly under his breath, but there was nothing amused about it.
“God, you’re irritating.”
You stared at him silently.
And there it was again.
That look.
Distant. Closed off. Like he’d shoved you outside the walls all over again.
“Do you genuinely believe something is wrong with me?” he asked mockingly. “I have far more important matters to deal with.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“Fine.”
The second the word left your mouth, Damian hesitated.
Barely.
But you noticed it.
“What?” you asked flatly.
You grabbed your backpack from the floor and walked toward the door of his room.
Damian watched you the entire time without speaking.
Because what was he supposed to say?
That he hated how your friends interrupted the date the second things started feeling intimate? That it bothered him watching you laugh with them while he sat there feeling invisible? That he’d wanted your attention to himself for once?
It was supposed to be his time with you.
His moment.
The bedroom door shut softly behind you.
And suddenly the room felt unbearably empty.
Damian sat down at the edge of the bed slowly, his chest tightening with every passing second until it became difficult to breathe. His eyes burned.
You hadn’t even tried to stop him from pushing you away this time.
You just left.
Eventually, he collapsed face-first onto the mattress, burying himself beneath the blankets like hiding would somehow make the ache in his chest disappear.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there.
Minutes.
Maybe hours.
At some point, he grabbed his phone.
Your chat was still open.
Damian stared at your contact silently while his thumb hovered over the call button. His stomach twisted painfully with nerves.
Call them.
Don’t call them.
Call them.
Before he could think too hard about it, he pressed the button.
The ringing nearly made him sick.
Once.
Twice.
By the third ring, you answered.
“Hello?”
Damian froze.
Your voice was soft. Careful.
And suddenly, all at once, the anger drained out of him, leaving behind nothing but this awful ache in his chest.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Because right then, curled up alone in his bed with tears stinging his eyes, Damian could only think one thing:
Who was he without you?
BRUCE WAYNE
Why are you arguing with this man? Leave the old man alone; he has enough problems already.
• I admit it, I just wanted to write about Tim being a whiny crybaby. oc tim (?
Also, as you know, I don't speak English and it's translated thanks to technology :) I've had this in drafts for months ()
