THE CRYING CHRONICLES
CHARACTERS: DICK GRAYSON, WALLY WEST, JASON TODD, ROY HARPER, TIM DRAKE.
Summary: You cry over something super ridiculous that doesn’t need crying over.
Warnings and tags: kinda ooc, slice of life, reader is just emotional
A/n: does anyone else genuinely cry over tiny things or is it just me? Idk I just cry over every little thing. Can’t find my shoes? I’ll cry about it. Lose my lipgloss? I’ll cry about it. I think I need mental help. I have a part two with Hal, Bruce, Conner, Clark, and Duke. If this does okay I’ll post it as well!!
DICK GRAYSON — Spoiler alert!!!
“Baby, I’m homeee,” Dick’s voice calls in a singsong voice, “Patrol was actually insane tonight. It was one of the rare occasions Jason joined us and to my luck, Tim was there too. Anyways, when we got back to Wayne manor, Tim thought it would be a good idea to—”
He pauses and frowns when he realizes that you aren’t listening. Settling down his keys on the counter, he reached for the fridge door.
“Okay, well, since I need to talk about it anyways, I’ll just pretend like you’re listening. Right, so Tim thought it would be a good idea to leave yellow graffiti cans on the ground, which— what the fuck does he need yellow graffiti cans for— anyways, said graffiti cans exploded when Alfred ran them over, and ended up turning Jason’s bike yellow. Which sort of ruins the whole concept of Red Hood and makes the whole thing just go off vibe. So then, Jason—”
He was only halfway done pouring orange juice into his glass when he heard a quiet sniffle coming from the living room.
“Baby?” He asks with concern, before dropping the glass on the counter and moving to the living room.
You’re curled into the couch and the tv is paused mid-scene. The room is dim and dark except for the glow of the screen, and your face isn’t visible— because you’re crying into a pillow. It’s suffocating and your cries are muffled, but for some reason it feels better than crying in the open. Dick moves towards you slowly.
“Hey sweetie,” he starts, crouching beside the couch.
You finally lift your face from the pillow, and the moment he sees you, his expression drops with concern. The sight of you makes his chest tighten; tears have soaked into the fabric beneath your cheek, leaving your skin flushed and damp, lashes clumped together with lingering tears that still cling stubbornly to the corners of your eyes.
His hand comes up automatically, brushing damp hair away from your face, his brows pinching together as he looks at you.
"What happened?"
You hesitate— how could you tell Dick that you were crying this much over something utterly ridiculous? When you finally speak, it comes out small and embarrassed.
“I spoiled it.”
He sits closely beside you and the couch dips a little more.
“The show?” he asks.
You nod once, eyes flicking to the paused screen in frustration.
“It was the ending,” you say after a second, voice catching slightly. “I didn’t even mean to see it. I was avoiding it for so long. And I’m just sad that I’ll never get to experience it properly now. Like ever. It’s just ruined. Forever.”
It’s quiet now, and you feel even more embarrassed. Really? What are you, 5 years old? Who cries over a show— and not even because the ending was sad, but because they spoiled the ending?
“Oh,” he says eventually, “That really sucks.”
You wipe at your face quickly, annoyed at yourself for it.
“It feels stupid,” you admit. “It’s just a show.”
Dick shifts a little closer, shoulder almost brushing yours, “okay, well then, you just have to spoil it for me too— and then we’ll watch it together. Then it’s ruined for both of us.”
You finally laugh, “that’s ridiculous.”
“No it’s not,” Dick frowns, “Cmon, that way you won’t be alone! And ruining it for someone else might help you take your frustration out, how about that?”
You hesitate for a second before telling Dick everything, and he listens intently to it all, and even searches up some extra details to ruin it even more for himself. The rest of the night is a lot more comforting than your miserable evening. Dick made hot cocoa, and after the two of you finished the show, you decided to rewatch Home Alone. Christmas was months away, but holiday films always lift everyone’s spirits.
WALLY WEST — A VANILLA CUPCAKE? THE AUDACITY!!
When Wally walks into the kitchen and sees you, standing at the counter, completely absorbed in whatever is sitting in front of you, his first instinct is to smile. You look cute. Cute enough that he immediately abandons whatever thought he was having and makes a beeline for you instead.
"Hi, baby."
The greeting comes out half muffled against your hair as he leans in, pressing a kiss against the side of your head, then another against your temple, an arm already wrapping loosely around your waist. Usually you'd laugh, or lean into him, or complain about his clinginess while trying not to smile. Instead, he feels you stiffen, and pulls back immediately. His stomach drops.
"Sweetheart?"
You turn around.The second he sees your face, every coherent thought leaves his brain. Your eyes are glassy with tears, lashes damp and clumped together. Your cheeks are flushed, tear tracks still visible against your skin despite however many times you've clearly tried to wipe them away. Your bottom lip trembles slightly before you bite down on it, like you're trying very hard not to cry any harder than you already have. Wally's heart sinks, immediately.
"Hey, hey, hey," he says softly, both hands finding your arms. "What's wrong?"
You pause. “It’s vanilla”
He frowns with confusion, “vanilla?”
You nod, “It’s— it’s vanilla.”
When he still looks confused, you point to a small box of cupcakes on the side.
“I know it’s stupid, I mean who cries over cupcakes?” You say,”it’s just that— I wanted strawberry cupcakes, so I door dashed them this morning, but an hour later they said they ran out. So then I went to this other bakery that was half an hour away and when I got there they said they removed strawberry cupcakes off the menu. So then I went to a local bakery and they accidentally gave me chocolate first, so I corrected them and they still messed it up and now—“
You sniffle and sigh, “Now I’m stuck with these.”
You went to three bakeries?"
You nod miserably.
"Three."
"And you didn't think to call me?"
You blink.
"What?"
Wally looks genuinely baffled.
"Why didn't you call me?"
A small laugh escapes you.
"Uh cause like it’s a cupcake? What am I supposed to say ‘Wally can you drop all your superhero business and bring me some cupcakes?’."
“Yes.”
“Wally.” You roll your eyes.
"I'm serious."
“You’re being dumb.”
His hands settle on your arms.
"But you still should've called me."
Before you can answer, Wally presses a quick kiss to your forehead. Then he disappears, like, literally— one second he’s standing next to you and the next? He’s vanished. .
You blink.
"...Wally?"
Nothing. The kitchen remains empty. You stare at the space where he was standing. Less than ten seconds later, a gust of wind rushes through the room and Wally reappears. And in his hand is a strawberry cupcake.
JASON TODD — stupid pigeon
Jason spots you sitting on the bench before you even turn toward him. You’re angled inward, hands tucked in your sleeves, watching the ground as tears drop from your eyes and hit the concrete. His stomach immediately drops and he inches closer towards you with concern.
“What happened?” he asks.
You point slightly at a small figure a little close ahead. Jason directs his gaze to follow your finger, and it lands on a pigeon a few feet away, pecking at the ground stupidly.
“I tried to feed it,” you say quietly, “and it didn’t want to eat. So then I thought, ‘hey maybe it’s just not hungry’, but guess what? Some other woman gave it bread, and it ate it willingly. Which means I’m the problem.”
Jason stares at the pigeon for a moment before looking back at you, his eyebrows slowly pulling together as he tries to process what he's hearing. The pigeon, completely unaware that it's currently being discussed, continues pecking at the pavement without a single thought behind its eyes.
"That one?" he asks, pointing at it.
You nod miserably, already feeling ridiculous all over again now that you've said it out loud. Who cries because a bird didn’t want to eat the food they gave them?
Jason squints.
"That's the bird we're talking about?"
"Jason."
"No, because now that I'm looking at him properly, I think this might actually be the bird's fault. I mean look at it— were his parents siblings or something? Why the fuck does he look like that? "
Despite the tears still clinging to your lashes, you let out a small, disbelieving laugh.
"It’s not the bird's fault."
"I don't know," Jason says, leaning back against the bench. "Look at him. He looks rude."
You wipe at your face, shaking your head.
"He doesn't look rude. I wanted to feed him because he looks sweet.”
"He absolutely looks rude. Look at the way he's walking around."
He indicates to the pigeon, who’s waddling to the left of a garbage bin now.
Jason watches it with visible suspicion.
"See? He obviously thinks he’s the Jacob Elordi of pigeons or some shit."
Another laugh escapes you before you can stop it and the tightness in Jason’s chest eases slightly. when he'd first seen you sitting here, tears dropping onto the concrete while you stared at the ground like your heart had genuinely been broken, he'd thought something terrible had happened. For a second, he'd been preparing himself for a family emergency, a horrible phone call, bad news—something. Instead he'd found you devastated over a pigeon. An annoying, ugly, self-entitled, bratty pigeon who lacked common manners, to precise. It was quite frankly ridiculous.
"Listen," he says, nudging your knee lightly with his. "If that bird looked at you and decided not to take the food, that's a reflection of his character, not yours."
You groan and bury your face in your hands. Was he seriously lecturing you about a pigeon’s character?
"You're making this worse."
“Im serious,” Jason continues, “I dunno if his parents left him when he was younger or what, but he has serious issues. Or maybe his girlfriend’s cheating or sum shit. Or maybe he got caught cheating. He looks like he has serious commitment issues. Can’t hang around any good people cause they’ll have a good influence on him.”
By now you're trying and failing not to smile, and Jason decides that's enough. He settles back against the bench, satisfied with the progress, while the pigeon continues wandering around several feet away.
"Besides," he adds after a moment, glancing toward it again, "that thing probably eats cigarette butts. I wouldn't take its opinion too seriously."
ROY HARPER — STUPID SANDWICH
Roy finds you in the kitchen with your back turned toward him, standing so still that he notices something is wrong almost immediately. At first, he assumes you're concentrating on whatever's sitting on the counter in front of you. Then you swipe at your face, and his stomach drops.
"Baby?"
You don't answer right away. Roy is already moving closer when you finally turn around, and the second he sees your face, he knows something has upset you. Your eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, and there's a look of pure embarrassment mixed in with the sadness, like you're already ashamed of whatever explanation you're about to give him.
"What happened?" he asks gently.
You point toward the plate on the counter. Roy follows your finger and immediately finds himself staring at a grilled cheese sandwich. He looks at the sandwich and then at you and then back at the sandwich.
"...Am I missing something?"
A miserable sound leaves your throat.
"It folded."
Roy looks down again. The grilled cheese has partially collapsed on itself. One side slid when you transferred it from the pan, leaving the bread tilted slightly and the cheese hanging awkwardly out the side. He stares at it for another second before looking back at you.
You groan.
"I know."
"No, hold on."
"It's stupid."
"Maybe."
You stare at him.
"Well, that’s not what you’re supposed to say.."
"But I still need context." I can’t say crying over a sandwich isn’t dumb unless I have context.”
Despite yourself, a small laugh slips out.
"What happened?"
You lean against the counter and sigh.
"It took me forever to make. I burned the first one, then I dropped the spatula along with the next sandwich on my fucking foot, then I had to start over, and this one was finally perfect." Your eyes drift back toward the plate. "Then it folded."
For a moment, Roy just looks at you and suddenly he understands. It's not really about the grilled cheese is it? . It's about the first grilled cheese and the spatula but also whatever kind of day leaves a person one bad sandwich away from tears.
Without warning, he reaches forward and picks the sandwich up off the plate.
You blink.
"What are you doing?"
Roy turns it slightly, studying it from different angles like he's conducting some serious investigation. His eyebrows slowly pull together.
"This is bad."
You stare.
"What?"
Roy nods solemnly.
"This is such a tragedy."
He emphasizes the word ‘such’ just like you do when you’re yapping to him about something. He even threw his head back a little. A laugh escapes you throat, and Roy continues to stay in character. His expression would make someone think he’s at a funeral.
"Roy."
"No, seriously."
He points at the sandwich, wagging his finger around.
"Look at him."
"Him?"
"He fought so hard."
You cover your face with secondhand embarrassment, then drop your hands after realizing you were the one who was crying over this same sandwich less than five minutes ago.
"Roy."
"I mean, his father got burned."
You can hear him trying not to laugh.
"Roy."
"His brother fell, along with that nasty ass spatula."
Your shoulders are already starting to shake with laughter.
"But he made it.."
"Oh my God Roy, stop it”
Roy shakes his head sadly while continuing to inspect the sandwich, trying to stay in character.
"And after all that, you had the audacity to judge him?"
A laugh bursts out before you can stop it, and suddenly you're laughing even harder than you were crying earlier. Emotions work in funny ways. One second you’re crying and the next you forget what you’re crying over. Roy grins immediately, relief washing across his face at the sound.
"Finally, oh my goodness,” he smirks, “yknow how hard I had to stay in character just so you would laugh?”
You point at him accusingly.
"You are sooooo annoying."
"No, I’m not? You’re the one laughing at my jokes. So, if I’m annoying, then you’re annoying for laughing at an annoying person's jokes. Annoying, annoying, woah it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore."
You roll your eyes, but you're still laughing. You now understand why Dick hates third wheeling with the two of you, Roy is right. You’re both super obnoxiously annoying, but hey, at least you’re annoying together!!!! He’s also correct about annoying not sounding like a word anymore. Roy looks back down at the sandwich one final time before giving a disappointed shake of his head.
"Honestly, I don't think he'll ever recover from this."
"Stop."
"I'm just being realistic.hes gonna get eaten anyways?”
"Okay wait— how do you know it’s a guy?”
Roy pauses, deep in thought, “because no matter what, the woman is always right. Only a guy sandwich could be screwed up this bad.”
Another laugh escapes you.
Roy looks unbearably pleased with himself and then, before you can stop him, he takes a bite.
You gasp. "Hey!"
He points at you while chewing.
"See? Delicious."
"That was mine."
Roy shrugs.
"Our sandwich."
You groan loudly and shove his shoulder.
He just laughs and takes another bite anyway.
TIM DRAKE — MISSING FANFIC ALERT!!!
a/n so, like a week ago yours truly did cry over a fanfic she couldn’t find and it’s still missing. I’m gonna feel like a piece of me is missing for the rest of my life. Fuck u tumblr.
Tim lets himself in quietly, expecting the usual sounds that mean you’re home. He waits for you to yell at him to come give you a kiss, he waits for you to jump into his arms, but neither of his two favorite things happen. When he looks up properly, he sees you curled into your desk chair, knees pulled to your chest, face buried in your arms, shoulders shaking in uneven little breaths that don’t quite settle and his chest tightens immediately. He’s across the room in seconds, worry flooding his brain.
“Hey,” he says.
You shift when you hear him, just enough to lift your head, and the moment he sees your face, his expression changes. Your cheeks are damp, lashes stuck together, eyes red and swollen from crying long enough that it’s started to feel like a headache. There’s a mess of wiped tears on your sleeve, and you look immediately embarrassed to be seen like this— which you are. Because you’re crying over the most utterly ridiculous thing of all time. Tim stops beside you.
“What happened?”
You shake your head.
“It’s stupid.”
He doesn’t move, he just stands there waiting for you to tell him what went wrong, so he can fix it immediately.
“My tabs are gone,” you say quietly.
Tim blinks. “Gone?”
“My browser crashed,” you add, voice catching. “Everything disappeared. I checked history, everything. It’s not there. And I know it’s a stupid to cry about, but everything’s already just so frustrating yknow? Like nothings going right today. And then this happens. I had 97 tabs Tim!! 97!!! And now they’re all gone. And I had a bunch of important stuff saved, recipes, articles and it all just vanished.”
Your fingers twist in your sleeve.
“And uh there was a fanfic,” you admit after a second, quieter now. “And I can’t find it again. I don’t remember the title or the author or anything. I just remember reading it and now it’s gone. And I just wanted to know how it ended and now it’s too late.”
A shaky breath slips out of you.
“It sounds so stupid,” you mumble, “who cries over losing some dumb fanfic?”
Tim looks at you for a moment, then crouches beside your chair, hugging your waist.
“It’s not stupid,” he says.
You let out a humorless little breath. “It is. It’s just a fic.”
His gaze flicks once to your laptop, then back to you.
“You’re upset,” he says, “therefore it’s not stupid.”
“I’m crying over a stupid fanfic,” you mutter, “and it isn’t canon.”
Then Tim quietly reaches for your laptop.
You hesitate, but you don’t stop him.
He opens it, already moving through everything with a focus that settles the room in a different way. History. Nothing. Tabs. Nothing. Search. Nothing. Your stomach sinks a little more each time the screen refuses to give anything back. Then you quietly kick yourself for still feeling sad over such a little thing.
After a few minutes, you slump slightly.
“I told you,” you say quietly. “It’s gone.”
Tim doesn’t answer right away. He just leans back slightly, thinking, then turns his attention to you.
“Say what you remember,” he says.
You do, reluctantly.
A line. Then another piece. Something about tone, something about the characters. Tim nods once and goes back to typing. You watch him for a while, still sniffling, still wiping at your face every so often, the embarrassment sitting heavy in your chest because this is ridiculous. It’s just a piece of fan fiction. You know it is. You know normal people don’t usually cry over lost internet stories like this.
The absurdity finally catches up to you properly. A laugh slips out and you cover your face.
“This is so embarrassing,” you mutter, but it comes out halfway into another laugh.
Tim glances at you. The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, but he doesn’t comment.You shake your head, still laughing under your breath now.
“I’m actually crying over a fanfiction. I’m genuinely mortified.”
“You were upset,” Tim says simply, still typing.
“That doesn’t make it less insane,” you reply, wiping at your cheeks again, but your voice has softened now.
A few more clicks and then he stops and turns the laptop slightly toward you and… it’s there. The fanfic is fully open, as if it didn’t just cause you to have a complete meltdown.
“…No way,” you whisper.
Tim just shrugs slightly. “You remembered enough.”
Another laugh slips out of you, this one more real.
“You’re unreal,” you say, still staring at the screen.
“Mm.”
You lean back in your chair, laughing at the absurdity. Tim closes the laptop gently, and you reach for him, tugging at his sleeve, indicating that he should sit next to you. When you’re both settled into the chair, he looks at you for a second before letting you sprawl over him and rest your head in the curve of his neck. His hand settles at your back, and the two of you just sit there.
Okay so I sincerely apologize for barely posting, but I swear I’ll post more now!! Also omg 350 followers already?! That’s insane omg. Ily all so much 🥹😋💗
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