batboys x anxious reader who subconsciously grabs his bicep/elbow in public cause she needs something to hold onto and needs to be close to them in public because “what if…” ykwim? idk i struggle w anxiety and i do this all the time😓😓
comfort grabs
SUMMARY: how i think each batboy would react to their lady holding him for comfort!
featuring... dick grayson, jason todd, bruce wayne, and damian wayne
warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort if u squint, f!reader, established relationships (gf for everyone but wife for bruce—that man is too grown to have a gf), reader has anxiety duh, reader eats chicken at raising canes (pretend that exists in gotham idfk), pet names
wc: 1.07k
dick grayson:
You and Dick are weaving through Gotham's busy streets, headed back to your apartment after visiting the coffee shop downtown you'd been begging your boyfriend to try.
You're trying to have a nice time—a peaceful, hand-in-hand walk with your lover—but you just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.
There's too many people, too many men eyeing your purse like they're going to rip it off your shoulder at any moment. You don't like it, not one bit. The intense pounding of your heart in your chest and the ringing in your ears isn't helping either.
So, instinctively, you tighten your grip on Dick's hand and bring your other to the crook of his elbow, holding him there. Finally, he glances down at you, smiling softly. "You good?" he murmurs, voice low in your ear so only you can hear it over the bustle of Gotham.
You nod, squeezing his bicep. Your heart slows, head clearing. You're suddenly able to get more air into your lungs now that you're close to him. Surely, with big, tall Dick Grayson this close to you, nobody will hurt you—he'll protect you, you're certain of it.
"I'm good," you reply finally, lengthening your strides to keep up with his long legs. "Let's just get home, please."
Wordlessly, he guides you through the crowd. Once things are less crowded and he can slow his pace, he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, petting your hair in a soothing motion. "You're okay," he assures you. "I've got you, baby."
jason todd:
"Jay…?" Your voice is small and shaky. You know he's probably sick of you—you've been glued to his side all throughout Bruce's gala, too afraid to go talk alone with a bunch of rich socialites that you don't know.
He glances over at you, pulling away from his conversation with Dick. "Hi, doll. What do ya need?" he asks gently, one large hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face.
"I need to go to the bathroom, but it's all the way across the room and—"
"—you want me to walk you," he concludes, knowing you far too well. "Sure, ma. Let's go."
He sets his drink down, trusting his brother to watch it, and begins the walk to the restrooms. You follow, reaching out to curl your fingers around his bicep. He slows his steps, letting you hold on comfortably before continuing. "They're not as mean as your pretty head has made them out to be, y'know," he murmurs softly, looking at you sweetly. He brushes that same strand of hair from your eyes, smiling gently in a way nobody would expect from Jason.
"I don't believe you," you huff. "I think you're just trying to placate me, Jay."
He chuckles softly, weaving you both through women in gowns and men in suits, shielding you from all the nosy riches with his body. Your hands never leave his arm, and the fact that he makes you feel so safe makes him smile to himself. "I know you're nervous," he tells you, flashing you an understanding look. "I feel like I can hear your heart pounding."
When you don't reply after a bit, he stops your walk at a pair of armchairs and sits you down in one. "Tell me I'm wrong, babygirl," he murmurs, kneeling in front of you. He clasps his hands in yours, thumbs circling soothingly over your palms.
"…You're right," you concede, sighing. "I just— there's so much going on, and I'm uncomfortable. I feel like a child."
He stands, kissing your hairline softly as you rise from the chair. "C'mon. You go to the bathroom, take your time, then we'll head out of here."
"Bruce won't be mad?"
"If he is, he'll have to take it up with me. Let's get ice cream at the gas station on the way back, then we'll lay on the couch and watch a show. K?"
"…Okay, Jay."
bruce wayne:
"Isn't this pretty, darling?" Bruce croons, holding a delicate, intricate diamond necklace in his large hand. His arm is draped comfortingly around your waist as you browse an expensive jewelry store. It's stunning, but all you can think about is how it's too stuffy in here and the workers are definitely giving you dirty looks.
You hate it, how restricted you feel.
You hum, nodding absentmindedly. "Pretty, Bruce," is all you say, continuing to look around. Subconsciously, your eyes track down each and every exit—y'know, just in case.
Bruce clocks it almost immediately. He sets the beautiful necklace back onto its holder, frowning at you. His thumb strokes over your hip, grounding you in a way. "What's wrong?" he queries, gentle eyes falling on yours.
You give him your best everything-is-okay smile, meeting his concerned gaze. "Nothing."
"Honey, we've been married for god knows how long. I know you and all your tells. You're tracking the exits, you're all skittish, and I can feel your body shaking under my hand."
Damn him and his attentiveness.
You sigh, finally letting up. "Okay, fine. I don't know, I just feel trapped. It's too small in here, there's too much going on, people are looking at me funny—"
"—Nobody's looking at you funny, sweetheart."
Your brows furrow. "Yes they are, Brucey! Look at that security guard—he's totally mad at me."
His eyes flick up to the man in black standing at the door whose eyes are perusing the room, not lingering on anybody for too long. He's clearly just watching over things, but Bruce knows how your brain operates.
"Sweet girl," he coos, cupping your cheeks in his palms so as to keep your eyes locked on his. "I promise, he's got nothing against you. He's just doing his job. Besides, how could anyone be mad at his face, hm?"
He pats your cheek, coaxing a smile out of you. "Can we go?" you ask, your hands finding his arms and just resting there, assuring your mind that Bruce is here, in the flesh.
"I promised I'd buy you some jewelry."
"I don't need anything, baby. I just really wanna get out of here and get some air," you urge, pleading with your eyes for him to—for once—not feed his undying desire to spend money on you.
He nods, smoothing your hair down. "Very well. If that's what my wife wants, we can head out. How would you feel about getting dinner at that Italian place, my love?"
Your hands remain clasped around his elbow as he guides you out of the shop, offering a nod to the guard as he holds the door for you both. "Dinner sounds good."
He pats your hand, letting you keep holding him as he sits down on a street bench, guiding you to his side. He doesn't say anything, doesn't make a teasing comment about your clinging. He just lets you do what you need to do, his hand warm on your thigh. "So, reservation for 8:00?"
damian wayne:
You could probably count on one hand how many times Damian has willingly eaten fast food. Yet somehow, you managed to him to a Raising Canes for a sit-down meal of chicken, chicken, and more chicken. Damian only agreed when he found out that they had toast—that'll be all he's having for lunch today, he's accepted the fact.
However, you're unfortunately beginning to regret your own plan. It's absolutely packed, and of course you and Damian are tucked into a booth in the very back of the restaurant.
"Dami," you try to gain his attention over the noise of people conversing. He's too busy scowling at two teenagers eating chicken tenders to hear you.
You try again, nudging his shoulder. "Baby!"
Alas, he turns your way, frowning at the look of distress pooling in those beautiful eyes he loves so much. "Yes, beloved? What do you need? Are you okay?"
"My— my heart's beating really fast," you murmur, leaning close so he can hear you. "I feel so claustrophobic."
His frowns deepens, and he presses a hand to your chest. There, he can feel the rapid pounding of your heart. "Do you wish to leave?"
"Yes, I'm not done my chicken yet."
He rolls his eyes. "Forget the chicken, habibti. You are unwell. If you want to leave, we should leave," he replies. "I love you dearly, but you're so ridiculous sometimes."
His teasing makes you crack a smile despite the odd feeling of impending doom pooling in your gut. The despair in your gaze only breaks his heart more, so he stands up, taking your hand. "Let's go, beloved. Throw that out."
One of your hands holds your chicken basket, the other is held tight in Damian's as you walk to the trash can, tossing its contents in and leaving the basket on top.
Your free hand makes its way to the crook of Damian's elbow, literally holding on for dear life. Damian isn't afraid to bump shoulders with people who don't part for his lovely woman, so he consequently makes some people mad. But he doesn't care—when you need something, it's like Damian's brain zeroes in on it, eager to fulfill your needs and keep you content.
"Would you like to go home? I can have Alfred come pick us up."
You squeeze his arm, breathing in the fresh air and Damian's woodsy cologne. "You're not mad, are you?"
He shakes his head vehemently, knuckles tenderly stroking your cheek. "Never at you, hayati. I just want you to be okay and comfortable, always. I wasn't a fan of it in there, either. I'm not fond of the smell of cooking animals."
And just like that, his scowl is back. "You planning to go rescue a chicken now, Dames?"
He glances at you. "I just might. C'mon, let's go sit—I'll tell Alfred to come get us. As long as you're safe, beloved."
a/n: i hope this is okay :( i feel like it's flowkirk so bad lmfao but enjoy
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summary: the first time you and jason met. (you two are in hs)
notes: hii! i’m still improving soooo..enjoy! (yes, that is a pride and prejudice reference at the end)
something more masterlist.
books. that’s all jason came for. but as he stepped inside the library, he came out with something different.
the door’s bell rang, and jason stepped in. he offered a quick nod to the librarian out of respect, and made his way to the literature aisle.
sitting there, nose in your book, you peeked up to spot him.
some random guy, about six foot tall, carrying an air of bloody knuckles and bruised sides, stands in between the shelves, head buried a little deeper in a leather bound copy of…pride and prejudice?
noticing you, he cleared his throat, looked away, and sat on the stool beside you, book leaning on the shared table. for about a while, you both stayed like that, sitting in comfortable silence.
it..wasn’t silence for jason, though.
as you skipped to another page in your book, jason’s heart was pounding with every second, the hand that tapped against the table now paused.
the moment he spotted you, all coherent thoughts he had just simply…walked away.
the only thing on his mind now, (and probably forever) was you. awkwardness creeped into the library, and jason’s mouth moved before he could register it.
“uh..you come here a lot?”
you turn your head to him.
“..pretty often, you?”
he smiles, tentative and warm. “only when i’m free. i’m waiting for someone here, and work takes up my life, so this,” he gestured to the books, “is my getaway.”
you tilt your head, a smile creeping on your face. “what do you do for work anyway?”
he hesitates, “uh-nothing important. just..it’s a part time international thing is all.” he looks away while talking, only making eye contact at the end of his sentence. “you? what do you do for work?”
“oh, i work part time in a bar. it isn’t far from here though, about across the street, so that’s why i’m here pretty often.”
“..cool. i’ll check it out.”
you both went back to your respective books, before the silence was broke once again, by none other than you.
“..you go to school in gotham central?”
he freezes. like, visibly stops moving. “how’d you know?”
you point to his id. his shoulders drop, relaxing.
“ah, yeah, that explains it.”
“are you in section five, perhaps?”
jason’s eyes narrowed. “yes..”
you smiled.“cool! we’re in the same section so,” you stuck your hand out for him to shake. “it’s nice to meet you,” you peeked his id, “jason.”
well, you’ve done it now. the moment you smiled at him, his brain short-circuited. his hand instinctively shook yours, the contact sending sparks to his heart. as his smile built up even more, words (as coherent as he tried to make them) tumbled out of his mouth.
“yeah-um, yeah. my name’s jason and uh-wow, you’re pretty. pretty social, i mean! yeah, uh, it’s nice that we’re going to the same class. we’ll get to know each other, and-“
“jason.”
he looked up so quickly it could give him whiplash. “yeah?”
“breathe,” you offered him a soft smile again, which made his breath stutter even more.
his hand rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah, uh, sorry. i don’t usually act like this.”
you nodded. “me neither.”
he looked at you–really looked at you–and quiet understanding washed over him. a few minutes in again, the silence popped by the “ding!” of your phone. you picked it up, squinting at the screen before fixing your things and returning your book. jason looked…visibly concerned.
“where you going?”
“start of shift.” you smiled at him again. “i’ve got to go.” you paused, slinging your bag back over your shoulder, “it was nice meeting you, jason. see you at school?”
he smiled back. “yeah..yeah, see you.” you walked out of the library, and jason sat there, watching you get into the bar across the street.
a few minutes later, the library’s bell chimed again. roy harper, looking way too tired for this, walked in. jason didn’t even bat an eye at him, eyes still on you. roy followed his gaze, a smirk widening as he saw you and jason’s lovestruck gaze. “who’s she?”
he paused, “..i never got her name.”
“..you look like a creep, jason.”
jason got, up, clearing his throat and scoffing. “speak for yourself.”
roy stepped out of the library, jason following soon after, his eyes still on the bar.
jason didn’t know your favorite colour, or where you lived. hell, he didn’t even know your name. but he knew one thing.
hi lovely can i request a smau with all the characters where they confront their girlfriend or wife who was interviewed (they have a job within the public eye) and asked who her favorite superhero is and she did not name them?
that's not my name
IN WHICH... he thought he was your favorite :(
warnings: fluff w/ suggestive scenes, f!reader, pet names, cussing, thats about it, reader has some sort of occupation involving interviews, paparazzi, etc., tim’s is a lil suggestive at the end, MOMMY KINK TIM!!
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
im thinking reader kiss jason todd before patrol (reader forget they put on a lipstick and left a mark on jason cheeks) as reader want to tell him, he already left.
jason put off his mask infront of the batfam and thats how they find out about reader. lol
anw thank youu, i love ur work SO MUCH!😻
kisses for my valentine
IN WHICH... you and jason did a good job hiding your relationship...until you didn't.
warnings: fluff, crack, f!reader, reader is shorter than jason but the exact amount isn't specified, cussing
wc: 1k
"Mmmmmwah!" you exaggerate, lips smacking against Jason's cheek. The apartment is dark, the lights all off as you prepare to go to bed and Jason prepares to leave for patorl.
Your arms wrap around his broad torso as you look up at him. "I'll miss you."
He chuckles, a hand coming up to stroke your hair. "You act as if I'm going into war, ma."
"You might as well be, with the crime you fight!" you reply, pressing another kiss to his other cheek. "Plus, I like to be around you all the time. Of course I'm gonna miss you!"
Your lips keep peppering sweet kisses all over Jason's face. His forehead, his nose, the corner of his mouth...
You seem to have forgotten that you put on a bold lipstick today.
"Alright, babygirl, I gotta go," he sighs, rubbing your shoulders soothingly. "Be good for me, m'kay?"
You nod. "I will. I'm just going to watch a movie then go to bed," you say, smiling softly at your boyfriend. "Go fight bad guys, or whatever."
He laughs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His hands cup your cheeks as he admires your face in the dark room one last time before his departure. "I love you, doll. Be safe."
With a final ruffle of your hair, Jason heads out the window of the apartment. You watch him go before shutting the window and curtains and leaving to your bedroom.
"What's B want?" Jason frowns as he walks alongside Dick—well, alongside Nightwing—toward the manor.
Dick only shrugs. "Dunno. But we gotta answer to the old man."
The moment they enter the manor, Jason removes his helmet, shaking out his hair. "What'd you need, B?"
"What the fuck?!" Dick exclaims, removing his domino mask. Jason frowns, watching as his older brother erupts into laughter.
"Oh, my god," another voice murmurs. It's only then that Jason realizes the rest of the batfam is in the room. The voice had been Tim's.
Jason scowls down at Dick, who's doubled over. "What?" he asks. "What the hell is so funny?"
"Never thought I'd see the day." Damian.
Another giggle sounds from beside Jason. "You got a little something," he teases, gesturing to his entire face.
A frown tugs at Jason's lips. Tim chuckles. "That pink is so your color, man."
"You look ridiculous." Damian again.
Jason lets out a low grumble, "is someone going to tell me what's goign on?" he demands.
Bruce only cracks the smallest grin. "Check the mirror."
With the attitude of a stubborn toddler, Jason stomps over to the nearest, full-body mirror, and...oh.
He blinks at his reflection, eyes darting across his whole face. Eight prints total. Eight pink marks the shape of your pretty little lips, scattered across his face like a branding.
"That little brat," he groans under his breath, wetting his thumb and rubbing profusely at one of the marks.
It won't budge.
"Damn good lipstick, I'll give you that, baby," he sighs, accepting his defeat as he rejoins his family.
Dick, who seems to have calmed down, lets out another laugh when he sees Jason. Tim is smiling like the cat that got the cream. Damian is...being Damian, staring into Jason's soul with a look akin to disgust on his face. Bruce only smirks.
"Wanna explain?"
Jason sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do I need to?"
"Yes!" Dick exclaims.
"You can't imply anything from...this?" Jason asks in annoyance.
"We never know, brother. You could've had a hookup before patrol. You could be married. It could be a bunch of things."
In Jason's mind, he's hurling a bazillion insults at Dick...and the rest of his brothers for laughing.
He groans rather dramatically. "Fine. I...have a girlfriend."
Alas, Damian grins. "When can we meet her?"
Jason scowls. "Never. She doesn't need to be dragged into all...this."
"You just dragged her in, I'm afraid," Bruce chimes in. "She'll join us for dinner next Thursday."
"B—"
"She'll join us, for dinner," he repeats.
Jason could crawl into a hole and die. "Okay. If she agrees."
"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry, Jay!" you exclaim.
It's early the next morning, you're still rocking bedhead and puffy eyes when Jason gives you the rundown of his night.
You groan. "Ugh! I should've realized. How did I forget that I tried that lipstick?"
"Doll, it's not your fault," he reassures, placing a piping hot cup of coffee in front of you. He brushes your hair back soothingly, kissing your temple. "They would've found out eventually. Plus, it was—admittedly—pretty cute. I liked your lil prints all over me."
You look up at Jason, forking at your breakfast and taking a bite. "Aww, that's sweet, baby."
"Don't talk with your mouth full, ma," he chastises, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. "Well, anyways, they've invited you to dinner next week. You don't have to go if you don't want to. I already told them that I refused to force you to come—"
"—Jay! I want to meet your family!" you assure him, bringing a hand up to his on your cheek, holding it there. "I wanna meet the man who created you."
"He didn't create me, baby, you know this."
"Yes, yes," you roll your eyes. "You know what I meant! The man who raised you, the annoying siblings you always talk about. I wanna know them!"
He smiles fondly. "You know I didn't want to get you caught in the mess that is my family."
"Jason," you groan at his density. "I want to be a part of your mess, don't you get it?"
"Doll—"
"—don't try to talk me out of it."
He laughs. "I hate you sometimes," he sighs, arms snaking around your neck as he stands over your chair. He tucks his face into your neck. "Stubborn girl. We can go shopping tomorrow, find you a cute little outfit."
"You just wanna dress me up," you giggle, ruffling his hair that tickles your neck.
"Guilty. And we're finding you a lipstick that's easier to remove while we're out."
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love, love, LOVE all your work!! Could we get maybe fluffy headcanons with gender neutral reader who always does small things for them? Like organising things, or giving them little gifts regularly? <3
how you show love to your batboy
IN WHICH... you offer support to your lover :)
warnings: fluff fluff fluff, gn!reader, damian is aged up in his own hcs but not in bruce's, bruce's is very tailored to the parenting aspect of being his spouse (it's mostly about caring for the batfam), YN used once in bruce's, bruce's is hella long i apologize, like 1 cuss word, probably ooc—sorry to that one anon who hates me😘
featuring... jason todd, dick grayson, bruce wayne, damian wayne, tim drake
jason todd:
before you, jason never thought of himself as deserving of gifts. to be fair, he never received much of any before bruce, and even after the fact, bruce's gifts just weren't the same.
but with you? gifts are everything. he loves how sentimental they are. jason would definitely be a big fan of "just because" gifts.
"jay!" you sing-song, peeking into his room with a big smile.
he arches his brow. "what's behind your back?" he asks, straight to the point.
from behind you, you whip out a big bouquet of beautiful flowers. who cares if jason's a man? men deserve flowers, too! "for you, jace."
"...you got me these?"
you nod. he glances over to the corner of his room where there's practically a shrine of your gifts: a box of cute cards you'd written him, tons of stuffed animals that 'reminded you of him,' handcrafted beaded bracelets, long sentimental notes, you name it. "shall i add this to the pile, baby?"
dick grayson:
not exactly a small thing, but given that dick's a very lively and energetic person, he needs you to be his space to just slow down.
so your favorite thing to do for him every wednesday and sunday is a big self-care spa day.
lights all throughout the apartment are dim, candles are lit left and right, a fresh set of PJs is laid out on the bed.
in the bathroom, the counter is covered in goods: a whole skincare routine, a face mask, a jade/ice roller, eye patches, headbands, a lip mask, all the hair products you could ever need.
you've plugged in your towel warmer, which currently houses the fluffiest, softest white towel that's waiting for dick. dick, of course, is soaking in a hot, soothing bath. you sit on the edge, massaging shampoo into his dark locks, rubbing his body down with body wash, and so on.
for the next few hours, he's entirely pampered. he usually doesn't speak at all through the whole thing, content to just bask in your calming presence and care. over time, wednesdays and sundays have become his favorite days of the week.
bruce wayne:
as bruce's spouse, you understand all too well how it's hard for him to be both emotionally and physically present in the lives of all his kids, especially with his business.
to offer support, you do the most you can to fill the emotional role for the kids. as bruce's spouse, you're close with all the boys.
you check up on damian often, asking for any and all updates on how his animals are doing. you're one of the only people he lets have that close a connection with his precious babies, and that alone means a lot.
"how's my bat-cow doing, hm?" you smile at the young boy, whose hair—so much like your husband's—is glowing under the sun.
damian nods. "she's doing quite well. she missed you when you were away the other day," he murmurs, looking at you appreciatively. “she likes when you pet her head each morning.”
with jason, you know he loves to keep his space clean and very specific/tailored to himself. so you do your best to make him feel seen by asking him before you tidy his spaces.
little questions like: "jason, honey, do you want these books on this table or should i put them back on your shelf?", "is this towel supposed to be folded different from the others? let's fix that, yeah, hon?", and "i assume you want me to use the unscented bleach for your bathroom sink?" make him feel heard and loved. having you pay attention to the exact way he likes his environment helps fill the gap from bruce's emotional absence.
your favorite way of caring for tim when bruce can't is (attempting to) keep his sleep schedule in check. every time you have to pick up and toss another empty energy drink can, an angel loses its wings.
"tim! are you still awake?" you call softly, knocking on his door before entering. "baby, it's nearly 1 in the morning, go to bed."
"but YN, i'm busy with this case—"
"bed, timmy, now. there's always tomorrow, okay, hon?" you order gently, kissing your "son's" forehead. "rest up. please."
lastly, you care for dick by just listening. you know that dick grew up being treated as an equal to bruce rather than as someone to be guided and parented, so you flip the roles by being his emotional crutch.
"what's wrong, dear?" you ask him, watching as he enters your bedroom, sitting in the armchair beside the bed.
"i need someone to talk to," he admits, looking at you with a bone-deep trust in his eyes.
you shut your book, placing it on your nightstand. "well, i'm all ears, dick. what's going on?"
bruce is so insanely thankful that his kids have someone as loving as you in their lives. he tells you that nearly every night when he holds you in bed.
"thank you for...doing that for me," he whispers, rubbing a strong hand up and down your back as your breathing slows. "i know i sort of failed them in that regard but, they love you. they really do—and so do i, darling. thank you."
damian wayne:
you love to bake for damian. when you're feeling extra lovey dovey toward him, you haul your ass to the kitchen to whip up something new. you bake extra for him when you know he's stressed or down—it's a unique love language the two of you share.
"dami," you approach him, holding a plate with one singular macaron—one of many, damian assumes. "can you try this? i made it for you."
he glances up at you with those lovely green eyes then back to the little pink sandwich cookie. "what is it, beloved?"
"its a raspberry macaron with white chocolate ganache inside," you murmur, suddenly shy as he reaches out to grab your treat and taste-test.
he takes a small bite, chewing a bit. he then stares into your eyes for a moment, smirks, and downs the entire thing. "oh, baby, that's amazing," he tells you, a hand coming up to find your arm and bring you closer. he caresses you soothingly. "you make any more?”
"...i made like, forty," you admit with a laugh, tucking your face into his neck.
"of course you did," he chuckles, holding you close. "bring me some more, beloved. you did an amazing job."
you grin. "i did raspberry on purpose."
"yeah, y'know how much i love berries, don't you, love?"
tim drake:
tim's very bad at taking care of himself/his space, often neglecting to make his bed, clean his room, make himself meals, etc.
that said, your favorite thing to do is take care of those things for him.
“what...did you do?" he asks when he enters his apartment late one night. you're just sitting on the couch, smiling at him.
"i cleaned up your room, washed all the dishes, plugged in an air freshener, vacuumed, and meal prepped lunches for the next week," you reply. "i knew you weren't gonna do it."
"i...thank you, baby," he murmurs, looking around the pristine space. he can't remember the last time that there wasn't a random energy drink half-finished on some counter.
a/n: this was so so so so fun to write guys icl! i loved this idea mwah ty anon :)
hii! i have a request for a fluffy batboys fic. what if they had a gf who lovesss matcha( aka me😭) and they always wake up in the mornings to her in the kitchen whisking and making her matcha, maybe they even try some of it😁 thank you!!
ONE FOR ME, ONE FOR YOU
SUMMARY: you're in love with matcha and your boyfie...but do the two mix? aka my take on the batboys with a matcha-obsessed gf
warnings: fluff, f!reader, established relationship, once again definitely OOC, gf!reader w/ everyone but wife!reader w/ bruce, Y/N used genuinely 2x
wc: 1.9k
featuring... dick grayson, jason todd, bruce wayne, damian wayne, and tim drake
a/n: i LOOOOOVE matcha
dick grayson:
"What...is that?" Dick queries when you enter your shared apartment.
You'd just had the best girls' day: you walked around downtown in cute outfits, went shopping, and of course picked up some delicious matcha on the way home.
You frown. "What's what?"
He eyes your cup, shoulders tense as if it's going to jump out and bite him. "That. Why's it green?"
You scoff. "It's green and pink!" you correct. "And it's matcha, dummy. It's really good! It's that drink I have every morning."
He nods, but he doesn't really understand. "Ah. I see."
You set your purse down, arching a brow. "Why do you look so peeved?"
"It's just...why is it green?" He repeats his previous question, finally daring to walk closer.
You shrug. "I dunno. It's made with leaves or something. But trust me, baby, it's good!"
"I don't know, honey."
You swirl the cup, mixing the strawberry foam with the foamy green liquid. "You should try some! Here."
You extend your hand, holding out the plastic cup to Dick.
"Baby, I don't—"
"—Try. It."
He flashes you a weary smile, gingerly taking the cup. His fingers brush yours as you let it go, sending sparks and warmth down his arm and to his chest.
He brings his lips to the paper straw, taking the teeniest little sip and smacking his lips a bit for taste.
You can literally see the moment he perks up. "Holy shit, baby. Where've you been hiding this?"
You giggle. "In the cabinet by the fridge. Why, you like it?"
"I love it, surprisingly."
You laugh, walking closer to snake your arms around his torso. "You can have the rest." You smile, looking up at him adoringly.
"Really?"
"Mhm. I was full anyway." You lift a hand to brush a stray lock of midnight-dark hair from his eyes.
He hums, leaning into your touch while simultaneously taking another, much larger sip. "I'm replacing our morning coffee with this," he says adamantly, nodding down at you. "Amazing pull, sweet girl. Absolute amazing pull."
jason todd:
"Babe?"
"Yeah, Jace?"
"What's matcha?"
You pause your brushing of your hair, moving away from the bathroom sink to walk into your shared kitchen. "What?"
He shakes your little tin, wherein your green powder resides. "This. Matcha. What is it?"
You giggle, setting your hairbrush down on the counter and approaching him. "It's that drink I make every morning. The green one."
Instantly his face twists up in disgust. "Oh. That stuff— Ow!"
He winces, rubbing the spot in his chest where you just swat him. "Mean. I like my matcha! And it's quite good for you!"
He scoffs, a teasing little smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, like I need it?" he asks rhetorically, flexing his arms and chest.
Despite yourself, a giggle bubbles in your throat. "Shut up, Jay. You're so weird."
"You love me. Let me try some."
"Hm?"
"Of your 'matcha.' Can you...make me a glass? It's a weird green color, but I'll try it."
You smile. "Is it because I like it?"
"...Maybe. C'mon, doll, hurry up."
A blush coats your cheeks as you hurry to the bathroom to finish brushing your hair. "Okay, okay! Let me finish this first."
Once you've thoroughly detangled your hair, you step into the kitchen to whip up the perfect matcha latte for your sweet Jason.
"Here ya go," you chirp, handing the fancy mason jar and straw to Jason. "I hope you like it..."
He dips the straw in and gives it a little swirl before bringing his lips to the glass. You worry your lip as the green liquid makes its way up the straw and into Jason's mouth, awaiting his reaction.
He nods, smiling. "You did good, ma."
"You like it?"
"I do."
"You're not just saying that because I made it?"
He shakes his head, taking another drink. "It's really good, doll. Make me another one in the morning?" He tugs you into his lap, offering the straw to you. You happily accept, taking a sip of your wonderful creation.
"Is this your new thing now?" You tease.
"Oh, absolutely."
bruce wayne:
"Hey, bruce?"
"Yes, honey?" he calls back from his office.
Your footsteps grow closer until your fists knock rhythmically against his rich wooden door. You wait a few seconds before coming in.
"Why did you buy...so much matcha?"
He shrugs, eyes never leaving his computer as he replies. "I saw that stuff you drink every day, wanted to try it. So I had Alfred whip me up something. I really enjoyed it."
He says it almost as if it's a confession, and you see the faint flush that creeps up the back of his neck.
You walk closer to his desk, rubbing your hands over his shoulders and traps almost absentmindedly. "Well how did he make it?"
Bruce shrugs. "It was hot. Definitely had some honey or something in it."
You click your tongue, tsking softly. "Oh, Alfred. He just doesn't know the ways."
Alas, Bruce's eyes avert from his computer, instead meeting yours. They're soft, kind, loving...full of everything your husband has always been to you.
"Well then, love? What are 'the ways'?"
You smile. "My way, of course. You haven't had real matcha until you've had Y/N matcha, okay, baby?"
Bruce chuckles fondly, a large warm hand finding your own and bringing you closer to him. He presses his lips to the back of your hand. "And why haven't you made me 'Y/N matcha' yet?"
"Do ya want one?"
"Well, yes please!" he laughs, tugging you into his side. "Let me taste your ways, babe."
You giggle, releasing yourself from his hold. "Okay, one second! I'll go make you one right now!"
You take your sweet time, determined to whip up the absolute perfect iced matcha latte for your husband to try.
You use the nice ice: the big ice cubes from the molds you personally fill and freeze. You use the perfect ratio of matcha-to-milk, actually bothering with a measuring cup this time. You plug in the frother to make delicious strawberry foam to top off Bruce's drink. Lastly, you top the drink off with little diced strawberry bits, dunking the straw into the glass and marching back to Bruce's office.
"Brucey, I'm back."
"Only took 15 minutes, honey," he teases. "Come on in, let me try this."
You weasel your way in through the small crack in the door, determined to not jostle the drink too much so it stays perfect.
The glass clinks against his desk as you place the confection down. "Voila."
"Wow, love," he smiles, picking the glass up to take a sip. You're surprised when he shuts his eyes in bliss and goes in for a second taste. "You absolutely outdid yourself."
"Really?! I worked so hard and spent extra time on it and even made the strawberry topping just for y—"
"—And it's perfect," he assures you. "I'll be finishing this, darling. I want that recipe in writing on my desk by tomorrow; I need to be able to make one of these for myself."
damian wayne:
Damian's always been a starer, but never this much. When you can physically feel his gaze boring into you, you know something's up.
You turn slowly toward your boyfriend, swirling your matcha around with your straw. "What's up, baby?"
"I wish to try that."
You tilt your head. "What, this?" You lift the cup of matcha, earning a nod from Damian.
"Yes, habibti. I wish to try it. You drink it every single morning with strawberries and yogurt. I am curious."
Your smile is so warm and sweet that it sends an ache crashing through Damian's chest. "Here. Have a sip."
He accepts the paper cup from you, cringing as he wipes the condensation from the drink. "Eugh. Okay, here I go."
His lips meet the paper straw, silently grateful that your favorite cafe does not pollute the oceans and harm its animals with more plastic. "Oh."
"Is that a good 'oh' or a bad 'oh'?" you giggle softly, reaching to take the cup back from Damian. But, to your surprise, he doesn't return it. He tugs it back and away from your grasp, taking another sip.
"I'll be keeping this, if you don't mind," he says. "You don't mind. Oh, good. Thank you, beloved."
You laugh. "I never said that," you protest, but make no further move to get your drink back. Without another word, you stand up and head back into the cafe.
A frown tugs at Damian's lips. Perhaps he has done something wrong, took his jokes and sarcastic thievery too far. It's not for another 10 minutes that you return, and his heart sinks to his ass.
"Oh, hayati, I'm sorry. You didn't need to go buy yourself a new drink! I was only kidding, I swear I was going to give it bac—"
"—It's for you," you interrupt, smiling sweetly as you slide the cup toward him. "It's the exact same thing just with lavender flavored foam on top. Let me know what you think."
"Wha—" he blinks. "You...got me another one."
You nod. "You said you liked it, but I thought you'd like this even more!"
He stares at your pretty face for a moment, the thought of how you were so attentive to him nearly bringing tears to his eyes.
"O— okay, habibti. I trust your word." He picks up the second cup and takes a sip, the lavender notes blooming on his tongue. "Oh, I love you."
You giggle. "That good, huh?"
"Can we come here every day, beloved?"
"I already do. You should start tagging along."
tim drake:
"Matcha is a powdered green tea which originated in China in the 7th century," Tim states, watching you swirl the milky green drink in your glass.
You blink. "...Thanks for sharing, Timmy."
He nods. "You're welcome. I researched when I saw you drinking it in your room earlier."
"You weren't with me in my room earlier."
He smiles. "Don't worry about it. Can I try some?"
A giggle escapes your lips. "Stalker," you tease, scooting closer to your boy and holding the straw to his lips. "Drink up, baby. Let me know how you like it."
You wait eagerly as his lips suck on the straw, jaw working deliciously as he swallows. Your smile only grows the more his expression becomes delighted. That is, until you hear the sound of an empty straw.
"I— Tim! You drank it all!"
He laughs, wiping his lips. "Oops. Sorry, baby. It was good!"
Your scowl is he cutest thing he's every seen. "Ugh, you're obnoxious! I'm gonna go make a new one."
"Baby, c'mon," he laughs. "I'm sorr—"
"—Save it. I'll be back."
Yeah, he's definitely not sorry.
After a bit of time he begins to wonder whether he pissed you off enough and you're actually not coming back, but just when he whips out his phone to text you an apology, his bedroom door swings open.
And this time, you're holding two glasses topped with the creamy matcha, one of them topped with a pink, sweet-smelling foam.
"I put strawberry on yours," you grumble pettily, holding the glass out to Tim. He happily accepts, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to your forehead as you sit down.
"You're absolutely perfect, have I ever told you that?" he asks your moody, still-scowling face. He smiles, raining kisses down to every corner of your pretty face. Each cheek, your temples, your eyelids, your nose, the corners of your mouth. "So sweet, so pretty..."
"Alright, alright!" you squeal, shoving at his chest. "I forgive you for drinking my drink, dummy. Now you have your own—specially crafted. Enjoy."
"I'll enjoy anything you make me, sweetie. Don't worry. Oh, and I'll be expecting this eeeeevery morning."
SUMMARY: you help peter with his arachnid sensory overload :(
warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, f!reader, established relationship, pet names, panic attack/sensory overload, cuddly peter :P
wc: 513
a/n: not exactly BND spoilers but peter does have heightened arachnid senses in this
"Pete? You okay in there?" you call from the couch on the other side of Peter's small apartment. Glancing up from your book, you frown at the agonized look on your boyfriend's face.
As you make your way to him, E.V.I.E.'s voice fills the room. "Warning. Senses overloading."
You grimace in sympathy, placing a hand on his back as he covers his ears and doubles over. "Baby—"
"No, fuck—" he whimpers. "Everything's so loud..."
He thrashes and whines as the fluttering wings of a fly, the drip of the kitchen sink, and the whoosh of the wind crescendo in his ears to a deafening volume.
"Shhh..." you soothe, gently bringing a hand to his cheek as you guide him to sit on the cold floor between your legs.
"Baby," he whimpers. "Please."
You replace his hands with your own over his ears, his head falling into your shoulder, nose breathing in your perfume. Though he'll never admit it, Peter would allow your scent to overwhelm his senses any day—he'll take that over the thousands of sounds bombarding his ears.
You smooth a hand over his hair, scritching at his scalp gently in the way he loves so dearly. In hopes of quieting everything around him, you hum the soft tune of "oh yeah?" by Steve Lacy in his covered ear.
"Ah." You don't miss the soft relieved sound that falls from your lover's lips, don't miss the way his shoulders drop, and certainly don't miss the way he murmurs your name softly into your skin.
E.V.I.E. speaks again. “Arachnid hormones suppressing.” There’s a quiet, digital ding from the computer as Peter’s levels even out, returning him to his usual state.
"Better?" you whisper, to which he only nods. "Should I stop yet?"
He shakes his head this time, shaky arms curling around your waist. "Mm. Not yet, please. Just keep holding me?"
And so you do just that. Your free arm drapes over his shoulders, your other hand still buried in his chestnut curls. "Why does that happen to you?" you ask him curiously.
His lashes tickle your skin as he blinks slowly. "I'm not sure yet, baby. E.V.I.E. says it happens when my arachnid hormone levels rise over their baseline amount. Why they rise, though, I don't know."
You hum in acknowledgement, pressing your cheek against his hair. "It hurts me, seeing you like that. All I wanna do is protect my baby, and I can't even do that."
He chuckles softly, lifting his head to look up at you. "My sweet girl," he coos, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. "Just wanna protect me, huh?"
"Yes, actually," you pout.
"That's my job, baby. But thank you," he murmurs, pecking your lips softly. "I do like laying on you. Makes for quite a comfy mattress."
And suddenly, he lays all of his beefy weight on top of you, crushing you under his lax frame. "Ughh, Peter!" you whine. "You're heavy."
"No, I'm comfy," he corrects. The little shit. "Now quit squirming. Let's lay." He tucks his face right back into your neck where it lay previously, inhaling deeply.
