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I want a Barok van Zieks investigations spinoff purely for Kazuma taking every single opportunity he can to insult Barok and complain about missing Ryunosuke

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i'm honestly disappointed that sholmes/ryuunosuke isn't a more popular ship

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i made iris' lucky charms into mini acrylic charms as well as a sticker sheet for the shop! 🐰🐻

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it's that time again

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TAMARANEAN TROUBLE (AND A JEALOUS BIRD)

pairing: nightwing x male reader synopsis: Meeting your boyfriend’s ex was never easy, especially when she’s a literal goddess. But turns out she’s way more charming than you anticipated—and your new friendship with her starts to drive Dick a little nuts.

You had expected to feel a little awkward meeting his ex. After all, how often does someone casually meet the woman who used to date the guy you’re currently in love with—especially when that woman was the embodiment of alien royalty, radiant warmth, and god-tier beauty?

What you hadn’t expected was how nice she was.

“So you are Y/N,” Starfire said, floating slightly off the ground as she smiled at you with a kind of sunshine-bright sincerity that made it impossible to dislike her. “It is a pleasure to finally meet the one who makes Grumpy-Wing less grumpy.”

You laughed a little. “I—uh—thanks? It’s great to meet you too.”

And it was. But damn, she was...everything. Kind, smart, powerful, beautiful. You'd seen the pictures of her and Dick back in their early days—smiling, shoulder to shoulder, picture-perfect in ways that belonged on magazine covers and cheesy soap operas. Even now, years later, they moved around each other like they still shared an orbit. Not romantic—not anymore—but familiar.

And as the three of you moved through the Titan Tower that weekend, helping out with some team reconvening for a threat that thankfully didn’t escalate, you couldn’t help the thought that rooted in your head like poison ivy.

Why did you guys even break up?

They had chemistry. A history. Years of shared battles, shared glances, and emotional highs and lows. And you? You were just the guy Dick dated now. The guy who sometimes stumbled through fight choreography, who needed more coffee than sleep, and who couldn’t fly—unless you counted being thrown by a meta.

You didn’t voice it.

Of course not.

You smiled and teased, joined in the banter. But the seed had been planted. Every time she touched his arm affectionately or burst into laughter at something he said, it watered itself.

And Starfire? She was always so genuine with you.

“You are most humorous,” she beamed after you cracked a joke. “Dick never laughs that way. It is endearing.”

You blinked. “Thanks. I think.”

One afternoon, while Nightwing was busy coordinating with Cyborg, you and Kory found yourselves lounging on a terrace overlooking the bay, bathed in sunset light and quiet.

“You seem troubled,” she said gently, sipping something fizzy from a glass she probably made sparkle with her fingers.

“Nope,” you said. Then: “...Okay, maybe.”

She tilted her head. “Is it the comparison?”

You froze. She was looking at you with those big green eyes, not with judgment, but understanding. That made it worse somehow.

“I—what?” you asked, a bit too fast.

She smiled. “It is a natural thing. I have known Richard since he was very young, but that is no threat to what you share. If anything…” she leaned in a little, voice low, mischievous. “You and he are very hot together. It makes me wish I had taste in better timing.”

You stared.

“I mean it,” she went on, her smile widening as she leaned back. “Your dynamic is delightful. You challenge him. He softens around you in ways he never did before. And aesthetically? Glorious. Your hair alone could inspire three songs.”

You snorted. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I am complimenting,” she said innocently. “Unless you are open to being flirted with. In which case, yes.”

That was how you and Kory became best friends and when Dick began to act funny. Not in the ha-ha kind of way—no, you’d take goofy knock-knock jokes over what he was doing now.

First it was subtle. He started appearing in rooms he had no business being in. You’d be lounging in the common room, scrolling through Kory’s latest intergalactic memes, and suddenly Dick would appear with a clipboard, muttering something about “inventory checks.”

“In the living room?” you’d ask, raising a brow.

“Important living room supplies,” he’d mutter, shuffling cushions and trying very hard not to glare at your legs draped across Kory’s lap.

Then it escalated.

If Kory threw an arm over your shoulders in the hallway, Dick would suddenly need to “discuss patrol assignments.” If you so much as laughed too long at her joke, he’d swing by like a vulture in a domino mask, kissing your temple in a move so obviously territorial, it practically growled.

Kory noticed. Of course she did. She was a warrior, a princess, and now, your best friend. She took great delight in making your boyfriend squirm.

“Hello, Dick,” she would purr every time he showed up mid-conversation. “We were just discussing how your partner’s biceps have grown. He is becoming so sturdy.”

Dick’s eye would twitch. “Great. Love that. Very…sturdy.”

You tried to hide your smirk. Tried.

It all came to a head one evening while you and Kory were testing out her new “Earth-style fashion experiment.” Somehow, this translated into you wearing a sleeveless mesh top and Kory bedazzling your boots while perched upside down on the couch.

Dick walked in.

Paused.

Looked at you.

Then said, “Cool. When’s the drag show?”

You and Kory wheeze with laughter.

“Oh come on,” Dick huffed, folding his arms. “You two are literally one hair braid away from running off together.”

Kory beamed. “Do you give us your blessing?”

“I—what?! No—that’s not—” He pointed at you, then her, then back again. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

You stood up, sauntered over, and poked his chest. “Doing what, Grayson? Having fun without you?”

“You’re flirting.”

“She started it,” you said.

“And he is adorably receptive,” Kory added.

Dick groaned. “Unbelievable. My boyfriend and my ex-girlfriend are best friends and now they’ve unionized against me.”

You grinned and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey. I’m still yours, y’know.”

He tried to stay mad. Really, he did. But the tips of his ears turned red, and his lips twitched upward despite himself. “Yeah. I know.”

Kory stood as well, looping an arm around each of your shoulders. “Do not worry. I will not steal your sparkly boyfriend.” She paused. “Unless you break his heart. In which case I will destroy you and then marry him on a moon garden beneath three suns.”

Dick stared. “That’s…oddly specific.”

“She’s been planning it,” you said, nodding seriously.

Kory winked. “I have the dress picked out.”

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((ofc junpei HAD to be there))

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doodling while thinking abt how much i like port island

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I'm not really into pairings and all that but Shinjiro and Kotone really hit the spot for some reason

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†  july 19th : tim drake.

⋆˙⟡ "you didn't have to.."

⋆˙⟡ based: birthday things bc obviously i am going to post something about the biggest influence to my irl personality. ↦ kalico note: very few people will understand why i absolutely had to ignore the pain to post this today and yes, you can all yell at me.

the apartment was too quiet when tim stepped in, lingering in the doorway as he took in the hum of the ac and the distant sound of sirens. taking notice of how dark it was, he wondered - hoped - if you'd gone to bed already.

he hadn't meant to stay out so late again, not beyond midnight, but one thing always lead to another and he couldn't leave something unfinished. he hated that sick swell of guilt that come with coming home at such times but he did his best to shake it off and gently closed the door behind him. his boots slid off with ease and his hoodie was tossed towards the end of the couch as he ventured further into the apartment.

his plan was to head directly to the bedroom, admire you for a moment and then crash, but the smallest flicker of light pulled his attention from that process. it was warm and moving, dancing at the edges of the kitchen archway.

"not ominous at all…" he mumbled to himself, stepping in, only to freeze.

you were at the counter, a slight tremor in your hand as you moved a match to finish lighting candles. he couldn't quite catch what you were mumbling to yourself, though he was a little too focused on the fact you were lighting candles that were delicately pressed into a small cake at one in the morning.

his chest tightened when you looked up. it was obvious you knew he'd returned with how you smiled and tilted your head at him before carefully sliding the cake into your hands.

stepping closer to him, you held it up as though to present it, and he was already gone by how the flames looked dancing in your gaze.

"happy birthday, sweetheart."

tim blinked once, then twice. the breath he didn't realize he was holding slipped out in a shaky exhale. a hand rose to push through his hair like he was attempting to ground himself to reality.

"you," he began, looking for the words, "you stayed up.. just for this..?"

you glanced to the cake and back at him. "of course i did," you answered, frowning at how well you could see the tiredness before his crystal eyes. "i feel like i wouldn't be much of a partner if i didn't..?"

suddenly, the world narrowed and his throat felt tight, like he was trying to process what to do with this kind of gentleness. you'd waited for him with zero expectations or demands, just a cake and a smile that said he deserved the world.

settling the one into one palm, you reached out to gently take his hand, guiding him one step closer before he could get any further into his head.

his eyebrows began to pull together before he stopped himself. "you didn't ha-" he was cut off by you shaking your head and squeezing his hand.

"i wanted to." you lifted the cake a little higher, gesturing with it. "now.. make a wish before all of my work is ruined by wax."

he let out a breath of a laugh, the semi awkward kind as he rubbed the back of his neck. "i'm not sure i need to," he mused weakly, his eyes softening as he looked from you to the candles. it took a second before he closed his eyes and leaned in, the warmth of the candles brushing over his skin.

his wish was simple. something selfish and quiet and already very much true. maybe he wanted to keep it that way, or he just couldn't think of anything better to wish for. but, with one breath the flames went out and his eyes opened, your face being the first thing he saw.

for the first time in what felt like years, tim smiled. really smiled. warm, genuine and something only for you.

it didn't last long, fading from his features as you searched his face. you could easily see the way his shoulders went rigid again and how his gaze shifted away from you like he was debating moving closer or bolting for the front door. you knew well enough he was never good at just standing and accepting softness. accepting love he still struggled to believe was for him or that he'd ever done enough to deserve it.

"you're doing it again," you said, deciding to make the choice for him. the little cake was set on the counter, candles removed and dropped on a napkin before you turned to him again, hand raising to brush your thumb beneath his eye. tears threatened at his waterline and his jaw moved as he clenched it, ignoring that burn.

"none of that, not tonight," you whispered, shaking your head. he knew you didn't just mean crying, that was normal for birthdays, but it was why he was crying. that silent 'i don't deserve this' carried in salty tears.

tim's breath hitched faintly and his lips parted. he wanted to roll his eyes and say he wasn't crying. he's just tired, embarrassed, undeserving but none of the words managed to leave him. a small sound - something akin to a strangled whimper sounded, the kind of sound people make when they're fighting hard not to break down - was all he could get out.

that, as usual, annoyed him further. you didn't let that linger, leaning in to kiss him before he gave up and just walked away. it was deep and slow, sincere with the gentle swipe of your tongue at his lower lip. your hand settled at his jaw, thumb brushing over pale skin as you coaxed him into relaxing.

"you're.. so, so important to me," you whispered against his lips. another kiss, short. "you're so good.. so deserving of everything, tim."

he sighed, hands coming up to slide over your sides and around your waist. it wasn't tight or desperate, just holding on like it was the only option he had to remind himself it was all real.

you smiled, giving him another light kiss. "you're my one and only, you know..? you're it for me," you said softly. "today, the rest of the day, is about nothing but you. no work, no comms, no news.. we have plenty of heroes that can hold it down until your birthday is over."

"you make that sound.. so easy," he whispered, and you knew what words he didn't say. 'to love me.'

you leaned closer, nudging your foreheads together carefully. "loving you is the easiest thing in the world to me," you cooed, bumping the tip of your nose to his. "but, you're overthinking and i need you to just.. try and let me love you today, okay? remind you that you matter, that you're loved and appreciated... even when the world makes you think otherwise."

he studied you, just for a moment, before dipping his head down to nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling before letting it out slowly. he let himself slowly wind down as your arms circled around him, giving him the time to just breathe and exist. at least, for a minute or two.

"c'mon," you said, shifting your weight and guiding his steps back until he was pressed carefully back against the counter. "hop up. sit."

he blinked at you, eyebrow raising followed by a little huff of protest; "i'm sorry?" his response meant nothing as you nudged him and he went without argument, lifting himself with ease onto the cool surface.

looking down at the floor where his feet no longer touched, he muttered to himself: "this is weird.. it's normally you up here."

you glanced at him, head tipped and giving him a look that told him to hush before returning to your task. you plucked a fork from the drawer before movinf closer, placing yourself between his knees.

"cake at one in the morning," he said, a faint smile showing as he eyed you, "feels very reminiscent of our first date."

you couldn't help but laugh, one hand settling on his thigh. "you were also late to our first date, sooo.. maybe this was all part of my master plan?"

he groaned at the words and glanced away. "in my defense, you said yes to the guy who barely knows when he'll be leaving or when he'll be getting home."

"i still said yes, didn't i? also still ate horrible take out on your bedroom floor at two in the morning," you mused back, reaching with the fork to collect a small chunk of the cake. "but this date, however, you get to hush, sit pretty and let me take care of you.. and thankfully, no bullet wounds this time."

his nose wrinkled and his ears turned a soft shade of pink but he didn't comment. there was nothing he could say, really. he'd actually been pretty embarrassed to be bleeding everywhere when be got back home and found you waiting in his room. he'd given every excuse possible, only for you to help clean and bandage him up.

your hand lifted from his thigh and tipped his chin up, pulling him from his thoughts. "open up, pretty boy," you teased, holding the fork up to his lips.

the pink shifted to red, betraying the way he stared at you and dryly asked: "you're really going to feed me?"

"i am," you answered, tapping the tiniest little dot of icing to his upper lip, "and you're going to let me.. so hush and open. i worked hard on this thing."

"you're actually going to be the death of me.. you know that, right?" he let out a soft laugh but opened his mouth, letting you feed him the bite with a triumphant smile.

"you'll at least die happy, but i am not explaining that to your friends or family."

he shook his head as he chewed, looking away. you took the opportunity to lean closer, pressing a kiss to the spot right before his ear. "you deserve all of this. i know it's difficult to believe, probably annoying to have people tell you, but.. you do. this- this peace and quiet, moments like these when you get to just be tim."

his eyes closed as he swallowed, letting the words echo in his thoughts before sighing, wetting his bottom lip. there was no verbal response, there didn't need to be. you just fed him another bite and smiled to yourself.

before he could fully finish, you leaned in kissed him again, lips slotting together as you dropped the fork in exchange for sliding your hands up his neck and into his hair. the taste of frosting lingered and he froze for half a second before returning it. his hands reached to curl at your sides, your shirt twisting into his fingers as his head tilted.

"you're my whole world, tim drake," you whispered into it, "today, tomorrow.. every day. just you." pressing back into the kiss, you nipped at his lower lip:

"happy birthday."

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higher education and other ‘academic’ pursuits

or ‘sun-kissed’

Tim Drake x reader

gn!reader, no use of y/n

You and Tim make the move out west for college…

Tim was a smart guy. Had been all his life. After all, you don’t discover Batman and Robin’s identities at 9 years old by being an idiot.

But for the most part, school had bored him. At some point he’d given up on studying, preferring to spend his energy solving GCPD’s cases and following Batman and Robin. And eventually he became Robin and then majority shareholder at Wayne Enterprises and at some point his parents died, and is it any wonder that during the whole ordeal he’d dropped out?

Of course, he’d made sure to get his GED (because if running WE wasn’t hard enough as the high school dropout, it’d be a million times harder as the high school dropout without a diploma).

But aside from that, he’d had no intention of going back to school. He had enough on his plate already between his day job and his night job.

But overtime, the monotony began to wear away at him, and you convinced him it was time for a change.

And so the applications were sent off, bags were packed, goodbyes were said and Tim was off to San Francisco.

Stanford, and California as a whole, was an adjustment. He’d been there before of course, visiting Titans Tower, but living there was completely different.

It was sunny and warm almost all the time.

You laughed at him as he tanned, and tanned, and burned in the bright California sun.

Northern California was no Gotham, but it had its fair share of crime and without the influence of the Bats, Tim blossomed in the freedom. It was a beautiful thing to see; for someone who’d been so opposed to leaving Gotham, Tim was coming alive at college.

His classes focused on things he was interested in, taught by professors he respected who were experts in their field.

Most exciting to you, was that he enjoyed his classes so much he often told you of them or insisted on you helping him with his homework (even though he definitely didn’t need you to).

Taking a step back from Tim’s kind but admittedly overwhelming family in the Bats allowed the two of you to focus on each other. Where before it was hard to get a moment alone, now the two of you could often be found curled up in one of your dorm’s together, studying together at the library, or even enjoying the sun at the beach.

Your relationship only improved with the two of you heading out to California for college. In fact, at times, Tim seemed almost like a completely different person. Gone was the scattered, disorganized Red Robin who had so much to do his mind moved a mile a minute. Now Tim had an intense focus, that was almost… studious. And it was directed entirely toward you.

You often caught him from across the room, staring unabashedly at you. His eyes traced your face, the contours of your body, sometimes lingering in one place or another. Your eyes reflecting the afternoon sun, your hand wrapped prettily around a glass, your hair shifting as you brushed it out of your face. The intensity of his gaze left you feeling warm, both embarrassed and proud.

In private, he was even more devoted.

Hovering nearby you at all times, pressing kisses to every inch of exposed skin he could find, touching your hands, your face, your hair, whatever he could get his hands on. Like a prized possession he refused to let go of.

His observant eye picked out the perfect gifts, could predict your moods even better than you could, and knew exactly what to say when you were upset.

When among friends, he relished in showing you off, often keeping a hand or arm around you and bringing you up often in conversation.

When alone, he thought of you often, missing you when you were gone, and counting down the seconds til he could see you again.

It was utterly romantic. Tim had been sweet before, of course; he was always sweet. But the California sun seemed to have much the same effect on him as it did on Superman, amplifying all his natural charisma to make you swoon.

And he certainly seemed to enjoy making you swoon.

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"nobody cares about tim drake--" LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

I CARE ABOUT TIM DRAKE. I DO. LOOK AT HIM AND TELL ME YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT HIM

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Can you do jason Todd x gn clown reader? I think it would be very fun and interesting. 🎈🎉

synopsis: When Jason comes home from patrol, he finds you upset

notes: SFW, not much to add tbh

tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, a little bit of emotional angst, clown!reader, gender neutral reader, wc: 1.5k

this one was actually so much fun to write! It ended up a little sadder than I had planned it but it’s still sweet—anyway enjoy <3

Jason quietly raised the window and slipped in silently, boots barely squeaking against the floorboards.

The apartment was dark—usually around this time of night, you’d be messing around in the kitchen, blaring whatever song had wormed its way into your brain, dancing along as you somehow avoided spilling the contents of the pots and pans you were handling.

But not tonight.

It was eerily quiet—aside from the faint smell of a burnt-out candle and soft breeze that billowed in the sheer curtains, the entire place felt untouched, as if preserved in time, a poorly lit Polaroid.

A car drove past below.

Light cut through the apartment, sweeping the walls and still air in a golden glow before it all dissipated into darkness again and Jason was left with a heavy sense of dread blooming just behind his heart.

It was so quiet.

It was too quiet for you.

Even when he’d return from patrol at a fuckass hour, you were up and buzzing around him, greeting him happily and kissing his face.

Silence had never unsettled him quite as much.

His helmet thudded softly against the kitchen counter. He stepped further into the apartment.

Your bedroom door was closed. 

The sign you kept on your door was flipped around.

It was a silly little tradition that had started when Jason began coming around to your apartment more often. He’d always known about your career as a clown travelling with the circus and from what he’d heard you were a good one.

But an impromptu visit and a panic attack later, you’d both decided it was probably best he didn’t accidentally stumble in on you when you were still in makeup. 

So the sign was born.

Most of the time, it was flipped to show the ‘Makeup off :D’ side—but even then, it didn’t matter much because the door was open and you were attached to his hip. But occasionally the sign would be flipped around and Jason would simply linger in the living room before you finally emerged bare-faced and chatting away happily.

The ‘Makeup on :(‘ was glaring at him like a yellow warning sign.

He couldn’t hear you puttering around on the other side.

It was too quiet and everything was wrong.

He knocked on the door, leather gloves softly rasping against the wood.

He tried knocking a little louder when he got no answer.

“My makeup is still on.”

Even through the door, your voice was soft, too gentle and tired.

“I’m coming in.” He pushed the door open cautiously—it’s not like he’d never seen you in makeup: he’d seen pictures and videos of your performances, the only way he could support you from a very safe distance when he felt comfortable.

He still expected his heart to leap and his breath to hitch when he saw you, that remnant of fear to course through him when he laid his eyes on you.

But as he stepped in to find you sat at your vanity, with slumped shoulders and tired eyes, he felt none of that. He met your gaze in the mirror, took in the running makeup and the dirtied wipes.

“Somebody crashed the show,” you explained as you picked up a new wet wipe, beginning to wipe off more of the colourful paint from your skin. The red of your lipstick pulled across your cheeks.

“I didn’t hear of an attack,” he stepped closer as he regarded you—he’d never seen you take off your clown paint. It was actually a little surreal to see the end of the persona.

“I was down in Old Gotham.” And he patrolled the north, closer to Crime Alley—South Gotham had Red Robin’s patrol routes.

“Hecklers?”

“Some man went after the clowns,” your frown deepened, twisting what must have once been a bright smile into more of a grimace, “Something about making a mockery of the real clown prince.”

Ah

Him. 

Aside from the times Jason brought up his own death, the clown prince of Gotham was never mentioned. At least not by name. 

He’d noticed the way your nose always wrinkled when his name was mentioned in passing conversation or on the news. 

You were always aware of him but never spoke of it.

Despite the obvious… affiliation. 

Maybe because of it. 

Hearing your words now, he realised it was definitely the latter. 

“Somebody who can’t even remotely follow the clown code shouldn’t be allowed to call himself a clown.”

“There’s a clown code?”

The glare you threw him was soft, but firm enough to indicate the jab wasn’t welcome. Of course, there was a fucking clown code.

Your eyes flicked back to your own reflection, and your face fell, just the slightest bit as the despair started to slip back into your features, still painted a ghastly white.

“I don’t want to retire the act,” you said softly as you tried to wipe away for paint but the blue and yellow of your tears and stars just smudged across your face—he pulled off his gloves, tossing them onto your vanity, “But he’s stolen the whole show—even outside of Gotham! People just…”

“Hey.” His calloused hand grabbed your wrist gently, stopping the rough motion of your hand. He took the wet wipe from you and held your chin steady with his other hand—it always amazed him how soft you were. Even his family, most of whom were generally considered pretty, were covered in scars and blemishes from their lives as vigilantes.

But not you.

You were so far removed from everything.

It was such a startling difference to settle on.

He cleared your skin tenderly, with much more kindness than he’d ever show himself, holding your face up towards his, your gaze averted.

“I’m sure you bring joy to plenty of people,” he said to you softly, “Or you wouldn’t have so many shows lined up.”

“He’s made it so perverse.” Jason brushed away a tear with his thumb. “He forces people to laugh—he’s twisted everything and put himself in the spotlight. All people ever think off when they hear clown is him.”

“I don’t think of him,” he said softly.

“You have fucking nightmares about him,” you whispered, like it was a secret neither of you wanted to admit.

But it was true—he did have nightmares about the clown. Nightmares when he would wake screaming and in tears—nightmares where the only solution was to bury himself in your arms until the panic passed.

“I don’t willingly think of him,” he corrected himself quietly—and it was true. He’d never thought of him when he heard clown.

Sure, you were never a clown in front of him, but that didn’t mean that your joy and passion vanished the moment you stepped into his eyesight.

He’d watched you entertain a kid for hours in a hospital waiting room while you were both waiting for your turns to be seen—and the time you had patiently taught Jon Kent how to do that stupid little magic trick with the cloth—or the juggling competition you had gotten into with Dick.

Flowers fucking bloomed in your wake and that fucking clown was making you cry.

“I’m not entirely familiar with the clown code,” he continued, “But you seem to follow it a hell of a lot more than he does.”

“He’s set the bar in hell,” you grumbled, before closing your eyes, leaning into his touch, like a touch-starved cat. He wiped away the blue tear under your eye with a soft hand.

“Yeah? Guess you’ll just have to be the best goddamn clown he can’t compete with.”

“You already know I am.”

Your grin was enough to melt his heart on the best of days. But tonight he could only be reminded of how much he adored you.

“I love you.”

Your eyes only lit up brighter at his words—he stepped back as you stood, and ducked his head as you cupped his face.

“I love you too,” you whispered, “I’m going to be the only damn clown you dream of.”

He snorted as he rested his forehead against yours, “Gonna get rid of the nightmares, just like that?”

“I can be really persuasive.”

He laughed breathily before your lips were on his and soon he was kissing you back, pouring all of his affections into you, pressed against in a very practised and loved dance.

You were absolutely the only clown he wanted in his life.

(“Your lipstick tastes like ass.”

“I know, I’m sorry—it’s actually red foundation.”

”Why does it taste like glue?”)

This probably wasn’t the clowniest clown I could have written but I still enjoyed the direction it took <3

Here’s my wips list and masterlist <3 (requests are currently closed as I work through my current ones)

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dating headcanons - zzzero men edition (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

ft. gn!reader x anton ivanov, ben bigger, lighter, von lycaon, wise ; no applicable warnings! my first request (i tried to finish it before christmas in my timezone, but still, merry christmas to the anon who requested this :DD and to those reading!!) hehehhe i hope its good enough｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

anton ivanov

you cannot look me in the eye and tell me this man isn’t the type to yell “this is for you!” or “if i hit this you give me a kiss” and completely miss whatever target he’s supposed to hit. he hits it. sometimes. he still gets a kiss anyways.

[“dude” “we’re literally dating and you’ve placed your lips on mine do NOT call me dude.” “…babe”]

big on gift giving and words of affirmation in terms of love languages. he makes sure to put a lot of thought into whatever he gives to you to properly convey his appreciation and show just how much you mean to him.

"strong, sincere, and straightforward." he's definitely the type to encourage you to try new things especially when you're the type to get easily nervous. if you're scared of looking stupid, don't worry; he'll do it with you hand-in-hand so you can be stupid together. becomes your no. 1 hype man and would give you his honest opinions whenever you need ‘em.

you see or hear him talking to his jackhammer bro for the most mundane or random things and you've become used to it at this point. its honestly endearing (you're hopeless)

["bro do you think they'd still love me if i was a worm?" "vroom vroom vroom" “you think so?” “vroom” "yeah, you're right."]

ben bigger

scary bear privileges meaning no one wants to mess with you knowing that you're dating someone who cuts such an intimidating presence but you know better than them because ben would much rather use his paws to tap away at a calculator or spreadsheet than willingly get into fights.

on that note, he's most likely to be the best companion for grocery shopping; he'll know how to get all the good discounts and haggle for the best prices for sure.

best cuddle partner to have during colder seasons no. 1. although he puts his fur care second, it's still soft and fuzzy to the touch and he likes that you appreciate the warmth it provides too.

since he struggles with some of his accounting responsibilities due to the size of his paws, sometimes you help him with sorting some of belobog industries' financial documents and eventually you end up finding the task quite relaxing after a while of doing it.

but, of course, he loves spending time with you outside of work. anything to take his mind off of the horrors of accounting. he'll mentally file away anything he learns about you when you're together for future purposes, may it be gift or date ideas.

he's the bear thiren between both of you, but in private he loves cuddling against you like you're some sort of plush toy. you don't mind. another win-win situation because you get to rest against him like a giant pillow as well.

lighter

he tries to be flirty with you and sometimes it works! but when you match his energy and it backfires on him he turns into a blushing mess who doesn’t know what to do with himself.

also the type to want to show off or act all suave. he has an image to keep as the undefeated champion! the red scarf! (he’s internally giggling and kicking his feet from one [1] cheek kiss you left in passing).

date nights with him sometimes consist of drives on his bike and stargazing at a nice little spot he found in blazewood. then halfway through, he’d get distracted from seeing the stars in your eyes and think that its a hundred times better than the real thing and fall in love all over again.

“gets as many challenges as love letters” but he makes sure that you and anyone who tries to make a move know that he only has eyes for you. could be in the form of having an arm around your waist or his jacket on you when you feel cold.

a physical touch and acts of service guy because. well. he did say he’d like to die for love one day. that’s a very romantic thing to say and do. also his heart still races whenever you hold his hand but he swears he’s getting used to it (he isn’t). probably melts when you gently run your fingers over his face or any of his scars

i honestly feel like he's one of those "me and my bae don't argue they just tell me to shut up and i do" types.

von lycaon

an ideal date for him would be a fancy dinner or picnic somewhere nice and discreet. complete with scented candles, your favorite flowers, and homecooked food (which probably tastes better than anything you've ever eaten at any restaurant). then at some point when both of you have finished eating and you're both in conversation, he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves a kiss on your knuckles.

["darling, your face is...concerningly red. are you feeling alright?" "i'm fine. i think."]

you WILL be receiving that prince/princess treatment (threat). breakfast in bed when he isn’t busy, spontaneous massages offered when you mention ONCE that you feel tired, and all that jazz. you probably will never have to open another door yourself with him around and he ALWAYS offers his arm for you to take when you're walking together.

best cuddle partner to have during colder seasons no. 2. just prepare yourself for horrendous shedding as summer begins… but you don’t mind helping him brush through his fur (*´ω`*) its therapeutic and you’re one of the very few people he trusts with the task so its a win for both of you.

since he's a wolf thiren, he sometimes unwillingly attracts the attention of stray cats and dogs; he usually pays them no mind but it is somewhat of an inconvenience for him. however, the sight of you playing with them while quietly cooing eases some of his discomfort. seems like you aren't the only one suffering from cuteness aggression.

his guilty pleasure is squishing your cheeks in his hands. no i will not elaborate

wise

this is one of the random play managers we’re talking about, so. movie date nights are mandatory. both of you alternate when picking movies but sometimes you bicker over options like an old married couple just for the fun of it.

a lot more chill when it comes to PDA but he can be flirty when he wants to be. if he knows you have a weak spot for it, he uses it to his advantage to get what he wants. scheming little minx. /pos

words of affirmation and quality time guy, i think. since he's always so busy with managing the store and completing commissions alongside belle as proxies, he makes the most out of the time you guys can spend together alone. even if it's just laying in his bed or on the couch doing nothing together sometimes.

everyone and their mothers and grandmothers on sixth street will probably know that you’re dating or figure something out at some point even when both of you don’t really do much together in public/are trying to keep it on the low. never underestimate these aunties man

unfortunately for wise, he will become the target of teasing or nagging from belle when it comes to your relationship. once you get close enough she'll also share embarrassing stories from when they were younger or before you and wise started dating much to her brother’s chagrin.

secretly likes clinging and cuddling up to you like a koala. both of you are in bed? oh okay, don’t mind him, he’ll just scooch a bit and wrap his arms and legs around you, claiming that having you in his bed helps fix his insomnia (it does, to some degree). [“wise i can’t move.” “you don’t need to.”]

on the days you help out with tasks in random play, you could quite literally just be standing while doing something and then you’ll feel a pair of arms sneak around your waist from behind as he leans his head on one of your shoulders with a quiet, satisfied sigh.

[flxffyclvuds]

Nobody hates when you go out of town more than Dick Grayson's family. Sure he mopes around like a sad puppy, essentially waiting by the door and tearing up furniture till you get back (and heaven have mercy on any criminals he takes down), but his family are the ones who have to deal with his clingy ass.

The younger ones especially are begging you to return quickly. He won't leave them alone. All he does is sulk and break into their apartments to sulk even more, except this time he's bemoaning while they're the ones he's trapped in a too tight of a hug.

So please come back soon okay? He's unbearable without you, seriously. They can only deal with him moping all over Sunday family dinners for so long.

[flxffyclvuds]

What murdaaaaaaa

"He's just a baby" Honey, he just killed a thousand of people and he's wanted for murder and a bunch of other crimes

[flxffyclvuds]

The Russian heartthrob.

Dick Grayson x Russian male reader

summary: everyone wants you. but you want him.

The cameras flashed like lightning, capturing every angle of your face. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, smoldering eyes that made men and women alike forget how to breathe. You didn’t even have to try. Modeling agencies practically fought each other for the privilege of representing you.

Gotham had never seen anything like you.

In less than a month since stepping off the plane from Moscow, you were on the cover of every fashion magazine from Gotham Vogue to Wayne Style Weekly. Dubbed "The Russian Heartthrob," you were already infamous for unintentionally turning straight men into questioning disasters.

People fall at your feet. They fumbled their words. They sent you drinks, gifts, indecent proposals, and love confessions written in lipstick on luxury cars. You had it all — fame, beauty, money, and attention. And yet… Your heart didn't skip for flashing cameras. It didn't flutter for rich businessmen or sultry models. It only pounded when you saw him.

Dick Grayson.

You met him at a Wayne Gala, dressed in black, hair effortlessly tousled, a soft smile that could melt steel. He wasn’t fazed by your looks — not like everyone else. He shook your hand like a normal person. He laughed at your sarcasm, and when he looked at you, it felt like he saw you, not just the jawline or the smirk. That night, while models whispered about stealing you away, your eyes kept drifting toward Bruce Wayne’s son — the man who’d once been Robin, now Nightwing.

He moved like a dancer. Spoke like a prince. Fought like a storm. And you, the man who had the world at his feet, suddenly couldn’t breathe around him.

You smiled at him in the corner of the ballroom and said, your Russian accent thick but smooth:

“You are the only one in this room not looking at me like I am dessert. I think I like you for that.” Dick chuckled, sipping his champagne, blue eyes sparkling. “Then I guess I’m already ahead of the competition.”

You laughed, heart racing. And just like that, you were gone. The Russian Heartthrob — hopelessly in love with the Gotham golden boy.

Absolutely — here’s the next scene, with the gala moment, that accidental viral camera shot, Bruce’s disapproval, and Dick being completely charmed by the reader’s genuine affection.

You never meant to be obvious. But it’s hard not to stare when the person in question looks like Dick Grayson.

The gala was at Wayne Manor — your first real Gotham social event. Paparazzi circled the gates like wolves, but inside the manor? It was glitter and glass, champagne and secrets.

And Dick?

Dick was wearing a fitted navy suit that might as well have been tailored by angels. He laughed with someone across the room, and you — completely unaware of the camera snapping photos — watched him like he hung the moon.

Soft smile. Eyes full of quiet awe. Your pupils were dilated so wide you looked possessed.

The picture made the front page of Gotham Now the next morning:

“Russian Heartthrob Falls for Wayne Heir? 👀 Fans Speculate on Secret Gala Crush!”

And there it was — a side-by-side shot. You, gazing at Dick like he was art. Dick, sipping champagne and somehow not noticing how hard he was being adored.

Wayne Manor – That Morning

The newspaper slammed down on the long oak breakfast table.

Bruce looked… not amused.

“He’s a model, Dick. Gotham’s latest celebrity toy. You should keep your distance. Last thing we need is more press drama.”

Dick barely glanced at the photo. He sipped his coffee, hiding a small smile.

“He’s not just a model. He’s actually kinda awkward when people flirt with him. Funny, too. And do you see the way he’s looking at me?”

Bruce’s expression hardened.

“Exactly.”

But Dick just leaned back in his chair, staring at the paper again. That look on your face — wide-eyed, lips parted, like he’d accidentally stolen your heart without trying.

It was pure.

Not lust. Not vanity. Just… genuine affection.

Dick tilted his head, a smirk growing slowly.

“You know, it’s kinda cute. Guy’s got the whole world chasing him, and he’s looking at me like that. Like I’m the only person in the room.”

Bruce sighed heavily, muttering something about “media distractions” and “unwanted attention,” but Dick wasn’t listening anymore. His thumb brushed over the printed photo over your soft gaze. Maybe he should talk to you again. See if that look was real. He already had a feeling it was.

[flxffyclvuds]

Russian heartthrob

dick grayson x male reader

Bruce was clear. "End it, Dick. No more events. No more calls. No more chance of scandal. Gotham is watching."

But Dick Grayson had never been great at following orders — especially when his heart was involved.

He knew it wasn’t love yet. Not fully. But something in your eyes — every time you looked at him like he was made of galaxies — it ignited something deep in him. You were different from everyone else. You didn’t want anything from him except him.

You weren’t interested in his money, his fame, or the Wayne name. You liked Dick. The man. The mess. The real him.

And he couldn’t just walk away from that.

Secret Meetings

It started with chance encounters. Then, subtle invitations.

Late-night walks on Gotham’s quieter rooftops. Black SUV rides where the windows were tinted, and no one knew who was inside.

You'd sneak out from your penthouse in the city, scarf over your mouth, hat low. And Dick would already be there, leaning against a brick wall with that easy smile.

“You came,” he said once, in a whisper, as you approached in the cold.

You smiled softly, heart pounding.

“For you? I would come through snowstorm or fire, Dick Grayson.”

You kissed once — under Gotham’s rain, with the sound of distant thunder behind you. It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t planned.

It was… soft. Unspoken. Just lips and longing.

But Gotham doesn’t keep secrets for long.

The press was relentless. A blurry photo. An insider tip. Rumors that Bruce Wayne’s adopted son had been spotted with the Russian heartthrob — and not just once.

Bruce was furious. Not yelling — worse than that. Cold. Distant.

“You don’t know him. You don’t know what he wants, Dick. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“You think I’d fall for someone that easy?” Dick snapped. “You raised me better than that.”

“I raised you to be smarter,” Bruce said. “To protect the family. Your image. Yourself.”

Dick stormed out, jaw clenched, heart racing.

He was done hiding.

The Goodbye

You hadn’t been seen for two days. Dick tried your number. No answer. He showed up to your modeling agency — gone.

Finally, your agent gave him the truth:

“He flew back to Moscow last night. Something about needing space. About wanting to leave before things got worse.”

Dick’s world stopped.

The next morning, he stood on the Gotham rooftop where you first kissed, your scarf still tucked in his coat pocket. He clutched it like it was all he had left of you.

Somewhere in Moscow...

You stared out a frosted window, the city below blurred by snowfall. Your heart ached.

The tabloids had twisted everything. You couldn’t drag Dick down with you. You weren’t from Gotham — you didn’t belong in that world of masks and legacies.

But in your hands, you still held something close — a photo someone snapped of the two of you walking in the rain, your shoulder brushing his, both of you smiling like idiots.

You whispered his name.

“Дик…”

And wondered if he was thinking of you too.

To be continued...