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Dick grayson x reader

Synopsis: The Bat-family realizes that Dick may have finally found the love of his life, after all this time, after introducing so many girls to his family.

Dick Grayson.

A name that carried weight in Gotham's high society.

Why?

Simple. He was the first son of billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne—the adopted child of Gotham's most infamous playboy.

Bruce had never exactly been a family man, and he certainly wasn't known for settling down. At least, that's what the newspapers had been saying since the first time he stepped into the public eye.

Dick remembered watching him arrive at galas with a different woman every time.

At first, it confused him. It wasn't like his parents.

Bruce Wayne didn't have a great love story.

Dick never said anything about it. It wasn't really his business. After all, the closest thing he knew to love was the memory of his parents.

Mary Lloyd and John Grayson.

The way they'd fallen hopelessly in love despite coming from rival circus families within Haly's Circus.

It was a story they loved telling him, and he never got tired of hearing it, no matter how many times they repeated it.

Maybe it was childish curiosity.

Maybe he just wondered if one day he'd feel the same thing they always talked about with such happiness in their eyes.

When Dick turned fifteen, he realized getting a girlfriend wasn't exactly difficult.

Girls gave him Valentine's cards and boxes of chocolate. He accepted them all with the same polite smile.

Then, at sixteen, he met Liu.

The woman who manipulated him.

The woman who used him.

The woman he blamed for his commitment issues.

Because yes, Richard John Grayson was terrified of commitment.

Long-term relationships.

The routines that came with being part of a couple. And because of that, none of his relationships ever lasted.

Barbara. Kory. Beatrice. Emily. Bonnie. Daphne. Elizabeth.

Just a few names from a list his family knew all too well.

Sometimes, a quiet voice would whisper in the back of his mind.

Maybe you're like Bruce.

Maybe some people just aren't meant to be loved. So Dick did the only thing he knew how to do.

He ignored the ache in his chest and kept moving forward. Saying "I love you" had never been difficult for him.

Showing affection wasn't difficult either.

That was just who Dick Grayson was.

What was difficult was waking up next to the same girl more than twice.

The panic.

The suffocating feeling.

The fear. It always came back.

Everyone in the manor knew it.

Until one day, the girls stopped showing up.

"Maybe he just started seeing someone recently," Tim said, trying to be the voice of reason. "Give him time. He'll introduce her eventually."

Two months.

Three.

Four.

Eight.

Eight whole months passed without a single update about Dick's love life.

Naturally, the manor became suspicious.

Had they investigated?

Absolutely.

Bruce had even used the Batcomputer.

"Bruce, are you sure about this?" Tim asked for what felt like the tenth time.

"Of course he's sure. Just hurry up and find something," Jason said, bouncing his leg impatiently. "I know he's hiding something."

"I already told you, I hacked his phone. There's nothing there."

"That's exactly what's suspicious," Stephanie argued. "He hasn't talked to a single woman in months. Maybe his last relationship actually affected him."

Damian rolled his eyes.

"Please. He dated her for two days. He probably doesn't even remember her name."

The room turned toward him.

"How do you know that?"

Damian shrugged. "I asked."

"I think he's fine," Cass murmured.

"Master Bruce," Alfred interrupted as he entered the room. "I believe you should leave Master Dick alone."

"Unless that's exactly what he wants us to do!" Jason exclaimed. "What if it's not Dick? What if it's a shapeshifter pretending to be him?"

"I knew it," Stephanie added, pointing dramatically. "Aliens again!"

"That's ridiculous," Damian interrupted. "If it were an alien, I would've known already."

"Maybe you hacked the wrong phone."

Tim looked offended.

"Then you do it. Besides, it's impossible. Dick uses Wayne Enterprises software. The same security system as the Batcomputer."

Bruce remained silent, considering the situation.

Jason frowned. "He's got a point. Maybe he's using a second phone."

"Wait." Damian pointed at the screen. "What's that purchase?"

Tim squinted. "Custom mugs?"

Jason leaned back in his chair.

"Have you considered the possibility that he's gay?"

Nobody answered.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Jason added quickly. "I'm just saying."

"That's not the point," Stephanie said. "The point is he hasn't dated anyone in almost a year."

(...)

"What are you writing?" Damian glanced over Dick's shoulder.

Dick I never stop writing

"A letter."

"A letter for what?"

Damian stretched his neck to get a better look. Was he quitting his job?, Working a case?

Several days had passed since the family's secret investigation, and Dick had acted completely normal.

Dick looked up.

A shy smile appeared on his face.

"A love letter."

Then he pressed a finger to his lips. A silent request to keep it secret.

Damian stared.

The honesty caught him completely off guard.

And, annoyingly, he couldn't get any more information.

A love letter?, To who?, Dick seeing someone? Reconnecting with someone?

Unfortunately, Damian couldn't find out.

Love letters.

Was there anything more romantic than that? As a child, Dick had received countless letters.

Pink paper. Hand-drawn hearts. Lipstick kisses pressed onto the page. By fifteen, he'd stopped reading them.

There were simply too many. Letters from girls he'd met once. Girls he'd never met at all.

At first, though, he'd read every single one. Even when he didn't return their feelings.

He told himself it was out of politeness. Out of curiosity.

Nothing more.

Definitely not because he liked reading the beautiful ways people described love.

Definitely not because some small part of him hoped one of them might truly love him.

Really love him.

Not because of Bruce's money.

Not because he had a perfect smile.

But because they liked Dick.

The boy who still believed he could one day love someone as deeply as his parents had loved each other.

As time passed, he started calling himself stupid for believing that.

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

The blonde girl looked embarrassed.

Dick glanced past her and noticed her friends watching from the corner.

Cheerleaders.

He smiled.

"Sure. Why not?"

And just like that, the cycle began.

Dick laughed softly at the memory.

Who would've thought he'd eventually become just as hopeless as those girls, sitting here writing a love letter?

Damian gave him a strange look.

(...)

Warm sunlight filtered through the manor's windows.

Dick groaned and buried his face deeper into whatever he was cuddling.

"Love, stop..."

A sleepy laugh escaped him.

"That tickles."

He snuggled closer.

"I don't want to get up yet."

"Love..."

The soft kisses suddenly became wet licks.

A strong dog smell hit his nose.

Dick's eyes flew open.

Jason was standing over him with an expression of complete disgust. Beside him, Haley wagged her tail happily.

The silence was painful.

Dick had fallen asleep in the manor's living room.

Haley remained blissfully unaware of the chaos she'd caused by waking up her owner.

Because clearly this wasn't Dick's fault.

Not at all.

Definitely not his desperate need for physical affection.

"I..."

Dick had absolutely no idea how to explain himself.

"Full access to the weapons room and fifty percent of your allowance for the next year."

"Forty."

Jason stared.

"Deal."

Dick immediately raised both hands in surrender.

A small price to pay if Jason agreed to forget this ever happened.

(...)

The sound of keyboard keys filled the study.

Bruce sighed.

Dick sighed back.

Eventually, Dick's hands stopped moving.

"Just say it." Bruce didn't even look up.

Years of experience had taught him to recognize Dick's dramatic sighs.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Dick."

Silence.

"There's something you want to say."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Bruce."

Bruce waited.

Eventually, Dick cracked. "It's just..."

He hesitated.

"Do you ever get that feeling? When everything's going well, but you're still nervous?"

Bruce looked up.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah. Like... anxious. Like something bad is about to happen. Like everything's going to disappear. Or you'll wake up and realize it was all a dream."

"Dick."

Blue eyes focused on him.

"Relax."

The answer came calmly.

"You'll be okay."

And for the first time in a long time, Dick actually believed it.

He felt calm.

A little embarrassed, he looked away.

Then, almost shyly, he admitted:

"She's my girlfriend."

Perhaps the synopsis is wrong, and it wasn't the family but Dick who realized it. Wow medítenlo. As always, thank you technology for existing and translating it.

jun, 26 / 2025

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 ()

Tim drake x reader

Synopsis: When you start dating a coffee-addicted genius detective, you have to learn how to keep him alive...

The apartment was dark and cold, except under the soft blankets where they both warmed themselves with each other's body heat and soft snores.

Your cold feet tangled between the detective's legs, his mouth slightly open, letting out soft snores

Everything was perfect until the alarm went off.

05:00 AM

Tim's blue eyes snapped open, like a soldier accustomed to precise timing, and he began to gently shift from your grasp, silently trying to pull you away from his chest.

"No"

"Huh?" I look at you, confused. "I woke you up. I'm sorry—go back to sleep," I murmur, stroking your hair.

"Don't even think about it, Timothy," you whispered, your eyes still closed.

"I have to go"

"You don't have to go"

"I have work to do," he insisted, trying to push you away.

"What did we say yesterday?"

She rolled her eyes, but the slight curve of her lips betrayed that she was enjoying it.

"I need to sleep at least eight hours, no matter what time I go to bed."

"Exactly," you murmur, forcing one eye open. "And..."

"And..?"

"Last night you went to bed at eleven..." you affectionately scratched her waist, "so you won't get up for another three hours."

"The faster I get up, the faster I'll solve this investigation," he insisted, taking your hand.

"The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you can resume your research" you corrected him, giving him a few gentle pats on the ribs.

1. Force him to sleep at least 8 hours

Wednesday 9:35 AM

Hurried footsteps echo in the apartment.

You wake up to the sound of a dull thud followed by a groan and a curse.

"Tim- "you complain, brushing your messy hair away from your face to watch him hop around while putting on his pants.

"Ugh, I'm late!"

"Do you want me to make you something?" you murmur, pulling back the soft blankets.

"No, it's not necessary—Honey, have you seen my purple tie?"

"I left her with your other ties"

"No, that one is very clear

You sighed: "You have like a thousand purple ties, wear that one."

“I need dark purple; if I wear light purple, my suit won’t have any contrast,” he argued, pacing the room. “And if there’s no contrast, I’ll look strange, everyone will stare at me, and the meeting will go badly. If it goes badly, I’ll have to come up with a plan B, but if you come up with a plan B, my whole strategy will be ruined…”

"Here it is," you handed it to her. "I'll go prepare something."

He did not respond, focusing all his attention on adjusting his tie.

"I'm leaving," I kiss your forehead.

"Tim"

"See you this afternoon, I promise to be there before 6. I'll go to the mansion with Bruce after the meeting."

"ahm~" you say, bringing the fork closer to his mouth

"Honey, I'm going to be late," I tried to persuade you.

You pretended to be offended. "Are you going to abandon the pancakes I made for you?"

"It smells delicious, but I only have 20 minutes to get there." He grabbed his things, ready to leave.

"Mmm, well, goodbye, I won't force you." You turned your back on him, pressing the button on the coffee machine. "I guess I'll have to drink this myself." You gently swirled the cup to release the aroma.

A smell that chilled his blood as his nostrils reveled in it, and the soft sound of his bowels broke the silence.

"It only takes me 10 minutes to get here by car," he said, sitting down and anxiously moving his leg.

You laughed, kissing her cheek and saying "eat"

2. You must eat properly, no quick protein bars.

+ 3. Keep your negative overthinking under control.

Saturday 08:11 AM

"This crazy woman," I muttered, entering the kitchen.

Dick smiles playfully, "I see you're still in one piece. I thought you'd come out with a black eye. I was already calling Alfred after all that shouting."

Stephenie punched his arm, "I thought you were over your toxic relationship tendencies."

The boy glares at her menacingly, but his tired face and dark circles under his eyes only made the blonde laugh.

"Who died?" Jason asked sarcastically, grabbing the cereal. "You look dead, and that's coming from a dead man."

"You look bad, Drake," Damian grumbled, walking past to take the cereal away. "Todd, I'm going to tell Alfred you're eating my cereal again."

"Wow, thanks family! I also think they look good," he said sharply, clearly irritated.

"He's in a bad mood because he hasn't had a cup of coffee for 3 hours."

"3 hours and 45 minutes," he gasped anxiously, "but not for long." He opened the pantry, rummaging through everything.

"Pennyworth will be angry if you mess up the kitchen," Damian muttered, putting his cereal away again.

Duke entered the kitchen, curious. "He's gone completely mad."

The blonde glanced at him sideways. "I never thought this day would come.

"What's he doing?"Most of them were watching the kitchen intently, as if it were an experiment.

"Dear Damian," Jason smiled, taking the stored cereal box. "If you take drugs away from a junkie, what will he do?" He pointed at Tim as if he were a lab rat. "He'll look for more drugs... Oh!"

"He'll probably hide them around here," Tim muttered, looking sleepy.

Meanwhile, Dick whispered, "When do you think he'll realize?"

"Realize what?" Damian asked, staring at him.

"That his 'girlfriend' took all the coffee from the mansion."

Later, everyone was sitting in the dining room except for Tim, who was leaning his head on the table, much to Alfred's dismay.

"I need to stay awake; herbal tea won't keep me awake," he complained, though the dark circles under his eyes were begging for a break.

"Young Master Drake, please have your tea. It's impolite to refuse what's served. Would you like to return to your classes with good manners?" he asked expectantly.

"Love is hard," Jason muttered, feigning sympathy.

4. Control the amount of coffee you drink.

I don't speak English, literally, so this was translated with Google. Maybe from translating so much I'll learn English little by little.