will you please do a Tim drake x reader fic 🥺 lots of fluff please 😁 something about him caring for reader who doesn’t take care of themselves
💕You before me💕
Word count: 840
Warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff, reader not fully taking care of themselves, not the that much lol, Tim being Tim
You hadn’t meant to let things get this bad. It was supposed to be just one late night. One skipped meal. One day where you told yourself you’d shower tomorrow, you’d eat later, you’d rest once you got “just a little more done.”
But Tim knew the signs too well. He’d lived them.
And the moment he walked into the apartment and saw you slumped on the couch, laptop open on a blank document, he felt his chest twist.
He set his bag down by the door with a quiet thump. “Sweetheart.” he said gently.
You flinched, head snapping up, eyes tired. You hadn’t even heard him come in.
Tim crossed the room and crouched in front of you, scanning your face like he was cataloging every detail. “How long have you been sitting here?”
You shrugged, eyes darting away. “A while.”
His brow furrowed. “Did you eat today?”
That made your stomach clench. You tried to brush him off with a weak smile. “I’m fine. Just… busy.”
Tim let out a soft, tired laugh, but it wasn’t amused. “You sound just like me.”
---
Before you could argue, he stood and headed toward the kitchen. You frowned, moving a bit on the couch. “Tim? What are you—”
“Cooking!” he called over his shoulder, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie. “And you’re not allowed to move until I’m finished!”
You blinked. “You can’t cook.”
“I can… improvise” he shot back, already opening the fridge. “Don’t underestimate me. The Wayne’s are known for a lot more then money y’know, they know how to cook too”
You chuckled to your self. You knew it was a lie, whenever you’d visit anyone at Wayne manor they didn’t know how to do one thing in the kitchen; except for Alfred.
---
The sound of pans clattering filled the apartment, followed by the faint hum of music from his phone.
You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself and, for the first time all day, allowed your body to sink into the cushions. You could hear him muttering to himself, debating pasta versus rice, trying to find the right spices, and yes, mumbling about how garlic bread was non negotiable.
The smell hit you before he returned, warm, buttery, with the tang of tomatoes simmering in a pan.
When Tim finally emerged, he carried two plates balanced carefully in his hands, a proud smile tugging at his lips.
“Voilà” he said, setting a plate in your lap.
“Homemade pasta and garlic bread. Don’t ask how long it took, just… eat.”

You stared at the food, then at him. “Tim…”
“No excuses” he interrupted, flopping down beside you. “First bite’s on me.” He twirled some pasta on a fork, holding it out expectantly.
Rolling your eyes, you leaned forward, and the flavor was surprisingly good. You raised a brow. “Okay, chef. Not bad.”
He grinned, visibly relieved. “Told you I could handle it.”
---
For a few quiet minutes, the only sound was forks scraping against plates.
Tim kept sneaking glances at you, and every time he caught you actually eating, his shoulders relaxed just a little more.
When you finished, he didn’t even bother putting the dishes away, just abandoned them in the sink and returned to the couch with you. He pulled the blanket over both of you, tugging you against his chest.
“See?”he murmured into your hair. “You’re human. You need food, rest, and care.”
You let out a quiet huff. “So do you.”
He chuckled softly, kissing the top of your head. “Yeah, but right now this isn’t about me. Let me do this for you, okay?”
Something about the way he said it made your throat tighten. It wasn’t pity in his voice, just sincerity. Love, plain and simple. You melted against him, resting your ear over his heartbeat.
Tim shifted, pulling the blanket tighter around you, his fingers idly tracing circles along your arm.
His voice was low, careful, like he was afraid of shattering the fragile peace. “You don’t have to carry everything alone. Not when I’m right here.”
Your eyes stung, but you nodded into his chest. “Okay.”
For once, you let someone else take the weight.
Tim smiled softly, brushing a kiss into your hair before leaning back against the couch. “Good. That’s all I wanted to hear.”
It wasn’t long before his own exhaustion caught up with him. His hand slowed in your hair, his breathing evened out, and soon enough he was asleep, lips still curved in a faint smile.
You tilted your head to look at him, his lashes brushing his cheeks, the faint shadows under his eyes, the peacefulness he almost never allowed himself.
He’d gone to all this trouble, just to make sure you were cared for.
Curling closer, you whispered, “Thank you, Tim,” even though he was already lost to sleep.
And for the first time in days, you felt safe enough to let yourself rest too.
———
SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I’VE BEEN BUSY😔😔
I HOPE U LIKE ITTT
